The Magic Wakes (2 page)

Keeta curled up at her feet, and Talia hoped that this time she could change the ending to her nightmare.

Death lurked in the shadows. Talia’s shaking fingers clenched into a fist.

Where’s the door to the library?

Her breath came in shallow bursts. She ran beneath the circles of light cast by the bulbs dangling from the ceiling. The dim glow reflected off the water filling the hall. Talia splashed through the underground tunnel.

I have to find it before I wake
. Talia ran her hands along the stone wall, bits of dirt and moss crumbling from her touch. There was no sign of the door.

The cold seeped through her blouse and she shivered. The ache in her chest felt real enough. Her confidence that this was the dream wavered, until the two men stumbled into view.

Long black robes hung heavy around their legs. The men paused in a circle of light while the fatter of the two gasped for breath. He leaned back, ready to collapse.

No, not yet
. Talia slapped the stone wall.

“I need more time,” she screamed down the corridor, but the men ignored her.

They always did.

Her mouth moved in sync with the man’s words. “It’s too late. They’re here.”

Three huge creatures walked out of the shadows. They moved in silence, barely disturbing the water with their smooth motion. Two legs, but definitely not human.

The creatures towered over the men by several feet. They had elongated faces traced with ridgelines, yellow-green eyes. The ridges accented a muscular thickness that lined the shoulders and moved up the neck. Their skin had a peculiar opalescent sheen, making it hard to decide the color in this weak lighting. She knew from other dreams that it was a deep green.

Talia had dubbed them Scalies during her childhood years. As an adult, they still evoked a hopeless dread deep within her soul.

Calm down.
The silent mantra did nothing for her nerves. She ached to run.

“You know there is no escape from the Dragumon,” a Scaly said in a low, smooth voice.

Talia stiffened.
Dragumon? Is that their name?

They had never spoken before. The deeply accented voice resonated to her core, but a grating harshness lay under the warm tones. Fighting the urge to run, she inched along the wall toward escape.

A Scaly pointed his staff-like pole at the two men and fired. The tunnel glowed red-orange, burning their deaths into her memory—fire and scorched bones. Their ashes floated past. How many times had she watched similar scenes?

“Now we will take care of our other problem.”

Talia’s head snapped up in time to see the red light rushing toward her. She gasped and flung her arms up to defend herself.

She was back in her own bed.

Stupid
. Flesh doesn’t block plasma weapons.

Talia stared at the ceiling and tried to catch her breath. Every muscle in her body tensed and cramped from the running. Her skin burned and she knew it was turning an angry red. She hoped she wouldn’t get blisters this time.

Keeta crawled up to the pillow beside her and whimpered.

“Sorry to wake you.” It came out a whisper.

Keeta wiggled his backside at the sound of her voice and moved in to lick Talia’s shoulder. Her arms and legs twitched as they relaxed. The feverish heat drained into the air, leaving only sticky cold perspiration. Then came the shivering she could never control.

Talia closed her eyes and waited for the shaking to stop, trying to concentrate on the little tongue licking the inside of her elbow. Sometimes Keeta’s saliva eased the ache of cuts and scrapes she received from the dream.

The nightmare had always been a part of her life. Although the locations and method of death changed, each dream took place within one city—Joharadin. She would never be free from the visions until the Scalies found her or she found them. She would keep searching for clues. This dream had brought a new piece of information she could record.

“Lights.” Talia flinched as the lights flared on. “Dim fifty percent.” The room automatically adjusted to the command.

The leather journal waited on the bedside table. It was cool in her hands as she hugged it close. She flipped through and glanced at the other dreams she had recorded. The last time in the tunnel she found a secret library. Unfortunately, the Scalies, no, the Dragumon, had found her before she could read any of the ancient texts on the shelves.

Talia turned to a new page. She wrote the day, time, and setting before writing:

Tonight they spoke. They called themselves the Dragumon. What’s more it seems they are aware of me. Perhaps searching for me? They think I’m a problem. One they won’t have any trouble disposing of.

She let Keeta crawl under the blanket to curl up next to her. His soft fur and rhythmic breathing continued to calm her while she tried to ignore how the sheet chaffed her tender skin.

“The sunsrise won’t come soon enough.”

Keeta sighed and fell asleep. Talia held him close and waited. He might calm her spirit, but only the energy from Sendek’s binary suns could heal her body.

Dressed in unrelieved black, Jaron moved from one shadow to the next as he walked down the line of indistinct buildings. Three moons glimmered above the deserted street, but the crowded skyline blocked their light. He reached a passage between two skyscrapers and slipped out of sight.

In the alley, Jaron brushed aside trash to uncover a manhole. “There it is, just where he said it would be.”

He checked his watch, scanned the entrance to the street, and waited by the hatch. At twenty minutes after the hour, the cover rotated and lifted away from the hole exposing an illuminated stairway leading under the street.

He slid into the opening, found his footing and climbed down, pausing long enough to watch the cover move back into place above him.

A man waited at the bottom of the stairs, also dressed in black. He looked a decade older than the skin Jaron wore as a disguise. His hard expression matched his military haircut.

“While we are underground you may address me as Ruin. Were you followed?”

“No. I followed every precaution you gave me.” Jaron licked his lips. The air tasted stale and smelled of mold.

Jaron noticed Ruin had a small red dragon embroidered on his shirt. A smile formed at the sight of it that Jaron masked by looking around.

They stood in a circular room cut out of the rock beneath the city streets. It spanned six or seven feet across, with one door carved into the wall opposite the stairs. The ceiling loomed thirty feet above at street level.

“What you are about to see is part of a seven-thousand-year vigil,” Ruin explained. “Few people know the true nature of our group; the penalty for betrayal is high. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Jaron murmured.

“The Elders are ready to start the meeting. As part of the group, you listen and keep your mouth shut. You are an entry-level member. In order to rise among the ranks you must prove your loyalty.”

“I understand.” Jaron lowered his head just enough to show his willingness to obey, but not enough to appear weak, a well-practiced movement.

The two men walked down a stone tunnel lit with lights that hung from the ceiling every five feet. Jaron stretched out his hand and fingered the cold smoothness of the walls. He could feel indentions in the stone left by the chisels used to carve the tunnel out of the rocky earth.

Ruin unlocked a large metal door and they stepped into an underground cave. The cavern they entered held hundreds of men and women standing side by side. Everyone faced a platform at the far end of the room, where five middle-aged men sat wearing long black robes embroidered with red dragons.

“Wait here. Werner, our, leader will speak soon.” Ruin weaved through the crowd toward the platform.

As soon as Ruin left him, Jaron pushed his way closer to the stage.

A large-bellied, gray-haired man rose from a chair on the platform. The room erupted into cheers. The man lifted one arm and the crowd fell silent.

“We are Signum! In ancient times, we gathered the wisdom needed to tame the mighty dragon. We waited for the chance to do the same with their spawn. For seven thousand years, we have waited patiently. Children of the Signum, the time has come!”

The crowd once again broke into cheers. Werner paused to lift his arms to quiet them.

Jaron pushed his way through the throng of sweaty bodies toward the front of the room. He could feel the heat rising off people as the mob mentality continued to build. People shifted their weight around, ready for action. Fists clenched and unclenched.

“The dragons may be gone, but their legacy has returned.” The room erupted in hissing, but Werner spoke over it. “With the communications technology we’ve stolen from the Royalists, we have made contact. We will use the Dragumon to move us to power, and then we will destroy them.”

By the time the cheering calmed enough for Werner to continue, Jaron had reached the platform.

“We will begin with a series of minor assaults to keep the Royalists busy. I need three volunteers.”

Jaron called out. “I volunteer!”

With this, others called out, until once again the room echoed with the impassioned voices of the Signum.

Jaron watched as Werner studied him. He wondered what rubric the man used to size him up. He stretched his mind and touched Werner’s.

The older man saw a twenty something, scruffy and disheveled man with tattoos peeking out of his shirt cuffs and collar. This image must have pleased Werner, because he reached down and took Jaron by the hand, inviting him onto the platform. Two other robed men also chose volunteers.

As Werner presented them to the crowd, Jaron noticed Ruin glaring at him from the side of the platform.

“Here are our champions! We begin at the University in Joharadin.”

As the crowd applauded and cheered, Jaron’s blood ran with the fire of anticipation. His plan was working beautifully.

The rays swirled and coalesced as she inhaled the flowing energy. Her lungs expanded as pure life flowed through her, healing the damage from the dream. The blisters disappeared and the aching muscles relaxed. Her soul expanded until her spirit pushed at the skin, reaching for freedom.

She exhaled.

The excess energy seeped into the surrounding wildlife as the glow of power faded into the normal light of day. The euphoria of the sunsrise faded with each step home. Small animals and birds drew near, touched her feet or shoulders and skittered away again. They knew this was goodbye.

You will come back,
the trees hummed.

Not this time. I’m going to Joharadin
. Talia pushed back memories of a childhood trip.

Dreams can change
.

This one never does
.

Stay then. We will protect you
.

Talia rested a palm against the trunk of a large tree. Energy pulsed from deep in the core, warming her hand. Power coursed between them like a heartbeat.

She spoke aloud, “They’ll come anyway. I have to fight for us.”

And she would. She didn’t know how, but she couldn’t leave her world in the hands of the Scalies or Dragumon. Or whatever they were called.

The trees sighed as she reached the door to her parents’ house. It was all she had left of them. Keeta clung to the vines growing up the side of the door, and launched himself toward Talia as soon as she was close enough to catch him. She carried him through the door.

“Computer, access tram schedule.” Talia called out while she sat Keeta on his favorite pillow to sleep.

“Destination required?” the automated voice asked.

“Joharadin, capital of Algodova.” Talia moved to the metabolizer and punched in an order for breakfast.

“Tram scheduled to depart Gneledar station at nine rising.”