The Dragon Egg Saga. Stephen Lindsay J.

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СКАЧАТЬ whistles a sharp breath from between clenched teeth. Minor skirmishes with small packs of Bludden is one thing. They could probably survived most of those on nerve, guts, and luck. But in that building, Mayowen knows, is something altogether more terrible than any of them has faced before.

       They’re entering as one, he thinks. Now let us hope that they fight as one as well.

      Underwear And Other Essentials

      Karl grips Clay’s shoulder just before the boy is about to duck into the broken out frame of the Wal-Mart entrance. He turns, his green eyes barely visible within the darkness of his hood.

      “Dude, what? We’re supposed to go in there, right? I mean, isn’t that, like, the end-game of this whole exercise?”

      Karl takes a deep breath. “Yeah, but something feels… off.”

      Clay shifts his gaze from Melissa to Karl and back again. “So now you’re getting some kind of ESP or something? I thought Melissa was the only one of us sensitive to—”

      “It’s not like that.” Karl runs his fingers up the stubble on the side of his face. “It’s more of a—a gut feeling. Look, I just think we need to be careful, that’s all.”

      Melissa raises her eyebrows as she looks at Karl.

      “Don’t give me that look. What? I’m not allowed to be careful every now and again?”

      Melissa smiles in spite of herself. “No, no. Trust me, I welcome it.”

      She flexes the fingers of her left hand and turns her wrist over. As she des, a small blue and white flame appears, hovering just above her palm. “Shall I lead the way?”

      Clay and Karl step aside letting Melissa lead the way. She is dressed in a dark blue pea coat, jeans, and motorcycle boots, and she barely stands 5 feet 3 inches tall. The blue flame she holds out in front of her casts a soft glow as she enters the darkened building. The light extends out around her for about five feet, but the surrounding darkness feels threatening – almost alive. What the darkness doesn’t feel is empty, and that increases her unease.

      She raises the small flame to her lips and half whispers, half blows into it.

      “Lucidus.”

      At the touch of her breath, the flame grows to twice its original size, now somewhere between the size of a softball and a basketball. The blue tint it first carried is now gone, replaced, instead, with more of that dazzling white. The soft glow surrounding her becomes sharp and wide. The darkness retreats, relegated to far corners and shadows. ow she can see far into the store.

      She turns to motion for Karl and Clay to come in, but they are already there, standing right behind her.

      “Neat trick,” says Clay.

      “Yeah, remind me to bring you the next time I go spelunking.” Karl surveys the visible areas of the store as he speaks, the visible worry on his face betraying the sarcasm in his voice. “As long as we stay on your hip, we’ll be able to navigate around.”

      Melissa closes her fingers around the flame, winds up like a pitcher, and throws it out toward the middle of the store.

      “Ortus!” she calls as she releases the flame. It flies into the center of the store, rising toward the ceiling as it goes. When it reaches a point roughly one foot from the ceiling, it stops and hovers there.

      Melissa brushes her hands together, a look of pride illuminating her face. “There. Now we should all be able to see no matter where we go. But we need to make it quick. The light will only last about 10 minutes. 15, tops.”

      Clay slips one of the daggers out of its sheath and spins it absent-mindedly around his hand. “Someone mind telling me why, after all this talk of working as a team, we’re gonna split up?”

      Karl, sword held out in front of him, is already making his way up the aisle toward the Men’s Clothing department. “To look for essentials, of course.”

      Clay looks over at Melissa as if to say, There he goes again. Aren’t you gonna stop him? But she doesn’t. She shrugs and starts moving down the aisle to her right, past the row of checkout lanes and empty soda coolers.

      “Just stay within ear-shot. Move slow, keep your eyes peeled, and see if you can find anything useful.”

      Clay tries to swallow, but it sticks like a lump in his throat. “M-Maybe I should a go with you?”

      Melissa shrugs, but keeps walking, not bothering to turn around. “Whatever. If you’d rather tag along while I look for tampons, be my guest.”

      Clay feels his cheeks flush with color. No, he doesn’t think he’d rather go searching for… those things, thank you very much. He turns to his left and can still make out the outline of Karl as he steps into the jumbled mess that was once the Men’s Department. He unknowingly spins the dagger over his hand again, and then takes off after Karl at a quick jog.

      Karl looks at the tangled mess of overturned racks and piles of clothing that once made up the Men’s Department. It looks like a herd of elephants has trampled through it, realized they went the wrong way, turned around and tramped back.. A bunch of Dale Earnhardt hats are scattered atop a jumble of dark green, gray, and maroon sweatpants. About a dozen t-shirts, each proclaiming “If I Cared, I Wouldn’t Be Ignoring You” hang haphazardly from a broken and leaning rack. Ain’t that the truth?, Karl thinks.

      He is in the midst of stepping over a pile of $10 carpenter jeans (recently rolled back from $11.99 according to the sign lying next to them) when he freezes. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his ears strain trying to figure out what it was they’d just heard. He grips his sword, takes a breath in through his nose, and spins around, ready to face whatever monstrosity might be trying to catch him unaware.

      Standing there, dagger in hand, is Clay. “What?! What is it?!” Clay whips his head from side to side, expecting to see a massive Bludden, or a squat, sore covered Callip. But there is nothing.

      Karl’s shoulders dropand he exhales hard. “Fuck, kid. You trying to get your head cut off, give me a heart attack, or both? You have no idea how quiet you are, do you?”

      Clay shrugs, the faintest hint of a smile dancing across his face. He knows that his uncanny ability to move without sound is the reason Mayowen has chosen him. He hold onto it as a source of pride. “I guess not. Sorry.”

      “Yeah, well, neither one of us ended up dead, so I guess it’s no harm, no foul.” Karl turns and continues walking through the maze of overturned racks. Clay hangs back for a second longer, using the moment to steal another glance around, and then follows.

      “So, I kinda already know what essentials Melissa is lookin’ for. But, um, what about you?” Clay squats down and picks up one of the Dale Earnhardt hats. It is red, black and white with the man’s signature scrawled across the italicized number 3 on the front. “You jonzing for some NASCAR gear or somethin’?”

      Karl looks back over his shoulder at Clay. “Not exactly. Although I have to admit I did enjoy watching a race or two on a lazy Sunday afternoon. A good race, some chips, a bowl of fresh, hot salsa, and a cold beer made for one helluva day. But I never much saw СКАЧАТЬ