Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (A Reemergence Novel) (15 page)

The mote danced near Tesser's chest, as if proximity would assure veracity. "You tell the truth. I am sorry for my interrogation, friend. Ever since Kaula…"

Tesser leaned forward, almost letting go of Abe's and Mr. Doyle's hands. The two mages gripped the golden-eyed man's fingers strongly, and he tilted back. "What of Kaula? Where has she gone?"

"She searched this world from pole to pole for a hundred years when you disappeared. Even
her
magic failed to find you. She hasn't been the same since. Distraught, depressed. Reckless at times even," the blue said.

"What. Of. Kaula?" The unmistakable sound of anger had crept into Tesser's voice.

"Always so short tempered. You were the hottest of our kind."

"Zeud is the
hottest
of our kind. Yet she is calm, where I am anger. What of Kaula, Kiarohn? I'm begging you." The anger had given way to sadness.

"A decade past, she was in Asia. That was her region of the world. Since your slumber, we've divided it. Seven continents, seven stewards. A simple plan, though North America was left orphaned in your wake. Then one day, with nary a spell cast or shout issued forth, she simply disappeared. Try as we might, the seven became five. And ever since, what she brought to the world has faded away. But that you've already experienced, I'll wager."

"Kiarohn, you're not the wagering type."

"So true, my friend. That has not changed since you've been away. Where are you?"

"Boston. I awoke under the ground and fell into a subway tunnel where I stretched my muscles. It has been a challenging adjustment. This world is nearly alien to me."

The two mages were wide-eyed with the conversation.
 
Neither had experienced anything quite like it.

"I can only imagine. The world has changed much since your disappearance. We fear the world will change far faster, and for the worse, without Kaula's essence." The blue color darkened, sad.

"Has Ambryn...?"

"No. He has not died." The color said confidently.

Tesser's head drooped in slight relief, matching the color's change, "How long was I asleep?"

The mote of energy moved up and spun in rapid circles, thinking. "I do not recall the exact number of years, Tesser, but I would guess it at around twenty thousand trips around the sun."

"No," Mr. Doyle blurted. "That doesn't add up at all."

The blue stream of color twisted, suddenly aware of the presence of the elder wizard. It drifted accusatorially between Tesser and the British man, its colors flickering in intensity rapidly. "Who is this? Has he been here all along?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Kia. Meet Mr. Doyle. He has been very helpful to me. This conversation is occurring due only to his and his apprentice's assistance. I owe them a debt of gratitude."

The storm blue color lightened steadily to the color of clear sky. "I thank you then, Mr. Doyle. And you are most correct in your statement. That does not add up."

"What does he mean?" Tesser asked no one in particular.

The Brit ex-pat answered, "You said you remember castles and fire. Kings and the wheel. The wheel was invented seven, or perhaps eight, thousand years ago. You speak of a history that doesn’t exist. Humans were not where you say they were twenty thousand years ago."

The color spoke, "Mr. Doyle, humans are only aware of the history we want them to remember. In Tesser's absence, we have had to take drastic measures to steer the course of humanity. Ultimately, we were unable to do what we wanted and had to.... start you over. It is his task, and his art,
not ours
, to manipulate life on Earth."

Abe was the one who asked the ultimate question, making the boldest statement. "Alright fuck this. What are you? Kiarohn, Kaula, Tesser, Ambryn, Zeud? Coleco? Atari? Five names of the seven, that much I get. Each tied to the Origination Stones right? The only thing older than you?"

"You speak these words like you know them, young one," Kiarohn shot back.

"I'm pretty much making it up as I go here," Abe shot back honestly.

"Well, young mage, if Tesser hasn't told you, perhaps I should not either."

Abe pleaded, "Tesser come on. This just-the-tip bullshit is killing me. I've been waiting my whole life to see something amazing, and here I am, on that threshold. I want to see spells. I want to see gnomes, and ghosts, and magic,
real magic
. I want to tell my grandchildren that I had tea with a troll and watched a giant fell a tree so he had something to pick his teeth with. I want to tell them I snuck into a dragon's lair and stole his treasure. I want to
live
, Tesser. I'm sick of being an accountant that dabbles in wonder part-time. And I
know
you can show me what I want. I can feel it deep inside me, and you can give me my dream right here and right now."

Hm. Well, if only for the speech.

"I do not know if there are any gnome hills left to take you to, Abe. I am sure with some searching we can find a trapped soul somewhere, and then you can see your ghost. Here we sit, practicing real magic. Trolls? I haven't seen a troll since I slept, and they are wondrous creatures, though the sunlight hates them so. And should we find a giant, you'll find they are not nearly as large as you'd hoped. A tree would be more cane sized for a proper-sized titan, though an angry one would pick your flesh from his teeth using your bones."

Abe's eyes were alight. Mr. Doyle's as well.

"And as for stealing a dragon's treasure…"

Both men held their breath.

"I have no treasure for you to take. But one day, I shall breathe fire and you shall see me for what I am.

I am Tesser. And I am Dragon."

Chapter Nineteen

Sergeant Henry "Spoon" Spooner

Spoon looked down into his whiskey tumbler. It was empty again.

That makes me angry.

Spooner sat in a bar near the north end. He'd gorged on oysters, called a fellow cop buddy of his, and started drowning his concerns in watered-down whiskey. The bartender knew him, and as it was the afternoon, and as the bar was mostly empty, there was no reason not to simply hand Spoon the entire bottle.

It could wind up being a mistake.

Fuck, Bobby, where are you?

As Henry was expressing his turmoil in his mind to no one in particular, his friend Bobby came into the bar. Bobby served with Spoon in Afghanistan. Both men had been in different units but assigned to the same FOB for a stretch and they were still close. They'd shared more than one bottle of Scope that had been dumped out and filled with dyed vodka. Bobby was tall and thick, like a linebacker for the Patriots, and had long hair and a rough beard. He worked for the narcotics division of the Massachusetts State Police, and frequently worked undercover. He had to drive a couple hours to meet Spoon that day. Bobby Haleman was one of the only people Spoon trusted completely.

"Spooney, brother," Bobby said in his gruff, thick voice.
 

"Shit, Bobby, all those Parliaments are crushing your voice. You sound like a Broadway two-pack-a-day whore," Spoon said as the two men gripped hands in a rugged handshake.

"Hey, it's nice to see you too. You got cum on your face."

Spoon shrugged. "Hey, it happens. Thanks for making the trip. I got us a bottle."

Bobby nodded and waved to the bartender. "Glass, please." A few seconds later a tumbler identical to Spoon's slid down the counter and Bobby scooped it up gracefully. The bar was covered in cigarette smoke stained photos of familiar Boston entertainers and athletes. Larry Bird, Bobby Orr, Paul Pierce, Red Auerbach, Bob Cousy, Robert Parish, Carl Yastrzemski, Ted Williams, Aerosmith, and a hundred more. There was a history of the city here, right down to the nicotine and booze ingrained into the walls, and Spoon liked it. It felt comfortable, like a worn-in recliner.

The two men made their way back to the tired booth that Spoon had claimed. The shorter ex-paratrooper slid into the booth easily, but the massive Bobby had to suck in his belly to squeeze in.

"Bobby, I forget how big an ape you are. Christ man, what do you eat to stay that large?"

"Just ate ten bananas and a blonde on the way here. Feed me a few drinks and the pain of this table in my spleen will go away." Bobby pushed the glass towards Spoon, and Spoon filled it. Bobby took a mouthful and winced from the burn. "God, that's horrible. Like piss and diesel. Thanks for nothing. Hey, congrats on making Detective Sergeant. You deserve it. Good man, good cop."

"Yeah, well, the papers aren't in yet, just all the extra work. Easy way for them to get me to do the job without adding what I'm owed into my paycheck." Spoon took a mouthful of the whiskey and let it slide down his throat. It burned, but it was a cleansing fire.

"Ha. City job, state job, they fuck you somehow. Either way man, good on you. You'll get what's coming to you. What brings me out here? You need help on a case?

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I uh… I don't even know where to start on this, and I know you're not going to believe me. But you gotta gimme the benefit of the doubt on this?"

Bobby drained his glass with a wince and a cough and pushed it forward again. Spoon filled it. "You got it."

"Okay, so I was assigned the attempted rape near that new nightclub right outside Chinatown, right?" Spoon started.

"The one with the naked dude that came to the rescue?" Bobby asked, wrapping baseball glove sized hands around the tiny glass.

"That's the one. So, I get a tip that leads me to the dude, the naked dude, and I track him down to a Back Bay pizzeria, where he's working as a late-night bouncer for the drunks. He's got clothes by this point. So, he and I sit down for a chat. He's foreign, got an accent I still can't place, and I immediately get the feeling from this dude that he's on a different level, if you know what I mean…"

"Like Stephen Hawking, ‘on a different level?' Mila Kunis ‘on a different level?"'

Spoon laughed. "No. Remember when the Special Ops guys would come through the base? Or when we'd deploy with them? You know how some of them just… exuded that air of 'I wipe my ass with the enemy?' That subtle arrogance? A healthy cockiness that only comes with being through the fire? The good kind of cocky?"

"Yeah, like a fifth-degree black belt. I think I know what you're saying."

"Yeah, so this guy is like dripping with badassery, but he's soft-spoken, and patient, with a good sense of humor, and I know that he's going to be snapping drunk college kids’ collar bones within a month at this pizza shop, and I just get that fucking itch that there's something deeper going on with him."

"Like Russian mafia shit?" Bobby sipped the whiskey.

Spoon took a gulp. "At the time, I dunno, maybe. Sure. Something. So get this. I decide I'm gonna keep an eye on this dude; his name's Tesser, by the way. No last name. I forgot to say that. I get my ass a magazine, a smoothie, and I sit on a bench down the way, watching the pizza shop for a few days. One evening, Tesser, still wearing clothes, is out reading a high school textbook on the sidewalk. Then, he gets this 'I just smelled some shit' look on his face, does a 180°, makes eye contact with this kid that had been standing on the opposite sidewalk fifty feet away, and the kid squirts, running for his fucking life."

"Nice! Is that your second perp from the attempted rape?" Bobby was getting into the story.

"No, he didn't match the description. But, seeing as how I love to protect and serve, I set my six-dollar smoothie down and run after them. The kid is running for his life, okay?
For his life
. Horror movie style. And Tesser is like jogging in the fucking park, running this kid down like it ain't no thang."

"Nice. Should have this Tesser guy put in an application to be a trooper." Bobby gulped some whiskey down and poured another finger's worth.

"Yeah, fuck that. Listen to this. So the kid turns into an alley and Tesser follows. When I get to the damn alley, I lean around the corner for cover, and the Tesser guy is saying something like, 'Cast the damn spell, dude!' Right?"

"Cast the spell? Like World of Warcraft? They role-playing or something? Live-action Skyrim? You doing a stakeout on a bunch of basement-dwelling neck-beard gamers?" Bobby taunted his friend.

Fuck you, pal. Chew on this.

"And then the kid does this like Gandalf thing with his hands and says something, I think in Latin, and all the shit in the alley starts flying around like the end of fucking ‘Ghostbusters’ or in that movie ‘Poltergeist’. Or ‘Twister’! Yeah, ‘Twister’! I shit you not, Bobby. My hair was standing on end, and I think I might've pissed myself. That fucking kid used magic in that alley, and Tesser
knew it
. Knew he could do it. Asked him to do it."

"The kid have an accent?" Bobby asked.

"No. He sounded local."

"How much whiskey have you drank today?" Bobby said flatly, unsure of what to think.

"Not nearly enough, Bobby. I'm telling you. Right after that happens, I realize somehow during it all I drew my service weapon, which I don't remember doing, by the way, and it was everything I could do to run away as fast as I could. I have never been more scared. More… More disrupted by anything I've ever seen. I still ain't right. What burns my ass is I don’t know why I'm so fucking on edge about it. I seen a lot, brother, you too, and this is nothing compared to some of that shit. But Bobby, I felt something watching those two. Remember when the towers came down? That sinking pit of your stomach clench? That realization that something has changed? That the world will never bt the same again? It felt like that."