Dragon Sleeping (The Dragon Circle Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

In some ways, he was closer to this dog than he was to any person. Whenever Nick was really upset, he and the dog would take off together.

There was a part of the woods behind his house where he only went when he was angry, a part where a fire had roared on through, leaving great hollow pieces of wood in its wake. Whole trees still stood, except their wood had turned to charcoal. A branch as tall as he was would weigh a dozen pounds; a tree trunk could be tossed around like he was Hercules. Nick would go there when things were really bad: when his parents would have those screaming fights that seemed to go on for days.

His parents were staying together for him. That’s what they always said.

That’s why he had to leave. If he wasn’t around, they wouldn’t be fighting, would they? His mother said that didn’t make sense, but it made more sense to Nick than half the things his parents said to each other.

Out in the woods, behind his house, was the only time he ever felt free. He could run and yell and smash things, and Charlie would run and bark and jump alongside. Nick would fall down laughing, and the dog would collapse down next to him and lick his face. In his simple, trusting way, Charlie knew Nick better than anybody. Certainly better than anybody in Nick’s family.

Nick felt something wet. Charlie was licking his hand.

“Ah, our patient is recovering nicely,” the magician said brightly. “Obar’s cures always work!”

“Except when they don’t,” Raven replied drily.

“Well, most of the time, certainly,” the magician replied as he busied himself brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “After all, what in this world, or any world, is truly certain?”

“The dragon,” Raven answered.

“Well, possibly the dragon,” Obar allowed. “But, even if that’s the case, what can we do about it? Except what we are doing?” The magician answered his own questions as soon as they were out of his mouth. “Well, knowledge is the only thing that will beat the dragon. It does like to keep us ignorant. Still, we can use a bit of my skill to discover what else goes on.”

He spread his hands before him and waved his fingers at the floor.

Whirls of dust danced toward his palms.

“If you watch carefully,” Obar explained, “you may see some pictures in the dust.” His lips curled into the slightest of smiles as he glanced at his audience. “What is dust, after all, but tiny little particles from this whole world round? The dust keeps a bit of every place it’s been. With the proper care, it can even help show us these things.” He clapped his hands as the dust swirled before him. “This is also one reason it never pays to keep this place too clean.”

Dust leapt upward, forming a flowing curtain that rose to Obar’s waist.

“Oh, wow,” Jason murmured. A second later, he inhaled sharply, as if he’d been startled.

Nick frowned. As good as the magician’s trick had been, Jason still seemed far too appreciative. Did Jason see something beyond the swirling dirt? Nick moved over next to the younger boy to get a better look.

“Nunn is speeding his attack,” Obar said with a frown. He nodded brusquely. “He has a number of allies, pressed into service through promises—or fear. Mostly fear, I would imagine. However, his first effort might not be entirely successful.”

“Is that Mary Lou?” Jason asked.

“Well, yes,” Obar said with a touch of surprise. “That’s very good, you know. The untrained eye. My, my. We’ll have to keep you as far away from Nunn as possible.”

Where was Mary Lou? Nick squinted, but still could see nothing more than shifting dust.

“And those red creatures?” Jason added.

Red? The only color Nick saw was a swirling yellowish grey. “Nunn’s minions,” Obar explained. “They come from his home island. He must have brought them over for this first assault.”

He peered over at Nick. “You seem less than pleased. You see nothing? I assure you, that is far more ordinary.”

That, Nick thought, was exactly how he felt. Ordinary. Being upstaged by Jason Dafoe was too much.

A great roar came from outside the window: the sound of some creature in pain.

“Oomgosh!” Raven called. He flew from Nick’s shoulder to the stone windowsill. Nick followed him to see what had happened.

“There is a disturbance!” the Oomgosh called back in a voice that seemed to quaver more than before.

Raven glanced back at Nick. “The trees tell him when they are hurt.

Sometimes he is even hurt himself.”

“I am quite all right, my Raven!” the Oomgosh’s booming voice replied. “More startled than damaged. The voice of the trees is very strong.”

“The Oomgosh informs us that the battle is quite nearby,” Obar explained.

“What isn’t nearby?” Raven snapped.

“It’s one of the advantages of living on an island,” Obar admitted. “It cuts down substantially on travel time.”

“But Mary Lou—” Jason objected.

Obar frowned. The dancing dust was gone. “Yes, she is involved. And she is holding her own.” He looked up, straight at Nick. The intensity of his gaze was startling. Nick realized this was one of the few times the wizard had made direct eye contact.

He smiled again and the severity was gone. “But if Nunn is beginning the attack in earnest,” he asked wistfully, “what can we do but defend ourselves?”

The wizard clapped his hands again. This time the far wall vanished, the stone dissolving to show a great area beyond, although most of it was lost in shadow. Nick had the feeling, though, that this new space went on forever.

Obar peered critically at Nick and Jason. “Can’t use a bow?” Nick began to feel inadequate all over again.

“Never mind,” Obar continued before either of them could reply. “You’ll be fine.”

He turned away from the two to regard the great shadowed hole where the wall had stood. A single point of light appeared through the shadows, small at first, but growing rapidly larger.

“Eager, are we?” Obar called.

Nick didn’t feel the wizard was talking to them. He realized that the light wasn’t simply growing larger, it was coming toward them, a long, narrow shape rushing toward the room.

There was a ripping sound as the light flew into the daylight and Obar’s hand, like the air was solid between this room and the space beyond.

The light vanished as the object settled against the magician’s palm, gone as quickly as the flick of a switch. Nick realized the flying thing was a sword with a long, flat blade, slightly curved. Obar looked soberly at the weapon as he began to speak again.

“You remember our bargain,” he said quietly. “Even though you will have a new master, that bargain remains, and you will share it with him as well.”

Nick’s first reaction had been right: Obar was talking to the sword, and despite the darkened room and the way the weapon had flown into the wizard’s grasp, it was this conversation that made Nick really nervous.

The wizard held the sword out to Nick.

“Everything is understood,” the wizard said gently. “This is for you.”

What? Maybe the sword understood what was happening, but Nick was totally in the dark. Nick wasn’t sure he could trust either wizard or weapon, and the fact that Obar was smiling made this whole exchange even worse.

“But I can’t—” Nick began. Even as he protested, his fingers gripped the hilt. It felt surprisingly warm in his hand.

“Nonsense,” Obar interrupted. Nick was less than pleased to see that the wizard was pointing a warning finger at the sword. “Don’t even think it.”

“What is this—sword?” Nick asked, feeling that the word didn’t begin to describe the thing in his hand.

“Simply one of those special objects I keep in storage,” Obar answered. “A good weapon for someone who lacks experience. It has a bit of a mind of its own. Not that it’s alive—really. Think of it more as a simple machine. I just had to give it a bit of instruction. But it knows its job. And it wants to be used.”

The sword suddenly felt heavier in Nick’s hands. He looked down to see that the weapon was now settled in an elaborate sheath made from the skin of some golden animal, sewn in a zigzag pattern with inlaid studs of silver. And the sheath was tied to a belt, no doubt just the right size for Nick’s waist.

“It’s best to keep your sword covered when not in use,” Obar continued. “Otherwise, there might be some—complications.”

Nick had had quite enough of these half-explanations. “Wait a moment. You say I can use this sword. But you make it sound dangerous.”

“Do I?” Obar replied, as if startled that anyone could think such a thing. “Well, then—no, of course the sword won’t hurt you.” He paused again before adding, “Unless of course you want it to.” Obar frowned and looked perplexed, almost as if he was trying to explain things to himself at the same time as Nick. The magician turned away from the shadow space to frown at Jason. The stone wall re-formed, stone by solid stone, to hide the shadows again.

“Your friend, I’m afraid, is destined for greater things than enchanted swords.” Obar looked over at a cluttered table in the corner and picked up a short dagger he found in the middle of the pile. “Here,” he said as he offered the blade to Jason, “take a knife to defend yourself. For emergencies, you know.”

“Raven!” Oomgosh called from below.

“My tree friend grows restless,” Raven called. “The battle must be growing fierce.” He cawed loudly and rose from Nick’s shoulder with a great flapping of wings. “Join us when you can!” he called over his shoulder as he flew from the window.

“Join them?” Jason called. “Shouldn’t we go?”

“You’ll catch up with them in a minute,” Obar replied. “This is only the beginning of the battles.” He turned his palms upward and stared at them, as if the answer might be there. “Nunn is very active. This might very well be the time. The dragon is close. He wants to be ready. As do we. But even Nunn doesn’t have unlimited strength.” He looked back at the boys, his forehead creased. “Please excuse some of my answers. In magic, it often pays to be indirect.”

He clapped his hands and the castle disappeared. Nick and Jason found themselves on the edge of the forest.

“Get away from him, you apes!” the black bird called behind them. “Or you’ll know why so many fear Raven!”

Both boys turned to see Raven perched on the Oomgosh’s shoulder. Three short, red-furred things, looking like a cross between ape and human, advanced slowly toward the tree man. Each of the red-furred creatures held a spear in both of its hands, ready to jab at the Oomgosh.

“They need us!” Jason called as he rushed forward.

“Wait a minute!” Nick called as he hurried after his neighbor. These ape-things had spears. Jason only held a knife. Maybe, Nick thought, he could scare the things away with his sword.

He grabbed the sword hilt. The weapon made a noise as it pulled free of its sheath, half the clang of metal on metal, half a whistling moan.

The apes stopped and stared at Nick. The sword felt remarkably light in Nick’s hand. A well-balanced blade. That’s the sort of thing it would say in those swashbuckler books Nick used to read. He swung the sword in a great arc above his head.

The apes shrieked and threw their spears. The sword jerked in Nick’s grasp, the weapon guiding his hand, as the flat of the blade quickly deflected each of the projectiles. The sword pulled violently, as if it wanted to fly from Nick’s grip to embed itself in one of the red- furred enemy.

The apes screamed again, this time more in fear than rage. They ran. The sword jerked again, as if eager to follow. Nick held it firmly as he watched the creatures flee.

The sword wrenched to the side, leading Nick’s arm in another great arc.

“Ow!” Jason called.

The sword suddenly felt limp in Nick’s hand. He looked over and saw that the swing of the sword had sliced through Jason’s shirtsleeve.

“What have I done?” Nick asked. “Jason?”

The younger boy pulled apart the fabric to look at his arm. “It’s only a scratch,” he said with a stoicism that wasn’t matched by the fright on his face.

“You haven’t done anything,” the Oomgosh said more softly than usual. “It’s the wizard’s sword.”

“The sword?” Nick looked down at the weapon in his hand. It still moved easily, but it no longer tugged at his grip.

“No doubt it needed blood,” Raven explained.

“Blood?” Nick felt that his brain was much too slow to accept what had happened here.

“Maybe because it hasn’t been used in a long time,” the Oomgosh added.

“Perhaps it needs blood every time it is drawn,” Raven suggested.

Nick almost dropped the sword. Instead, he pushed the blade back into its sheath with exaggerated caution.

“No doubt that sword will give you great skill,” the Oomgosh said. “But all skill has its price.”

What had the wizard given him? Nick looked over at his friend. “Jason, do you want to sit down? Maybe we should look at that.”

The younger boy shook his head stubbornly. “It really is only a scratch. It only bled a little.” He looked away from Nick, toward Raven and the Oomgosh. “Mary Lou needs us.”

The great black bird cawed. “Raven will show you the way!” Nick saw the others turn to hurry after the bird. They had to save Mary Lou. But how? Nick looked ahead to where Jason held his wounded arm. If the sword would do something like that, how could he risk using it again?

O
ne of the attackers at the edge of the front line screamed as an arrow hit him in the back. Other arrows fell into the red-furred crowd behind him. Some of the People had gotten to their weapons as well.

Mary Lou fitted a second arrow to her bow. She wished she had had a chance to test her gift before she had to use it. More of the invaders clustered behind their wounded leader as he renewed his charge for Mary Lou.

“Die!” he cried again.

Five of the red-furred things pulled back their spears in unison as they rushed toward her.

Blue light flashed to her right.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hasty?” the prince asked by her side.

The enemy leader and his spear-carriers shrieked even more fiercely as they shifted their charge to the newcomer. Five spears launched toward the prince. Mary Lou glanced to her side to see the weapons pass through the apparition and clatter harmlessly on the bundled logs of the platform.