The Candlestone (23 page)

The vision of Bonnie’s eyes pierced Billy’s own, and from her lips he heard what the professor had said not so long ago, “Nor can I lend you my faith.”

Billy laid his head on Bonnie’s journal and cried. Rage, hate, fear, loneliness, all dissolved into his tears and splashed onto the precious book. His body trembled, and lifting his head, he gasped for breath. “I . . . I don’t know how! Help . . . help me believe in you!” As his tears subsided, he turned his eyes upward.

Above the ceiling lay countless tons of earth and rock, unseen, yet waiting to fall on him and crush his body. He’d always imagined God as that crushing rock. But Bonnie had painted God with majestic words of love, more like the sun and sky—beautiful, limitless, and forever giving light and warmth.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, a few unbidden fiery sparks flying out. He tried to fashion a prayer in his mind, but all the thee’s and thou’s just wouldn’t come together. Would God even listen to a dragon boy? Did he really care as much as Bonnie thought he did?

Billy lifted his head, looking straight up with unblinking eyes. “I don’t have much faith,” he said softly. “Maybe you can lend me a little of yours.”

How will we know her?” Walter asked as the Jeep sped down the road through the heavily falling snowflakes.

The professor pulled his coat closed and zipped it up. “Karen told me she has red hair and that she would keep her hood down so we could see it. She also has three younger girls with her. They should be easy to spot.”

Mrs. Bannister pointed ahead. “That must be it.” She slowed the Jeep, careful to avoid sliding on the thin sheet of white, and parked behind another SUV just beyond the farmhouse driveway. A plowed drift blocked the entrance, preventing them from getting any closer to the house.

Walter jumped from the Jeep and hurdled the drift, while Mrs. Bannister helped the professor through the snow on his crutches. When Walter came within fifty feet of the doorstep, he spotted Karen on the wooden porch passing by a big barrel stuffed with firewood. Three smaller girls crowded close to the redhead, and a man walked beside her, gripping her shoulder and herding the girls toward the snow-covered road. Except for a rumbling tractor pulling a snowplow toward a distant barn, the place seemed deserted.

“Wait!” Walter called, holding up his hand and sprinting toward them.

The man stopped, tilting his head and squinting. Walter skidded to a stop.
Bonnie’s father!

Dr. Conner faced Walter, giving him an uneasy smile. “Well, if it isn’t Walter Foley! It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

Walter glowered at him. “Too small, I think.” He planted his hands on his hips and turned toward the redhead. “Are you Karen?”

Karen tightened her lips and nodded.

Dr. Conner pulled the girl closer. “And how could you possibly know Karen?”

Walter folded his arms across his chest. “Like you said, Dr. Conner. It’s a small world.”

Pounding his crutches through the snow, the professor drew within earshot, Mrs. Bannister at his side. “Unhand that girl!” he shouted.

Dr. Conner jerked his head toward the approaching adults, and his arm dropped from Karen’s shoulders and grasped her forearm. Walter leaned over and whispered to Karen, “Do you want to get away from him?” Her frightened eyes sparkled with welling tears, and she nodded ever so slightly.

The professor hobbled up beside Walter and grabbed Dr. Conner’s wrist. “I shall tell you one more time, sir, before I become perturbed. Unhand this girl.”

Dr. Conner jerked his arm away. “Why should I? This is my daughter!” He waved toward the other three shivering girls. “They’re all my daughters.”

Mrs. Bannister wiped snow off the shortest one’s head and knelt to rebutton her coat. “And they’re all freezing!”

Thick puffs of white billowed through the falling snow as the professor spoke. “Whether or not they are really your daughters, Dr. Conner, is immaterial to me. The eldest called me with an urgent message, and I believe you are the cause of her distress.”

“Ridiculous!” He pulled Karen’s hood up over her soaked hair. “They were out playing in the snow and went too far. I just found them, and I’m taking them home.”

The professor lifted his brow, his eyelids drooping just a shade. “Indeed! And you told us we could visit Bonnie anytime we wished. Your card, however, carried the address of some rather unsavory characters. They did not greet us well, so we decided to pay you a visit here to recommend that you correct your business cards, lest other visitors find the same rude greeting.” He gestured toward their Jeep. “Shall we drive to your home and complete our visit? I’m certain Bonnie will be glad to see us.”

Walter loved the professor’s smooth sarcasm. It was biting, yet sprinkled with gentlemanly charm. He knew there was no way Dr. Conner could refuse.

Dr. Conner put his hands on his hips, and he nodded, letting out a long sigh. “Okay, okay.”

Mrs. Bannister hurried toward the Jeep. “I’ll drive as close as I can and pick everyone up.”

The professor smiled down at the trembling redhead. “Karen, I am at your service. You may speak freely.” He gestured with his head toward Dr. Conner. “You need not fear this man. I assure you that I will keep you from harm.”

Karen cast a doubtful eye at the professor’s crutches and smiled uneasily.

Dr. Conner’s voice shook with anger. “How dare you talk to my daughter that way? I’m her protector; not you, old man!” He grabbed Karen’s hand. “Forget what I said. They’re coming with me, and you can just—”

“Dr. Conner!” The professor interrupted, his eyes blazing. “I suggest you reconsider.” Mrs. Bannister pulled the Jeep up close, and the professor turned to Walter. “Walter, please fetch the flower box.”

Walter grinned. “Sure, Prof!” He hustled back to the Jeep.

The professor shifted on his crutches and faced Dr. Conner. “A father certainly has protection rights, as you suggest. All rights, however, are forfeited if a child is abused.”

“Abused?” Dr. Conner replied, his voice rising again. “I’ve never abused her, and she knows it!”

Walter returned, carrying the flower box, and the professor handed one of his crutches to him. While leaning on the other crutch, the professor opened the box and withdrew Excalibur. At the moment he touched the hilt, the great sword began to glow. The professor dropped the other crutch and steadied himself on his good leg, holding Excalibur in ready stance with both hands. Dr. Conner took a step backward, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Now,” the professor said softly as the sword glowed brighter and brighter, “I will ask her myself.” He lowered his gaze to meet Karen’s and spoke tenderly. “Young lady, what is troubling you, and why did you call me? Do you wish to be free from this man?”

She jumped over to the professor’s side and grabbed him around the waist, shivering and crying. Dr. Conner stepped toward them, but the professor raised the sword higher. “I suggest you halt.”

Dr. Conner stopped. Excalibur’s spectacular glow reflected in the scared doctor’s eyes, and his legs shook like two autumn leaves.

The professor continued. “It seems that the maiden has spoken quite clearly, even in silence. So now, if you will acquiesce, sir, and do what I ask, I will put the sword away.”

Dr. Conner spun around and ran, slipping once and stopping his fall with his hands on the ground. With both legs churning, he dashed toward his SUV.

Mrs. Bannister hopped from behind the wheel and ushered the three younger girls toward the Jeep. Walter grabbed the professor’s crutch from the ground. “He’s getting away!” He tossed both crutches into the rear of the Jeep and hustled back to help the professor. He and Karen supported him to the front seat and then squeezed in the back with the three girls.

Karen parked herself behind the driver. “I know the way. Just stay on this road for a few minutes. I’ll let you know when to turn.” After a couple of miles of slipping and sliding, Karen pointed to the right. “Up that path. We’d better hurry. Doc may have gone in the back way.”

Mrs. Bannister stepped on the gas, and the Jeep managed the first part of the slope with no problem. “I hope we can make it up these snowy slopes.”

“No problem,” Karen said confidently. “This Jeep has Quadra-Drive. I saw a Grand Marquis make it to the top, so I’m sure we can.”

“What will happen if he gets there before we do?” Mrs. Bannister asked.

Karen pulled her hood down and leaned forward, her teeth chattering. “Billy sneaked into the lab to try to find Bonnie. I don’t know what Ashley would do, but if Doc catches him, there’s sure to be trouble.”

“Ashley?” Mrs. Bannister repeated. “Who’s Ashley?”

“Doc’s lab assistant. Doc calls her that, anyway, but she really runs the place.”

Walter shifted to the edge of his seat. “How did Billy escape from that creep, Palin?”

Karen sighed and leaned back. “You’ll find out.”

When they reached the mountaintop, she said, “Turn left here.” She pointed to an arch of rocks. “That’s the lab entrance, but it’s a long way down a bunch of stairs and then through an even longer tunnel. I’ll show you the way, but the other girls shouldn’t go. They’re real tired.”

The professor touched Mrs. Bannister’s arm. “Marilyn, I assure you that Walter and I can handle this. We will find your son and restore him to you. Do you mind staying? The young ladies will be quite warm in here.”

As she drove into the makeshift driveway, Mrs. Bannister took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll—”

“What’s that?” Walter cried out, pointing up ahead.

Karen shook her head sadly. “It’s a burned-out Mercury Grand Marquis. Palin had Billy in the trunk with a bunch of gas cans. Billy set it on fire.”

“And what happened to Palin?” the professor asked.

“He went up in flames. He’s dead.”

The professor’s face turned white. He leaned over the seat, speaking earnestly. “Tell me, did you see it? Did William intentionally kill the man?”

Karen nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty scary. We girls all ran away.”

The professor clutched the dashboard and his voice rose. “But was it in face-to-face combat?”

Karen shrank back against the upholstery. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Not really. Billy had already escaped from the trunk, and we could’ve all sneaked into the woods. The guy’s back was turned.” Karen paused. “But the guy deserved it, right? Wouldn’t he have killed Billy if he had the chance?”

“Oh, no doubt. That foul skunk would likely have killed all of you if he thought it would help him achieve his goals.” His voice calmed, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Yes, he deserved to die, but the issue is not one of justification; it is a matter of valor, the code of a knight, of facing an enemy head-on rather than sneaking up on his unguarded flank. It’s also a matter of obeying a command, of heeding prophecy.”

The professor placed a trembling hand on Merlin’s Diary situated on a box between him and the driver’s seat. As the Jeep came to a stop next to the blackened car, the professor pulled the book onto his lap. He kept his face forward while he spoke. “Marilyn, Walter, we must call for help.”

“Call who?” Mrs. Bannister asked. “The police? Walter’s Dad?”

“No.” He opened the diary to the prayer on the first page. “I have the translation here on a card. Please grant me silence as I read.”

The little girls straightened in their seats, and Karen put her arm around Monique, snuggling her close. Walter propped his wrist against the headrest in front of him and held his breath. In a clear voice, the professor read the prayer, speaking the last four lines with a great flourish.

God, my lord, do send my plea

To dragons’ ears both far and nigh

Send me help I ask on knee

Transluminate me lest I die

When the professor fell silent again, Walter pulled on the back of his teacher’s seat. “What’s wrong, Prof? Why did you call for a dragon?”

The professor ran his palm over the rough parchment. “It’s part of what I could not reveal to you earlier, Walter. A conditional prophecy has been fulfilled, and it seems that we will soon see a veritable eruption of crises, too many for us to handle alone.”

“But can Clefspeare possibly get here in time to help?”

The professor sighed, a faraway look taking over his expression. “I don’t know, Walter. I just don’t know. I merely followed the prophecy’s suggestion.” He turned a couple of pages and placed a firm finger on the top line of text. “Here. I can read this one to you now. I have been given leave to reveal prophecies already set in motion.” The professor cleared his throat.

The child of doubt, still chained, still torn

Must choose his fateful path;

To take revenge and valor scorn,

Or quell his heart of wrath?

And should he choose the wanton way,

Appeasing vengeance due,

He sets the course for Judgment Day

And brings the end in view.

Yet hope remains, a dragon’s aid

May come to quench the fire.

A fervent summons rightly prayed

Will call them to the squire.

But make no haste to quote the prayer

For dragons here to fly,

For if the child acquits the slayer

The dragons called shall die.

“That one’s not too hard to figure out,” Walter said. “I think I liked it better when it was confusing.”

“What is that book?” Karen asked, her bobbing head leaning forward. “It sounds scary, like something real bad’s going to happen.”

“It is a very special diary,” the professor replied, “an old, prophetic book. Its author uses a simple rhyme and meter scheme, but his prophecies are deep and mysterious. And, yes, I would say that the coming of Judgment Day is something about which we might all be alarmed. I don’t think he’s speaking of a literal end-of-the-world scenario, but even with poetic license, I’m sure it could be very bad, indeed.”

Mrs. Bannister took a deep breath and regripped the steering wheel. “Well, you’d better get going. There’s no telling if Billy’s in trouble or not.”