The Dragon King Read online

  “Precisely two thirty-five a.m., twentieth of October,” Officer Carl announced.

  “Two thirty-five on October the twentieth,” Officer Ed repeated.

  Kay resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark and said, “Look, officers, my dad’s not missing, he’s just booked solid.” Which was sort of true, right? Since he was frozen in rock and sitting in the middle of the yard back at Tintagel?

  Just then, Artie appeared at Kay’s side. He took the door from her and opened it wide. “Hey, Kay. Everything all right?”

  “You Arthur?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Your dad around?”

  “Uh, no. He had to go to Cincinnati for a funeral. Terrible. Best friend from college just dropped dead. Brain aneurism, I think.”

  Officer Carl shuddered. “Ugh. My uncle died of one of those. Nothing you can do.”

  “That’s what Kynder said.” Kay shook her head sadly.

  Officer Carl took a step back. He seemed to be coming around.

  Officer Ed, however, looked unconvinced. “Miss Kingfisher, does the name Erik Erikssen mean anything to you?”

  Kay paused. This was not good. “Kind of. He’s some twerp I go to school with.” Merlin was supposed to take care of this!

  “That’s right. He’s also been missing since October the fourth. His family is worried sick.”

  “He’s in my class,” Artie said. “I was wondering where he went.”

  Kay shot Artie an unbelieving look. When did he become a world-class liar? “You were?” she asked.

  “Sure I was.” Artie took a step toward the cops and tilted his head toward Kay. “She doesn’t pay any attention to Erik because, you know, he has a crush on her.”

  Man, he’s good, Kay thought.

  “Ah, I remember what that was like.” Ed gave Carl a look and shrugged. “Listen, kids, we’re going to call the gas company and have them come out tomorrow. And we’d like to talk to Mr. Kingfisher when he becomes available.” He held out a business card. “Please, have your father call us. You got a nice place here, in a nice neighborhood. I can’t imagine your dad would like a visit from Child Services. This kind of truancy is a big deal, miss. Get back to school, understood?”

  “Understood! Thanks!” Then she stepped back and shut the door.

  She and Artie stared at each other for several moments in silence. They heard the police talking but couldn’t make out their words. Artie cupped a hand over the peephole, held it there for a few seconds, and then looked through it. Erik came into the hall. “Who was th—”

  Without turning from the door Artie held up a finger and cut him off.

  Several more moments passed. Finally, Artie turned from the door, a concerned look on his face. “They’re gone.”

  “Well, who was it?” Erik whispered. “I heard you talking about me.”

  Bedevere and Qwon were framed in the weak light at the end of the hallway, equally curious. Dred was in the living room peeking through a crack in the drapes.

  Kay stepped forward. “It was the cops, Erik. They know we’ve been missing. Everyone does.”

  The lights of the squad car shifted through the windows as it turned around and drove off.

  “What?” Erik asked.

  Artie nodded. “They know Kynder’s not around too.”

  “Those magical letters Merlin wrote aren’t working,” Kay said.

  “Or never did,” Artie said ominously.

  Erik turned a tight circle. “Oh, man. I am so dead. I could get grounded for . . . forever!”

  Kay nodded. “Seriously. Sorry.”

  Artie rubbed his hand over his mouth. He was preoccupied with Merlin. “Or he made it so the letters stopped working.”

  “Ugh . . . my parents . . . school . . . ,” Erik sputtered.

  “Erik, get a grip. We’ve been through a lot worse,” Qwon said.

  “True,” Erik managed.

  Kay squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Once you show up, your folks will be so psyched they’ll forget all about how you went missing.”

  “But what’ll I tell them?”

  “We’ll worry about that later,” Artie said. “Let’s deal with that poor thing Merlin sent us.” He pointed at the dead creature. “While we’re working, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  8

  HOW QWON AND PAMMY CRY TEARS OF JOY . . . ALL RIGHT, AND HOW ARTIE AND KAY DO, TOO

  The Kingfisher house was a wreck. The sabertooth/rhino must have been there for at least a few days. It had commandeered the living room for a bedroom and Kynder’s bed for a litter box, and had completely destroyed the dining room. If they hadn’t shown up when they did, it might have destroyed the whole inside of the house.

  Still, it did yield a clue. Strung around its neck was a tight cord, and on this cord was a gold disc the size of a half dollar. One side was smooth and blank. The other had an inscription. It read, Dim mwy o gemau.

  “What is that gobbledygook?” Qwon asked when Artie read it out loud.

  “Welsh,” he answered.

  “It means, ‘No more games,’” Dred continued.

  “That’s right,” Artie confirmed.

  “Since when do you speak Welsh, Artie?” Qwon asked. “Dred I get. He grew up with that crazy witch. But you . . . you barely passed English last year!”

  Artie winked. “Excalibur taught me. Kingly perk.”

  Qwon whistled. “I’ll say.”

  “What do you think it means?” Erik asked.

  Artie shrugged. “I guess it means we’re in this mess for real, Erik.”

  Kay huffed. “As if that weren’t, like, painfully obvious.”

  “You can say that again,” Bedevere said, leaning on the bulk of the slain animal.

  “All right, listen. You three”—Artie pointed at Bedevere, Erik, and Dred—“why don’t you go back to Tintagel and sleep there. I’m sorry, Erik, but I have to ask you to stay in Avalon for now. If you went home, you could get wrapped up in family, plus we have no good explanation for where you’ve been. You’re too important. We need you. I need you.”

  Erik shuffled his feet and ran a hand through his close-cropped blond hair. “All right.”

  “Good. The three of us will stay here and take Qwon home first thing in the morning. When we get back, we’ll talk about visiting your house, Dred—which is probably going to be a ton of fun.”

  They laughed uneasily but agreed to the plan. Bedevere used his superstrong arm to drag the animal out back and shove it through the gate to Tintagel, where Bercilak would get to work with his ax and a bonfire; meanwhile, the others cleaned the kitchen as best as they could. It was a bloody and unfulfilling task, but they did it.

  Just before sunup everyone but Artie, Kay, and Qwon crossed back to the Otherworld. Artie went out to the driveway to Lance’s cab—which had been loitering there since their disappearance—and grabbed Lance’s spare bow. He stashed this, along with Excalibur, Cleomede, and Kusanagi, in the back of the cabinet where they hid their Mountain Dew and then sat down to a quick breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios with Kay and Qwon. When they were finished, Artie turned to Qwon. “Ready to go see your mom?”

  “Heck yeah.”

  As the sun was rising, Artie, Kay, and Qwon stole into the backyard, completely unarmed. They grabbed three bikes from the shed and went to the back gate. Artie cracked it open and peeked into the alley. No police, no garbage trucks. Just the old, familiar alley.

  He pushed his Schwinn onto the pavement and got on. “Lead the way, Q,” he said with a smile.

  Qwon took off. Artie had forgotten how fast Qwon liked to ride. They zipped down the alleyway, leaves twirling in their wake. Qwon slammed the brakes and skidded onto the sidewalk, putting a foot down and pivoting. Then she stood on the pedals and turned them as fast as she could.

  Artie kept up as Kay’s competitive spirit took over. She pedaled like a crazy person and surged in front of Qwon, laughing the whole way. The nippy morning air fille
d their lungs. Artie stood too and jogged his bike back and forth with his hands—tilting it left, right, left, right—with every pedal stroke.

  Sunlight broke over the treetops as they rounded the corner of Qwon’s street. Artie’s face hurt, he was smiling so hard. This was freedom. This was what he was supposed to be doing. This was where he belonged.

  It was plain that Kay and Qwon felt the same way. Qwon had been kidnapped and imprisoned and basically pressed into Artie’s makeshift army. They had all been pressed. Artie watched as the girls rode down a cut in the curb, Qwon following on Kay’s wheel, into the empty street. They slalomed back and forth in wide arcs past one another. Artie kept to the sidewalk, blasting through piles of leaves and taking little jumps off the crooked, root-raised sections of pavement.

  As they got closer to Qwon’s house, Kay eased up and let Qwon get in front. Qwon turned wide out of the street and launched up her driveway before clamping the brakes. She let the bike slide out from under her and clatter onto its side as she vaulted forward and ran to her home. Kay and Artie screeched to a halt and watched. Qwon picked up speed as she sprinted to her door, but before she got there it swung inward, and Pammy Onakea stood on the threshold, her arms outstretched, her eyes glossy and bright.

  Artie and Kay had never seen a more intense hug. Not in movies or video games or the school yard or even in their dreams. Qwon and Pammy embraced for a whole two or three minutes before speaking. As they pulled apart, Artie realized that he was crying too.

  Kay leaned into Artie’s shoulder and said, “I miss Kynder so bad, Art.”

  Artie looked at his sister. They didn’t need words. He put an arm around her and pulled her tight.

  They watched silently for a few more moments before Pammy held out her arms and said, “Come here, you two!”

  Artie and Kay rushed over, and the four of them wrapped together in a huge, tight hug.

  When they were done, Pammy asked, “Kay, what did you do to your hair?”

  Kay ran a hand through her short locks. “Do you like it? It was either my hair or my head, so . . .”

  “Ah, good choice,” Pammy said uneasily. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  They followed Pammy to the kitchen, where she poured them full glasses of orange juice and started cooking. “Have the police been coming around here too?” Artie asked as bacon sizzled in the pan.

  “Not too much.” She looked at Qwon. “I told school that your dad’s favorite uncle died in Hawaii and that you had to go there with him.” Qwon’s parents were divorced, so that seemed believable.

  “Oh,” Qwon said. “Sorry I’ve missed so much school, Mom.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” Although by the look on her face it clearly wasn’t. “But you’re probably going to have to repeat the seventh grade, or at least work your butt off catching up.”

  Qwon rolled her eyes. “Great.”

  “You two, too.”

  “Sweet,” Kay said drily.

  “I figured,” Artie said. “To be honest, if Merlin wasn’t being such a . . . a . . .” Artie hesitated. He wanted to use a bad word.

  Pammy winked at him. “I know what you’re thinking. No need to say it.”

  “Yeah, if he wasn’t being such a one of those, then we’d all be back in school right now.”

  While they ate they told Pammy everything. Everything. Talking to her while eating a normal breakfast in a normal kitchen in a normal house they all knew well (not to mention Pammy let them have ice cream for dessert!) opened the floodgates. Qwon’s mom was a great listener, and she took their weird news really well. She pushed back tears when she heard about Kynder but was relieved to hear Artie and Kay vow to bring him back. Artie even told them about the Scarffern whistle and showed it to them.

  “What’s it do?” Kay asked.

  “I have no idea. I nearly blew it when Merlin was trying to kill me, and then I thought I lost it, which would have sucked. Luckily, Q found it right after I shot through that emergency moongate.”

  “Why would it have been so bad to lose it, Artie?” Pammy asked.

  “Because Nyneve said it was the most powerful thing in either of the worlds! More powerful than Excalibur, even.” Artie snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember exactly what Nyneve had told him. “She said something like, Excalibur is the symbol of my power and this thing is the secret of it. She also said not to use it unless absolutely necessary, so . . .”

  “So we save it for when we see our friend Merlin again,” Kay said.

  “Or Morgaine,” Qwon added.

  “Or whatever hellish thing is sure to be guarding the Holy Grail,” Artie said glumly.

  Kay stared into her juice glass. “Yeah, or that.”

  Pammy sighed. “You kids have really been through the wringer.” It took every ounce of her will not to forbid them to ever go back to this place that was so dangerous and unknown.

  “We have,” Artie said. They were quiet for a little while. Artie started thinking about his trip through the King’s Gate and how all the crossovers were open now. Finally, he asked, “Pammy—has weird stuff been happening on this side? Anything at all?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Should there be?”

  “I don’t know. The worlds are rejoined now, like they had been for a long time until Morgaine closed up the Otherworld. I guess I was just curious if anything magical was happening over here. And I mean that literally.”

  “No, not yet,” Pammy said. “But this whole thing has had a weird effect on me. Obviously, when your daughter gets kidnapped to another world by a kid dressed in moss, you’ve got to come to terms with some things.”

  “I can imagine,” Artie said. Qwon reached out and squeezed her mom’s hand.

  “It also jogs some memories.” Pammy leaned forward, warming her free hand on her cup of tea. “Qwon, you know how your great-grandparents, Ojiichan and Obaachan, were devout believers in the spirit world? The Otherworld?” Qwon nodded. “Ghosts and fairies and gnomes were everywhere for them, and for me too when I was a little girl. When I was young I heard of Kusanagi from old Tetsuo, just like you. And when my great-aunt, all one hundred and four years of her, gave me that monocle on my wedding day—the one you used to look between the worlds, Artie—she told me never to lose it for any reason. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘It is powerful, dear.’ ‘How?’ She didn’t know, or if she did, she wouldn’t tell me—it was like your whistle. But what reason did I have to doubt her, and what would have been the point if I had? I kept it safe. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have found Kusanagi. If you hadn’t found Kusanagi, then you wouldn’t have been able to bring Qwon back to me.” She took a sip of her tea. “I guess I’m a believer now, Artie, like my grandparents used to be.” Another sip. “And there’s one more thing. Something I’d completely forgotten until Qwon was back in my arms just today.”

  To everyone’s surprise, she turned to Kay and gave her a deeply sympathetic look.

  Kay shifted in her seat. “What is it, Mrs. Onakea?”

  “It’s about Cassie.”

  Kay’s heart skipped a beat. “My mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about her?”

  “We used to be pretty good friends before she, well, went crazy. And as far as I know, I was the last person on this side to see her before she disappeared. She came here in the middle of the night. She was a babbling mess. She couldn’t stop talking about how you”—she shifted her eyes to Artie—“weren’t supposed to be here. How you were not even human, which was clearly ridiculous.”

  Pammy paused. The kids were silent, riveted.

  “I tried to calm her down, but nothing worked. That is, until I mentioned you, Kay, and how it wouldn’t be fair to you for her to leave.”

  “You can say that again,” Kay said weakly.

  “Kay . . . before she left, your mom gave me something. She said, ‘Keep this. When the time is right, give it to my daughter. You’ll know when the time is right.’”

  Kay’s
eyes widened. “That time is now, isn’t it?”

  Pammy let go of her daughter’s hand and stood. “Yes. Yes it is.”

  WIZARDLY INTERLUDE NUMBER ONE (OR, WHAT MERLIN IS UP TO . . .)

  Merlin stood in front of a trio of full-length mirrors, wearing a simple loincloth and inspecting every inch of his body. He was searching for another spot on which to apply a drop of sangrealite. He’d liquefied as much as he’d ever need since returning to his cave in western Wales, and so long as he could continue to administer the stuff, he would be the most powerful wizard who had ever lived.

  But there simply was nowhere else to put it. His body was completely covered in the inky sangrealitic tattoos. His ears, his eyelids, his lips, the spaces between his fingers and toes—every inch of his skin was now a dark blue color like that of a moonless night sky.

  He raised his chin and stared at his reflection. His eyes were very red. Not as bright as a fire engine or a maraschino cherry, but definitely approaching apple territory.

  He blew into his hands as goose bumps prickled over his dark skin, then he held up his arms and, magically, a cloak fell from above and draped over his body.

  He left the mirrors and walked through a rocky hall cut from the earth, passing several cavelike recesses. He passed one room that was closed with a large glass-and-metal door. Beyond it, computer mainframes, constellated with blinking lights, hummed for as far as the eye could see. Merlin paused to observe the data center, a sinister smile on his lips. Beyond that door, numbers were being crunched and processed. The computers were all hacked into the game servers that hosted Otherworld the video game. The same game he’d developed in his cave under Cincinnati and then sold at auction to a major distributor. The same game he’d seeded with actual magic. The same game that had helped to draw the hapless Artie Kingfisher to the Invisible Tower. And the same game that would soon help him defeat this upstart king.

  He rubbed his teeth with a blue finger. Beyond that door, he thought, my army is being prepared. Soon I will inject the circuitry with the power of sangrealite, and the switch will be thrown. . . .