Dragon Sleeping (The Dragon Circle Trilogy Book 1) (29 page)

She hadn’t realized, until that moment, how much she really wanted to get out of there. “Then I can get down to my friends?”

The prince considered this for an instant before answering. “Perhaps, eventually. For now, I think we need to take a way down that gives us some distance from the People’s battle.”

Her name echoed in the distance as hundreds of high voices sang it in triumph.

At that instant, Mary Lou thought she would be happy if she never heard her name again. “Let’s go, then.”

“We must leave from the far corner of the platform,” the prince said with a mischievous grin. “Come, I will walk beside you.”

“I’ve never seen you walk,” Mary Lou mentioned as they crossed the logs.

“Well, I could float, I suppose, or pop in and out of existence every fifty feet or so,” the prince agreed. “The act of walking, though, seems so human. It feels so free.” He laughed out loud. “It also feels rather good to do something to the People rather than for them.”

“Were they horrible to you? I mean the People?” Mary Lou would hate them twice as much if they had done bad things to the prince.

“Oh, no, they were neither particularly bad nor good. To have them treat me one way or another, they’d have to consider me a thinking, feeling being.” He shook his head. Mary Lou thought she could see anger behind his smile. “I’ve been their slave, a tool, really, to use when they see fit and to ignore the rest of the time. I am finally—
finally
! —doing something from my own choice.” He threw his arms open to the trees before him. “Let me tell you, the illusion of free will is a wonderful thing.”

“Illusion?” Mary Lou asked with a frown.

“That sounds cynical, no doubt.” The prince tossed his head up toward the sky, a chuckle in his throat. “Every hour since you called me, I remember more. Especially, I remembered the dragon. When you are dealing with a power as strong as that, all questions of free will are doubtful.”

“The dragon?” Mary Lou looked into the prince’s transparent eyes. “What does the dragon want?”

“There are still some things I can’t remember. Or perhaps things I never knew.” The prince turned away. “But here’s our escape route.” He waved at a rope bridge before them, another of the People’s pathways to the world below.

“Where are the People?” Mary Lou asked. She could no longer hear her name.

“They seem to be pursuing the others,” the prince replied. “It will give us a few extra minutes to get away.”

Mary Lou hoped that Bobby and Todd would be all right. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to them while they were trying to rescue her.

But there was nothing else she could do but leave. The People certainly wouldn’t listen to her. She had to be in charge of her own life now. And maybe she could learn something more about the prince.

The young man in blue led the way across the tree path that spiraled down toward the forest floor. His feet never quite touched the bark and branches that they passed over. She was glad he made the effort to act like the human he used to be. It was a nice way for them to feel closer.

As they descended, the prince pointed out things near the path: the leaves the People used for Mary Lou’s cast, the call of a certain bird renowned for its plumage, the manner in which many of the limbs of the great trees grew out almost horizontally, so that they could walk with little difficulty along the People’s road. It seemed to take no time at all to reach the forest floor. Mary Lou truly enjoyed listening to the sound of the prince’s voice. And he often seemed as surprised as Mary Lou by the information he had at his command.

“Obviously,” he said as they reached the lowest branches of the tree road, “I was once a person of some learning.”

“I imagine your earlier life must have been fascinating!” Mary Lou enthused. “I hope you remember all of it soon.”

The prince’s smile seemed a little strained. “Let’s hope I don’t remember something that I don’t want to know.” He pointed to the thick vines that hung to the forest floor. “But now it’s time to stop walking and start descending.”

Mary Lou knelt on the great branch. Her fingers barely touched when she put her hands around the nearest vine. She supposed she could shinny down one of these things, just like a rope in gym class.

“I’ll meet you below,” the prince announced abruptly. Then he was gone.

Mary Lou swung down on the vine quickly, afraid that if she took too long she might lose him. These past few hours, when the prince and she had had a chance to be alone, she had been as happy as she’d ever been, either here or back in the neighborhood.

She half climbed, half slipped down the vine, reaching the ground in only a minute. It had been growing darker as they descended from the People’s stronghold. Now, on the forest floor, it seemed like dusk, even though it was far closer to noon.

“Prince?” she called.

“Here I am,” a voice called back, but it seemed to come from everywhere, the great tree boles, the hanging vines, and the leaf-strewn ground. “I could be a part of everything—”

His voice faded as he spoke.

“—or I could be right by your side,” his voice said, suddenly strong. She looked to her right and saw her prince with his ever-present smile.

Mary Lou shivered. In a place like this, she wouldn’t mind if her prince was a little more solid. “I wish we could get out of these woods. This darkness is creepy.”

“Maybe you’d like to go home?”

She glanced at her companion. Prince or no prince, part of her would.

“Maybe we can find a way,” the prince added gently. “I wish I could remember more!”

He looked down at his transparent hands. He chuckled, deep in his throat.

“I don’t have to stay here, either. You’ve let me break free of whatever held me there. I can go and find out where I come from, who I truly am. Oh, God, to be free of everyone!”

And with that, he was gone again.

“Prince?” Mary Lou called. “What are you doing? Is this your idea of a joke?”

There was no answer.

“Prince?” Mary Lou didn’t like this. “I have to find Todd and Bobby! I need your help! I don’t know where I am!”

She only heard the sound of the wind, blowing the leaves far overhead.

“It’s dark here!” she called, hearing the panic rise with every word. “Don’t leave me alone!”

There was a sudden flare of light before her. Mary Lou threw her hand in front of her eyes. When she looked again, the light had shrunk and taken on a two-legged form.

“Ah, dear Mary Lou,” Zachs purred. “I’ll be very happy to light your way.”

N
unn screamed.

This one, this human, this Evan Mills, had invaded his body. The fire he gained when he took life was no longer sweet. It was devastating. Pain shot from the core of his bones, as if his skeleton would shatter into a thousand pieces, ripping his flesh apart in a great explosion of organs and blood.

“No!” the magician called. And he heard the voice of Evan Mills inside his own, the pain of Evan Mills a part of his pain. This human had somehow thrown himself within Nunn with no idea of what he had done. But Nunn had knowledge, and the knowledge would let him survive. He opened his palms, and the dragon eyes that hid within there rose to the surface of his flesh.

“I will not die!” he screamed, but it was still both voices, crying out not so much in unison as in confrontation. But no one could overcome the power of the dragon within him. The second fire flowed through his body to consume the first, the cleansing heat swallowing the pain and absorbing that entity within that had once been Evan Mills, breaking that one defiant voice into a dozen, a hundred, a thousand smaller voices, each one less able to cry out against the wizard, against the fire, against the hack and hew, as his soul was sundered into a thousand bits, and the voices could not be heard at all, and only the energy remained.

Yes, much better. Yes. Nunn looked up and banished the Captain with a wave of his hand. Pity he still had enough energy for insolence. It wouldn’t last long.

Nunn saw three of the neighbors before him: Carl Jackson, trying to stand before the onslaught; Margaret Furlong and Harold Dafoe, cringing before what they saw. He had uses for someone like Jackson. With the Captain busy elsewhere, his troops could use a new leader. Jackson seemed vain and cruel enough to be ideal. And the others? Well, Nunn could use anyone, one way or another.

But the others. They had left. No one had ever escaped from him before. Not that he couldn’t pursue them, capture them all over again. But he had never found anyone to be so problematic as this batch of newcomers.

This time the dragon had outdone itself.

O
bar smelled blood.

A wave of his hand, and his portable sun returned.

There, in front of him, were two carcasses, two hollow shells that had once been wolves before they had all of their blood drained away. Their draining was so complete that Obar was a bit surprised there was an odor of blood left to smell.

Still, a wizard’s senses were sharp, at least some of the time. Nick and the sword had certainly passed this way. So where was the boy now?

Obar was about to call Nick’s name when he realized he wasn’t alone. No, it wasn’t the boy, unless he had learned to transport himself by magic. For Obar always knew when magic was around. Something in the air, he thought. And that something was directly behind him.

The magician snapped off the sun. Obar wouldn’t be caught that easily. He squeezed the dragon’s eye deep within his robes, letting the fire fill his veins.

Leap, he thought.

And he leapt some hundreds of yards into the woods.

He turned, hoping to seek out his adversary at a safe distance.

Except his adversary was no longer back where Obar had come from. The magician sensed that same tingling of sorcery, once again behind him.

The fire of the dragon was still within him. He waved his hands in a quick protection spell as he turned to look at what followed him.

An old woman, glowing faintly with a light of her own, stood before him in a pink housecoat. She smiled at him.

“Excuse me,” she said with a slight nod of her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You did leave a very pretty trail. I thought it would be a shame not to follow it.”

“I see—pardon?” Obar replied. Quite frankly, he didn’t see at all. “You followed my trail across the forest?”

“Well, eventually,” she admitted with the slightest little grin.

As the woman talked, Obar realized he had seen her before. She was one of the neighbors he had visited the other night with the ice cream wagon. He had hoped that wagon was an appropriate choice—and they had seemed to trust him, at least a little. Damn that meddling Nunn and his two dragon’s eyes! You had to be careful when your opponent had twice the firepower you did. But this woman—she looked quite different with this inward glow; far less frail than before, for one thing. Obviously, life in this place had begun to bring out her talents.

“You see,” she continued, and then paused again.

Constance Smith, yes, that was her name. Obar made a point of remembering names. When you were in his line of work, so many things passed your way that you simply had to forget some of them.

“I found myself someplace else,” she went on. “I’m afraid I’m not explaining this very well.”

Obar smiled and nodded. Sometimes there was no explaining magic, even to yourself.

“We were getting away from this Nunn person,” Mrs. Smith explained. “And I’ve discovered a way to—well, remove myself from a place and then deposit myself someplace else. This is the first time I’ve ever brought others along with me, though.” One of her hands fluttered protectively before her throat. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid I’m a little giddy here. Should I be telling you all this?” She got away from Nunn? Yes, this woman had considerable talents.

“Please,” Obar encouraged. “We have met before, you know.”

“We have?” Her frown was replaced by a sudden grin. “The ice cream man! I’m so sorry. Sometimes it’s difficult to recognize someone when you’re in a new situation. And I’m certainly in a new situation!”

“It is nice to see you again,” Obar replied, trying to bring the conversation into some kind of focus. He had much the same problem with magic sometimes, as if he had far too much on his mind for one thought to follow another. “But you were telling me how you followed my trail?”

“Yes, once I had brought myself—and the others, of course—to this other place, wherever it is, I saw a brilliant trail streaking past me. It really was lovely, you know. I couldn’t help but follow and see where it led.”

“Well, thank you,” Obar replied, a bit more flustered than he had expected. Until this moment, he had no idea any of his spells left a trail. “And that’s how you found yourself here?”

“Precisely,” she agreed.

There was still something bothering him. “And you said you brought others?” he asked.

“Well, I have, and I haven’t.” She smiled again, rather like a child telling a secret. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I had to wait until I thought things were safe. But I can’t leave them waiting, can I?” She waved up at the trees overhead. “Rebecca? Rose? Joan? Can you hear me?”

Three women floated down from the branches to land beside Constance Smith.

“Only four of you?” Nunn asked.

“Some of the others stayed behind,” a short blonde woman announced. Joan Blake, Obar recalled. “I think they were too afraid of Nunn.”

“My husband, Carl, is back there,” a pale woman with dark hair added. The way she stared at the ground with her shoulders slumped forward, she looked like she didn’t want to be here. Obar wondered if she wanted to be anywhere. Rebecca Jackson, that was her name. “He thinks Nunn has all the answers.”

“My husband stayed behind, too,” the third, well-groomed woman added very quickly, almost as if she wanted to dismiss what had happened. “I don’t know why. Harold always wants to do the right thing.”

“Margaret Furlong remained behind, too,” Constance Smith added. “Poor thing. She was quite distraught. Nunn did something to her husband.”