The Author's Blood (8 page)

As we have said, Machree was nursed back to health by the Wormling and Watcher before her unfortunate demise at the hands of the Dragon's army. Having been hidden by the two while he recuperated, Machree was not discovered by the Dragon's forces. And after hearing the conversation of the Wormling and others on the ground, he took flight and headed for the Castle of the Pines.

Before he entered the environs of the Dragon, however, a smaller, brown-winged bird caught up with him and forced him to land in a tree. It was Batwing.

“You would not have survived without their help,” Batwing said. “Would you betray the true King again?”

Machree cawed. “Why do you follow me?”

“I know what you're going to do. Watcher told me what you asked the Wormling to give to you—now you're going to the Dragon to alert him.”

Machree looked away.

“You don't know what you're doing. You don't know how evil the Dragon is. He wants to destroy everything the King has worked so hard to give us.”

“The
King
?” Machree snapped. “Watch what you say or the one you say is so evil will hear you.”

“I'm begging you,” Batwing said. “Long ago I tried to tell Tusin and Rotag we should give you another chance, and you do this? Watcher spoke highly of your courage. I can't believe you would betray her memory.”

Machree drew closer. “And how did
you
survive? Where were you when the attack came?”

“I was spying, gaining information about—”

“Aha, so you were with the Dragon himself? How convenient. Perhaps you were the one who gave away the location of the army of the Wormling, such as it was.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Leave me,” Machree said. “Before I alert them about you too.”

Batwing, tiny compared to Machree and without much power to do anything but fly and spy, gritted his teeth and struggled through the darkness and a southern wind, finally making it over the tree line and disappearing from Machree's sight.

The great bird settled in the treetop, looked toward the Castle of the Pines, and gave an ominous smile, as if he knew something no one else in the Lowlands knew, save one.

Owen and his ragtag band of followers were more rag than tag after walking day and night through town after town of empty huts and deserted streets strewn with toys and belongings—pointing to the quick withdrawal of the people. Now they stealthily approached the fortress known as Dragon City.

Vaxors guarded the four entrances, so it was impossible to see exactly what was going on inside, but by leaving his companions hidden and climbing a mountain, Owen was able to observe the construction of buildings and grading of roads. Horses and oxen did the heavy lifting, but many workers were humans. These were no doubt taken from the villages Owen and his group had been through. Owen's heart broke when he saw children forced to help.

He rejoined the others and said, “Since the Dragon's killed our army, he can do what he wants with the others.”

“And then throw them into the coliseum for his amusement,” Tusin said. “Most of those people are going to be killed by the Dragon's animals. How different the King is. He gives life, but the Dragon saps it from the people.”

Owen pulled out
The Book of the King
and read:

“Near the end of days, the people will be carried away into darkness and made prisoners by the evil one. His amusement will know no end as he constructs his stronghold. But it will not stand. The King comes to give life and life to its full.”

“It's almost as if the Dragon has read this and is trying to fulfill it for himself,” Tusin said.

Owen nodded. “He wants to prove the King wrong. But he's playing right into the King's hands.”

“How so?” Starbuck said. “Those people are not coming out. And all our friends have been killed.”

“Things are not always as they seem,” Owen said. “If you were to tell the people where I live that the evil of the Dragon exists, they would think you were crazy.”

“But
we
know he's real,” Starbuck said. “We see the effects every day.”

Batwing fluttered and sighed, clearly exhausted from his flight to speak with Machree. Owen had spoken with Batwing briefly about his findings but asked him not to tell the others what he had learned.

“What does that mean for us?” Batwing said. “What do we do now?”

“Keep track of the Dragon's progress,” Owen said, “and remember everything that happens inside the city—when they change guards, when work crews come out, where prisoners are held. We need all the information you can gather.”

Owen felt breath on his shoulder and turned. Rogers had moved behind him and stood looking at the intricate designs of the book. The boy had a special ability to move almost without being noticed.

“I cannot read anyway, sir,” he said. “But why are there pages at the back that have no writing on them?”

Owen flipped to the back. “I used to think this was simply where the missing chapter would go, but now I'm not sure.”

“Maybe just extra pages,” Starbuck said.

“Nothing the King does is wasted,” Owen said. “The pages are here for a reason. We just need to discover what it is.”

“What will you do now?” Tusin said. “If we stay here, where are you going?”

Owen closed the book. He had not told them what he had discovered from his study of it while breaching the fourth portal. He had read passages he had seen several times before, but it had only become clear to him during his final trip with Mucker what he was looking for and the consequences if he did not succeed.

“I'm taking Rogers with me, and we will be gone awhile,” Owen said.

Rogers's face lit up. Starbuck frowned.

“We have an important mission, and then I'll send word to you. Do not lose heart. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, no matter what you see, you must trust that all is for the eventual good. Do you understand?”

Tusin and Batwing nodded.

Starbuck seemed confused. “Why does Rogers get to go? Why not me? If it's about what happened back at the valley, I can explain!”

“Please,” Owen said, “keep your voice down. It's not because of anything you have done or not done. You had no control over what happened in the valley. Rogers is simply better suited for this journey and mission. You are valued no less than before.”

Starbuck hung his head.

Owen put a hand on his shoulder. “You have been through much. You have lost much. But no matter what you have lost, it will be returned to you. Filled to overflowing. What was given up for the cause of the King will be paid back again and again.”

Starbuck looked at him, mouth agape, as if Owen were speaking gibberish. “How? Can you bring my family and friends back to life?”

Again Owen looked deeply into the boy's eyes. “‘The King will one day dry every eye. Death itself will die. You will have no reason to grieve. You will not experience pain and heartache. Open your ears to my words. The things which are now will pass away and that which is new will come.'”

Starbuck's eyes darted. “Is that from
The Book of the King
?”

“It is one of my favorite passages. When I came upon the valley where our friends were buried, I had to look at it again for myself. Do not be ashamed of your anguish. I cried as well. But there is good news for all who follow the King. There is great hope for those who put their trust in him.”

When it was dark again, Owen took Rogers up the narrow, winding ridge from where he could see the entire city of the Dragon. He shuddered at the encampment, torches illuminating soldiers reveling in making fun of their prisoners, human and animal alike. It was all Owen could do to keep from charging down upon them with his sword.

“Why have we come here?” Rogers whispered.

Owen held a finger to his lips and looked skyward, whispering, “It's almost time.”

The trees fluttered as if some unseen storm were descending upon them. Owen raised his hands to his mouth and made a noise both scary and wonderful. Soon two large winged creatures landed. Rogers seemed scared of them until Owen introduced them as his friends Grandpa and Petunia.

“How did they know we were here?”

“They know me,” Owen said. “They are ready to serve us.”

Owen nuzzled Petunia and climbed onto Grandpa's back. Rogers clambered onto Petunia.

Owen leaned close to Grandpa and spoke into one of his huge ears, and they were off.

When out of sight of Dragon City, Grandpa changed direction and Petunia followed, flying away from the moon and everything familiar.

Talea, the girl inside the palace assigned to tend the Dragon's offspring, was young with stubby teeth and flaxen hair that had a mind of its own. Every day of her life had been difficult, and this duty proved no different. Tending to Drucilla's every demand for more wood or less wood was driving her crazy. The eggs were never the right temperature; wind made the room drafty, but the windows needed to be open so fresh air could feed the fire . . . and on and on it went.

Talea toiled so hard for her mistress because she believed she was saving her family. She had left her parents and her older brothers in the dungeon to work in the “nursery.”

Beyond reuniting with her family, Talea thought there was no hope for her.

No hope, that is, except for the impossible. No hope, unless it came from outside the palace. Talea believed that no one in the entire kingdom even knew about this dreary place. The shores of the black beach stretched for miles, and rocky crags rose around the palace and gave it the appearance of the very end of the earth.

During the heat of the day, Talea stood with the wooden shutters open, staring out at the endless water and the waves lapping the shore, wondering if this would be where she and her family would die. But something would spring up inside—a feeling that she couldn't describe, much like when her mother had snuggled close to her in the night, whispering tales of times when there had been music, hope for a better world, hope for a future not filled with darkness and dragons and pain. Hope was a whispered world too beautiful to describe, too wonderful to speak of—a future with the true King in control, where you were not imprisoned in some old castle, not ordered about by the only remaining female dragon (and reminded of it every day), and not commanded to care for the next generation bent on the slaughter of her people.

Talea could barely imagine true paradise any more than a person blind from birth can imagine a sunset. The closest she had come to knowing paradise was through the love of her family. There had been some haunting beauty to the life they shared that spoke of something greater, something just out of their grasp, something in the future that promised
more.

Drucilla broke Talea's train of thought with a shout.

The girl, gathering the chain by her blackened ankle, moved to the door and peeked into the hallway. “Yes, my lady?”

“Salve the eggs and put fresh logs on the fire,” Drucilla bellowed. “Then go to sleep.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Talea did not know where Drucilla came by such a substance, but it was clearly something dragons believed necessary for the proper nurturing of their young. She tried to breathe through her mouth so the smell wouldn't turn her stomach. This salve—“dragon grease,” as she called it—was rancid, like something dead or rotting. She applied it to the pulsating eggs, spreading it evenly over the veined shells. Of all the things Drucilla made her do, this was the most disgusting. But Talea was doing this for her family.

Talea looked away from the horrible eggs and spotted something in the shadows. In the corner a figure moved. She stopped and stared, chin quivering.

“Don't be frightened,” the figure said.