Chapter 14
Flint led his mule up the final steps of the steep switchback path and paused at the mouth of the cave. A brisk wind nipped at his cheeks. The elevation allowed for no trees or hillocks to block the ever-present breezes, but he was prepared. With a layer of rabbit fur under his tunic and in his boots, the wind could chill only his face and hands, but he would soon have to shed the warm clothes. The throat of Mount Elijah awaited.
He ducked under the cave’s low arch and pushed down on the mule’s load—two sheaves of reeds and a bundle of sticks. When he cleared the entry, the ceiling vaulted into a high funnel, the inside of Mount Elijah’s cone. A shallow basin lay at the center of the floor, about as wide as a normal man could leap, and perhaps knee-deep if filled with water. A collection of large rocks covered the basin’s curved bottom, a cap Abraham had jammed into the volcano’s throat to keep curious children and small animals from falling into the deep gorge below. Since scaling the mountain was easy compared to some of the other summits, many fathers and sons from Abraham’s village hiked the trail as part of their initiation journey. A peek into the bowels of a volcano was surely a great temptation for young and old alike.
Flint took in a deep breath. Even with the cap, sulfur fumes seeped through dozens of narrow gaps between the irregular rocks, and heat from the magma river radiated into the granite, making the edges glow. As he warmed his hands over the rising air, he looked back at the cave entrance. “Aren’t you coming?” he called.
A boy, no more than twelve years old, peered in. Dressed only in a thin tunic and knee breeches, he tiptoed into the volcano’s cone, his mouth hanging open as his eyes darted from side to side. “Mountain big!” he cried. As his echo bounced around, he grinned.
“Didn’t Greevelow ever tell you about this place?” Flint asked.
“Father tell.” The boy pointed at himself. “Windor stay away.”
“You’re a good boy, Windor. You’re far more obedient than most of my subjects.” Flint pulled a sheaf from the mule’s back and threw it into the basin. As the heat from the rocks dried the moisture in the reeds, white vapor rose into the funnel above and seeped out the top and into the sky. Sizzles and pops rebounded from wall to wall, making the room sound like a cookhouse with twenty pans frying muskrat bacon.
Flint heaved the second sheaf next to the first and scattered the kindling sticks over the reeds. “Did you bring the starters?” he asked as he peeled off his outer clothing.
Windor produced two stones from a pouch tied to his leather belt and looked at Flint with wide eyes. “I light?”
Flint nodded. Windor knelt and struck the stones together next to the edge of a clump of reeds. After several tries, the grass ignited, and the flame crawled over the sheaf, spreading out and puffing strings of black smoke along the way.
Soon, the kindling crackled and burned. The smoke thickened and shot through the conic chimney of stone in billowing plumes. Flint pulled the final item from the mule’s back, a broad leaf as wide as his body and nearly as long. He handed the edge to Windor and spiked his voice with excitement. “Now run around the fire and fan the flames!”
Windor sprinted around the basin, jumping while whipping the leaf as if it were a dragon’s wing. The rising smoke twisted. The flames exploded into an inferno and spun with the smoke and Windor’s unabated dance. Soon, the bonfire looked like a tornado, undulating as the top crept closer and closer to the cone’s exit.
Soon, Windor slowed down, panting in the raging heat. Flint lowered himself to his knees, folded his hands, and gazed at the flaming cyclone. After clearing his throat, he spoke, careful to enunciate each syllable.
Arramos, dragon king, lord of my life,
Come to my flames I pray.
Grant me the pleasure of hearing your words;
Show me the bountiful way.
Three tongues of fire jutted from the tornado. One shaped itself into the head of a dragon, the second into its body, complete with a spiny ridge and wings on its back, and the third into a long tail. When all three parts combined, the fiery dragon animated. As the rest of the fire swirled through the body, the wings flapped slowly, and the tail swayed back and forth. Sparks flew from its mouth, then a crackling voice.
“Why do you call upon Arramos?”
Windor halted. His jaw dropped open, and he backed toward the perimeter wall.
“He is a friend,” Flint said. “Don’t be frightened.” Staying on his knees, he focused on the dragon’s eyes, two red spots in the midst of the flames. “Abraham has escaped, but I doubt that he will get back to his village in time to spoil your plans. Earlier, I wounded his leg to ensure his immobility, and I pierced his hand to prevent his use of a weapon. Two of my people guided him to the river, so he won’t die.”
Arramos growled, but it seemed more of a thoughtful rumble than a snarl of anger. “His escape is not exactly what I planned, but all is well. From what I see happening in his village, we need not worry. He will never arrive in time.”
Flint glanced at Windor. The boy crouched near the cave entrance, trembling as he watched.
“I brought you a gift,” Flint continued. “Pledge for pledge.”
“So soon? I have not delivered the woman to you yet.”
Flint shook his head. “It is a matter of opportunity. The boy’s parents are the ones who helped Abraham. Of course, it brought no harm, but it was still an act of rebellion that must have consequences. Otherwise, my rule will crumble.”
The flames congealed around the dragon’s body, making him look solid, though his scales remained undefined and shimmering as if made of molten gold. “I am pleased with the offering, and I find it amusing that you wield such an iron fist. Are you not the man who himself rebelled because of the iron fist of another?”
Flint tensed his jaw but kept his voice calm. “All humans have autonomy, not these beasts of burden. It was because of my rebellion that they were able to enter our realm in the first place, so I am their master.”
As the fire’s spin slowed, Arramos laughed. “I was the first to suggest different classes of humanity, so I have no quarrel with you. I merely suggested that it was amusing.”
Taking a deep draw of the sulfur-tinged air, Flint rose to his feet and turned toward Windor, who still cowered in a crevice. “Let’s hope you stay amused long enough to give me what I want.”
As he walked toward Windor, the boy’s eyebrows shot up. He scuffled his feet against the floor, trying to scoot farther away, but the wall blocked his escape. Flint grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the fire.
Windor kicked and slapped Flint’s hand. “Not burn!” he shouted. “Not burn!”
Flint jerked him to the edge of the basin and held him upright with both hands on his thin biceps. Windor stiffened his limbs, but his body trembled, shaking his dark curly hair just under Flint’s chin.
“Get on with it,” the dragon growled. “This portal will close soon, and I am in no mood to open it again.”
Flint pushed, but the boy grasped his wrist, pulling Flint with him. They both flailed their arms as they teetered on the edge of the basin. Windor regained his balance first. He jerked Flint away from the fire, then bolted out of the cave.
Flint toppled to the floor, scraping his elbows. Heat flamed his cheeks as he pushed himself up to his knees. “Stupid little monkey!” he shouted. “I’ll have you in flames before this day is over!”
Arramos roared with laughter. “Seeing you so humiliated is worth the loss. The lamb becomes a savior for his crucifier. How poetic!”
Leaping to his feet, Flint pointed a stiff finger at Arramos. “Just get Angel for me. She must be mine!”
“All in good time. When the childlike ark calls for the dragon, he will be able to enter your world and do as he pleases. We will soon make Abraham’s children learn how to suffer, beginning with the pangs of childbirth.” As the fire’s spin continued to slow, Arramos faded. “Take care not to awaken this portal too often. If one of the Oracles of Fire discovers it, she will be able to use it to call upon Earth, Hades, and even Heaven. We don’t want to open that door, do we?”
Flint shook his head. “All would be lost.”
As the fire’s spin slowed, the dragon melded with the flames and disappeared. Flint turned, grabbed the mule’s rope, and stalked away. After ducking under the cave’s mouth, he emerged into the night air and glared at Pegasus. He grumbled under his breath. “I will have that wench. When Abraham sends her away, she will forget about her love for him and cling to me. When she bears my child, my victory will be complete.”
Billy peered into the darkness, searching for a light or any kind of landmark that would help him figure out where they were. But only the plane’s signal lights blinked in his field of vision. Even those seemed to be swallowed by the pure blackness that surrounded them, and the propeller buzz had dampened in this strange airspace. It felt as if they were floating in the midst of nothingness, much like the inner core of the candlestone. He had wondered if the engine would stall with such a dive, but even in this odd atmosphere, it kept running without a hiccup.
His father turned up the cabin lights and stared at the instruments. “The meters aren’t working,” he said as he tapped one of the gauges. “It’s like we’re in outer space.”
“And no more g-forces,” Billy added. “We must not be falling, but if we finally come out into open air at a ninety-degree angle, it won’t be easy to pull up.” He swung back to the passengers. Sir Barlow twitched his mustache and stared at him, but said nothing. Sir Patrick looked out the window, but if he saw anything other than darkness, he wasn’t letting on.
Billy turned to the front. It was like a state of suspended animation. Every movement felt awkward. Even talking seemed to take more effort than usual.
His father clutched the yoke. “Something’s happening!”
“Yeah. I feel it.” Billy tightened his belt. “We’re dropping again.”
“I’m getting an altitude reading,” his father said, “five thousand feet, but we’re at a level angle.” He pointed at the dashboard. “Our descent’s slowing. The wings must be catching air.”
As Billy leaned over to have a look, a light in his father’s window caught his eye. A huge yellow disk came into view just above an uneven horizon. “Is that a moon?”
Sir Barlow unbuckled and pushed into the cockpit. “It is, to be sure, William, but it is like no moon I have ever seen. The face is quite different.”
“It is larger,” Sir Patrick said, now sitting in Barlow’s place. “By about 15 to 20 percent. The features are quite different. In fact, I can’t see any maria at all, though there are a number of significant craters.”
“Maria?” Billy asked.
“Lunar seas. It’s a Latin term. Obviously this is not the moon we know.”
“We’re no longer dropping,” Billy’s father said. “But what we’re flying over, I can’t say.”
Barlow leaned so far into the cockpit, he blocked Billy’s view of his father. “I see flickering lights on the ground,” Barlow said, “and they’re moving.”
Billy peeked over Barlow. “People carrying lanterns?”
“I believe so,” his father said. “That field they’re in would be big enough for landing if they weren’t on it. We’ll have to find another place.”
They flew over a small forest, then a village illuminated by more lanterns. From above, the modest huts looked like clay models, but the stream of people funneling toward the field proved it to be a little town alive with activity.
Soon, they found another field on the opposite side of the village and landed. The moment Billy’s father cut the engine, a jet of ice sprayed over their windshield.
Billy lurched back in his seat. “Where did that come from?”
“Strange weather in this world,” Barlow said. “That was a sudden storm, indeed.”
Something struck the tail, giving the plane a jolt. As the passengers rocked back and forth, Billy’s father hustled to the rear exit door. “This is no storm.”
Billy followed and stood behind his father as he threw the door open. Outside, two red eyes hovered in the black air, wavering from side to side like a snake ready to strike. Then, as the eyes moved into the light emanating from the plane’s interior, the creature’s surrounding form became clear.
Billy’s father held up his hands. “We are not enemies, good dragon. I am Jared, and I have come here in peace.”
The dragon reared up on its haunches and let out a whistle but nothing more. It blinked, its red eyes glowing like fire.
“He’s white,” Billy said. “Do you think he even understands our language?”
The dragon whistled again, then spat out a stream that splashed into the cabin in a spray of ice crystals.
“Was that a yes?” Billy asked.
The dragon spat another frosty stream, this one smaller than the first.
“I think he understands. He just can’t speak.” Billy shrugged his shoulders. “So what should I say to a dragon from another world?”
A new voice piped up. “Tell him you’ll rub his belly.” A pigtailed girl holding a bright lantern walked below the dragon’s forelegs and pointed a metal tube at his underside. “Albatross has a soft spot right about there.” She set her lantern down and pushed her fist into the dragon’s stomach, twisting it as she pushed.
Albatross let out a long, warbling whistle. “My name is Listener,” the girl said, smiling broadly. “I saw you through my spyglass before you got here, so I hid behind Albatross. I’ve never seen a mechanical dragon, so I wanted to be sure it wouldn’t try to freeze me.”
“Nice to meet you, Listener.” Billy extended the airstair and climbed to the ground, followed by his father and Sir Barlow. Sir Patrick looked on through the doorway. After Billy introduced everyone, he touched a spine on Albatross’s tail. “I’ve never seen a white dragon. Where I come from, they’re either reddish or light brown.” He nodded at the jumper the little girl was wearing. “The light brown ones look sort of like your dress. And they breathe fire instead of ice.”
Sir Barlow patted Albatross on the neck. “He is a fine dragon, to be sure, young lady, but I am wondering why a child like you is out here by yourself in the middle of the night.”
“I’m not by myself.” She lifted the spyglass and looked at the moon. “Albatross is here, so I came out to watch Pegasus. It eclipsed last night, and it’s always brightest the next night.”
Billy wanted to ask a million questions about this new world, but he settled for the one at the forefront of his mind. “Have you had any other visitors lately? I’m looking for a boy my age named Walter and a girl named Ashley, who’s a little older.”
Listener nodded but kept the spyglass over her eye. “They’re at the birthing garden with all the others. Another girl from their world is getting ready to call for a warrior, but everyone is nervous about it because Father Abraham isn’t here.”
Billy pointed at her. “That was my next question. A prophet named Enoch told us to find Abraham.”
She lowered her spyglass, her eyes now wide. “Enoch spoke to you?”
“Yes. He said if Abraham was missing, I had to bring him back to his people. Nothing’s more important.”
She swung around and extended her spyglass toward a line of mountains in the distance. “Flint is holding Father Abraham prisoner in the marshlands. Our soldiers are going to rescue him as soon as the warrior comes.”
Billy grabbed his father’s sleeve. “That’s too late. Enoch said Abraham has to be there when the people called for the warrior.”
“They are already gathering,” Listener said. “The ceremony will begin soon.”
Billy’s father grabbed the airplane’s fuselage and vaulted inside. “I’ll rev it back up!”
“Do you know how to get to the marshlands?” Billy asked Listener.
“They’re easy to find.” She pointed at the landing gear. “Can your dragon land in a swamp?”
As the engine roared to life, Listener and Albatross backed away. Billy had to shout to compete with the noise. “Maybe in real shallow water if there aren’t any trees or high grass around.”
Shaking her head, Listener raised her voice. “You can’t tell what’s shallow or deep when it’s dark.”
Billy’s father returned to the doorway. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Dad, Listener says we won’t be able to find a place to land in the swamp.”
She turned and set her palm on the dragon. “Albatross can take us there. When we land, we can point out a safe place.”
“You want us to follow the dragon?” Billy asked.
“If you and I ride him together, one of us can hold a lantern for your mechanical dragon to follow.”
Billy pointed at himself. “You want me to ride?”
“Sure. Haven’t you ever ridden a dragon before?”
“Yeah.” Billy grinned at his father. “It was a pretty wild ride.”
She reached for the ground and lifted a leather strap. “If you’ll help me get his seats on, we can leave right away.”
“I will help you, lass,” Sir Barlow said as he picked up another strap. “I wish we had used these when I had to ride Legossi. She once launched so fast, I fell off and nearly broke my leg.”
Billy and his father pitched in, and, following Listener’s directions, they had the seats on in a matter of a few minutes.
Still shouting, Billy touched Listener’s shoulder. “I assume the garden is where we saw those lights. We should warn them to wait for Abraham.”
She tilted her head to the side and rubbed her cheek against his hand. “You can if you want to, but everyone’s already really scared. If any more strangers come, I’m not sure what they would do, especially strangers who fly in a mechanical dragon.”
“But Walter and Ashley will vouch for us,” Billy said. “They know who we are.”
“Valiant, our best warrior, is suspicious of everything, especially Ashley and her dragon, but you can try. The men can go and warn them while you and I find Abraham, but I don’t think we’re strong enough to defeat Flint by ourselves.”
“We’ll all go,” Billy’s father said. “Finding Abraham is our first priority.”
Sir Patrick climbed down the stairs. “I will find the gathering. Perhaps an old man entering their midst alone will not raise too much anxiety.” He turned and strode toward the village lights, his shoulders sagging as he faded into the dim surroundings.
Listener pointed at Billy’s sweatshirt. “That won’t be warm enough.” She picked up a heavy coat from the ground and slid her arms through the sleeves. “It’s much colder up there. I brought my coat in case a shadow person came around. Albatross is so protective, he would’ve flown me a mile in the air. He can heat up his scales for us, but it’s never enough.”
“I will get your coat.” Sir Barlow lumbered up the stairs and returned within seconds holding the coat and a scabbard, the hilt of the Excalibur replica visible at one end. “This first, William. You can wear it at your waist instead of on your back.”
As soon as Billy had attached the scabbard, Barlow helped him put on his coat. “Find a place for us to land,” Barlow said, “and I will fight at your side.” He clambered back up the stairs and disappeared in the belly of the plane.
When the door closed, Listener pursed her lips and let out a short whistle burst. Albatross lowered his head, creating a stairway with his neck. Listener hustled up the spiny ridges and took her seat in the front. “Albatross isn’t the easiest dragon to fly. Since he knows me, I’d better guide him.”
Billy picked up the lantern and followed. He had to stretch his legs to step around Listener and reach the backseat. With the lantern swinging in his hand, the sword dangling at his side, and a cold breeze biting his skin, the process was tedious, but he finally managed to settle in the leathery chair and tie the harness around his waist.
“Give us as much heat as you can,” Listener called.
Within seconds, a wave of warmth rose from the dragon’s scales. Billy set a hand closer to its body and let the heat radiate into his skin. If the little girl was right, he might need all the warmth he could get.
As Merlin taxied into position behind Albatross, Listener whistled again, louder and longer this time. The dragon stretched out his wings and leaped into the air. Billy grabbed the back of Listener’s seat and hung on. Although Albatross lifted with great strength, the flight seemed far rougher than when Billy rode atop Clefspeare. This dragon dipped and rose abruptly with every beat of his wings, but he seemed to know what he was doing as he flew low over a farm at the outskirts of the village.
Looking back, Billy caught sight of the trailing airplane. He lifted the lantern and waved it, but when the buffeting winds nearly blew out its flame, he propped it on the back of his seat.
Merlin closed in, then kept pace, staying about a hundred yards behind Albatross’s swinging tail.
“We’ll pass over the grasslands first,” Listener shouted. “We can fly low enough to see what’s down there, but when we get to the marshes, we’ll have to go higher to stay away from Flint’s archers.”
Billy shivered as he tried to hold the lantern while watching the endless field of grass below. With the moon casting a yellowish-white glow, the wind made the heads of grain look like sea foam being tossed about by churning waves.
As he scanned the landscape, it seemed that shadows appeared and disappeared, as if painted and then instantly erased by an indecisive artist. After a few minutes, one shadow stayed constant, a low, sleek profile that cut through the grass like a living scythe.
Billy pointed at the shape. “What’s that?”
Listener leaned over at a precarious angle. “A prairie lion. I think he’s stalking something.”
“There!” Billy pointed again. “A man! The lion’s chasing that man!”
“Hang on!” Listener slapped Albatross’s neck and kicked him with her heel. The dragon plunged and banked at the same time. He swooped between the lion and the man, swiped at the lion with his tail as he zoomed past, and slid across the grass on his belly until he came to a stop.
Pulling out his sword, Billy leaped to the ground and sprinted through the waist-high grass. About fifty feet ahead, the man held a stick with both hands, pointing it at the lion. He pivoted and aimed his stick at another shadow, a second lion that approached from the other side.
Billy leaped in front of the closer lion, whipped out his sword, and shouted, “Get back!”
The man sidestepped toward him. “I appreciate your kindness, stranger, but these lions are not easily frightened. They are obviously famished and desperate. I fear that we might have to strike an offensive posture to ward them off.”
“I’m on it.” Billy took a step toward the first lion and raised his sword.
“Father Abraham!” Listener ran toward them, still clutching her spyglass, but stopped when she saw the lion again. “Uh oh.” As she backed away slowly, the airplane skidded to a quick landing not far from Albatross. The lion spied Listener and lowered itself into a crouch, ready to pounce.
Billy charged, but the lion sprang toward her before he could reach it with his sword. Suddenly, a stream of ice shot through the grass, knocking the lion on its side. Billy slipped and fell on his back, but he kept his grip on the sword’s hilt.
Albatross scooped up Listener with his wing and roared at the lion, spewing a flood of ice over it and Billy.
Billy scrambled to his feet, slipping and sliding. The other lion pounced at Abraham. Its paws struck his chest, and its body snapped his feeble stick as it knocked him to the ground. Billy leaped toward them, but a stinging pain swept across his back. He toppled forward, spinning as he fell.
The first lion lunged at him, its teeth bared and its claws outstretched. He thrust out his sword hand, but the lion flew off to the side, ripped out of mid-flight by a huge man with two muscular arms wrapped around its body.
“Barlow!” Billy leaped back to his feet. “Great tackle!”
“Get the other cat!” Barlow rolled with the lion, holding its mouth closed with one hand while fumbling for his sword with the other. “I’ll take care of this little kitty!”
Billy rushed toward Abraham. The cat straddled the man, growling and snapping as he pushed against its chest with bloody hands. Rearing back with the sword as he ran, Billy lunged. With a hefty swipe, he sliced into the lion’s chest, then shoved it away with his foot.
The cat fell to the ground and writhed in the grass but quickly righted itself before slinking away into the darkness. Billy braced Abraham’s back as he helped him sit up. “Are you okay?”
The moonlight revealed several gashes across his face, each one streaming blood. “I believe so, but I will need medical attention. There is a doctor in Peace Village who—”
“Here’s a first-aid kit!” Billy’s father dropped to his knees on the other side of Abraham and opened a white metal box. “Billy, get everyone inside Merlin. I’m sure the dragon can find his way home.”
“Yes, sir!”
Billy rose to leave, but Abraham grabbed his pant leg. “No need to tend to me here. Help me into your airplane. I must get back to my village immediately.”
Billy and his father lifted Abraham to his feet. As they helped him hobble past Barlow, now standing over a dead lion with a sword in its belly, Barlow gave them a nod, blood oozing from scratches on both sides of his face. “This cat just spent the last of its nine lives.” Barlow touched his cheek, wincing. “Somehow I doubt he thought I was his pajamas.”
When they reached Albatross, Abraham signaled for them to stop as he addressed the dragon. “You have done well, my friend. You may release Listener and fly home.”
Albatross unfurled his wing, revealing Listener crouching at his flank. She rushed toward Abraham, extending the spyglass. “I saw my mother! She’s standing in front of the birthing garden with everyone in your village looking at her. I think she’s getting ready to say something. Elam is standing next to her, and he seems really cross.”
Abraham touched the spyglass. “You saw Angel with this?”
She nodded.
“What color was her companion’s light?”
“I didn’t see her companion, but it likes to stay in her hair.”
Abraham’s body drooped. Billy and his father grunted as they held him up. Even in the dimness of moonlight, his face had clearly turned pale, shades of corpselike gray under ribbons of red. “We must hurry!” Abraham said, trembling as he tipped forward.
They hustled him into the airplane, and as soon as everyone was seated and buckled, Billy turned back to the passengers. Barlow leaned over Abraham and dabbed his wounds with a cotton swab. Listener sat alone on the other side of the aisle, looking out the window with her spyglass. “Albatross is on his way home.”
“That’s good,” Billy said. “No offense to the dragon, but I’d much rather ride in here than out there.” The increasing buzz of the propeller forced him to raise his voice. “I think you’ll like it, too.”
As the plane rolled over the bumpy field, Abraham reached across the aisle. “Listener, have you seen your mother again?”
She lowered the spyglass. “Not yet. I see far away things only once in a while.”
“Let me know if you do.” When the plane lifted into the sky, Abraham leaned back in his seat. “I have seen aircraft through my ovulum, but I never imagined that I would fly in one.”
Sir Barlow smeared a line of antibiotic ointment along one of Abraham’s deeper wounds. “I, too, was unaccustomed to modern conveyances when I emerged from the candlestone after over a thousand years of being trapped in that accursed gem, but it didn’t take me long to, as the modern idiom says, ‘learn the ropes.’”
“I see.” Abraham patted Sir Barlow’s forearm. “We have a few minutes. Let us tell each other our stories as quickly as possible. Afterwards, there may be very little time even to breathe.”