DragonRealm
an excerpt

DragonRealm

This story is dedicated to MY cousin Andrew, our very own little golden dragon.

Chapter One
Nightmares

A quick knock preceded the kitchen door opening. “Hey, Sammie,” Heather greeted her cousin without bothering to turn around.
“Hey, Heather,” Sammie’s usual cheerful voice answered.
Heather turned around holding up a package of cookies. “You here for snacktime?”
“And where else would I be?” Sammie demanded, pretending to act offended. She bounded into the kitchen, shoulder length brown hair bouncing and deep brown eyes sparkling. Even if Sammie were not her cousin, she would undoubtedly still be one of Heather’s favorite people. There was just something about Sammie’s boundless energy and enthusiasm that Heather found addictive.
Heather rolled her eyes. She already had three glasses of milk and three small plates out and ready. Once an equal number of cookies rested on each plate Heather shouted, “Snack time!”
Loud thumping footsteps came from the den, where the television was. In a moment, a thin gangly boy with thick glasses and short, white-blonde hair appeared in the doorway. He took his place at the kitchen counter, mounting the stool with effort. Heather had to resist the impulse to help him. His eyes did not focus on the plate in front of him. Instead he seemed to stare at the toaster. Heather knew her brother was probably actually looking at his food, even if it didn’t look like it. She did not understand why he could not focus on things right in front of him, but a lifetime of living with her older brother taught her that the best place for him to see you was just to his right. Their mother always explained it as looking through a piece of swiss cheese, and her brother Andrew only saw what you could see through the holes. His brain just did not process the rest.
“Mmmff,” Andrew mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. Heather shoved his glass of milk closer, where she estimated he could see it. He nodded, cookie crumbs falling from his lips as he reached for the glass. Heather chewed quietly on her cookie as she watched her brother down his snack in record time. She knew what would happen next, and she waited for it.
He finished his cookies, checking his plate twice to be sure he did not miss any. Then Andrew lifted his plate up. No more cookies. He let it clatter on the counter, making Heather wince. She noticed it never bothered Sammie.
“Sammie!” Andrew shouted as he shoved the plate away. “Cartoons?”
“Sure, Andrew,” Sammie grinned at him. “That’s why I’m here.” She stood to wait patiently for Andrew to get off his stool. Heather waited until the others left the kitchen to clean up their afternoon snack. After depositing their dishes in the dishwasher, she joined the others in the den where Sammie sat next to Andrew in the floor to watch television. Their favorite show, a cartoon soap opera in space, was on. Heather knew Andrew did not follow all of it, especially with all the questions he asked near bedtime. She really didn’t mind. Even though she was two years younger, she walked and talked long before Andrew did. She coached him when he spoke his first words and was the sole witness the first time he walked by himself. It was good to hear his voice. She liked the fact Andrew felt he could talk to her about anything, and did. Okay, so most of it was about cartoons and airplanes, but at least he talked. She often wished she could understand his fascination with airplanes, but since she had a similar obsession with mythical dragons, Heather guessed she could not judge.
Each time Sammie giggled at something on the television, Andrew mimicked their cousin and chuckled too. He had a deep chuckle that contrasted sharply with his thin, frail appearance. His head bobbed a bit too far as he chuckled, and that always made Sammie laugh again and rub his shoulder or arm. Heather suspected he did it to get more attention, but she could not prove it. Not that she would try to stop it, Heather thought Andrew deserved all the attention he got. He did not have friends outside the family, so he tried to command all their attention. Her parents kept telling her to be patient with him, which she never understood. She thought he deserved the all attention he got.
Now, that was not fair, Heather told herself. Andrew did not deserve all the negative attention he got. Her parents were really good at ignoring people who stared and whispered at Andrew. Personally, she got mad. Really mad. These days they did not go out without Sammie along. Her cousin had this amazing calming effect on her, something she could not and did not want to explain. It just was. When Sammie was around, even with people staring and whispering, Heather could live with it. Mainly because Sammie liked to lean over and whisper terrible jokes about those horrible people in her ear.
“I’m home!” Mom’s voice bellowed from the front door. Heather jumped up to see if Mom needed any help. “Hey, honey,” Mom greeted her with a smile. “Your brother watching his show?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Heather said. Mom must not have stopped on the way home today, she just had her briefcase and purse with her. Heather followed her into the study. “How was work?”
Mom blew out a long sigh. “You would not believe my class this semester, Heather. I mean, I’ve had some stupid questions,” Mom shook her head, dark blonde waves shaking around her face, “but how do you get into college without at least knowing what RNA stands for?”
“Public education,” Heather replied, grinning and knowing where this was headed.
“I mean, you knew what it stood for at four!” Her Mom continued the rant. “Okay, you couldn’t pronounce it right, but still. You,” she pointed a finger at Heather’s chest, “knew!”
Heather felt like her grin might hurt her face, it was so wide. “Why don’t they teach genetics in high school?”
Mom groaned, slamming a file from her briefcase on her desk in the study. “They’re supposed to, in biology. You would think all these kids slept through it!”
“But it’s so interesting,” Heather protested, hoping her mom would continue. She loved it when mom came home all wound up like this, talking about how smart she was. It might be silly, but it was great to hear.
“See? You appreciate it,” Mom said, flipping open the folder. She held up a graded exam paper. “This idiot?” She waved the first exam in the air. “If he refuses to drop my class, I am going to do it for him!”
“Hey, Mom!” Andrew leaned in the doorway.
“Hey, Big Man,” Mom smiled at him. She dropped her papers to walk across the room and plant a big kiss on Andrew’s forehead. “You have a good day?”
“Sammie’s here!” he said before pulling out of the room.
“Of course she is,” Mom mumbled. “Tell me,” Mom whispered, “is there a day Sammie does not come over?”
“Sure,” Heather replied with a nod, feeling confused. “When she’s sick. She never wants to risk Andrew getting sick.”
“You know, sometimes I think that girl…” Mom’s voice trailed off. “Good. I don’t want her to get Andrew sick either.”
“Wait.” Heather blocked the door. She listened carefully until she heard the familiar giggles and chuckling from the other room. “What did you mean? Sometimes you think what about Sammie?” She felt irrationally defensive, like her mother was accusing Sammie unfairly of something. But that was not like Mom.
Mom’s smile looked forced. “Nothing, honey. Look, it’s just that sometimes your cousin seems to worry more about Andrew than I do, that’s all.”
Heather relaxed. “Mom, nobody worries about Andrew like you do. I don’t think it’s humanly possible.” She saw the concern in her mother’s eyes. “I mean, you kind of corner the market, you know? The rest of us are amateurs.”
That sad smile broke Mom’s worried face. “Yeah, I guess I do. Come on, you want to help with dinner tonight?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Hey, Aunt Carol,” Sammie appeared in the doorway. “If you’re getting ready for dinner, I better go home. You know how my mom is.” Sammie’s grin was bright and pure. No one could feel down looking at that smile. “See ya tomorrow, cuz.”
“Later, Sammie.” Heather waved. “You already say goodbye to Andrew?”
“Of course,” Sammie replied with a slight wave of her hand. “Later!”
Heather closed the front door behind her cousin. It was the same every day, Sammie arrived through the kitchen and left by the front door. Well, she supposed everyone needed rituals in their lives. The rare occasions Sammie could not come share a show or two with Andrew, her brother was usually agitated and on edge the rest of the evening. They all preferred the days Sammie came over, even if her mother might resent it a little.
After making sure Andrew was happily watching one of his shows, Heather went to help her mother in the kitchen. Since she turned thirteen a few months ago, Mom seemed to depend more heavily on her. Heather liked that. She pulled out some frozen mixed vegetables and a small pot.
“So are there any good students in your new class?” Heather asked, waiting for her water to come to a boil.
“A few. There is hope for doctors of the future. Speaking of which, have you heard from your father?” Mom stood next to her at the stove, stirring a pot of noodles.
“He called earlier. Something about meeting with an administrator after his shift,” she said, anxiously watching for bubbles to appear in the water.
Mom turned to look at her. “The hospital administrator? Did he sound worried?”
Heather frowned. “Dad never sounds worried. Why would he be worried?”
Mom shook her head. “No reason.”
“Mom.” Heather shot her mother a glare. “What’s going on?”
Mom’s mouth twitched a little. “Well, I was not supposed to tell you, but your father put in for a new position.”
“Really?” Heather’s hand froze over her bag of veggies. Her water had just started to boil. “Would that mean more or less hours working?”
“Well,” Mom’s forehead crinkled, “it might be a few more hours at first, until he gets the department running the way he wants, and then it should mean more time at home.”
Heather felt like groaning at the news, but she knew better. Instead she shook her frozen vegetables out into the pot. “Good for him.”
“Heather,” Mom sighed. “Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not,” Heather snapped. Suddenly, she wished Sammie was still here. “I mean it. Good. For. Him.” But not for us, she thought ruefully, attacking the frozen chunks with her wooden spoon. The level of annoyance and irritation building was not unusual, unfortunately. She seemed easier to set off lately. Mom kept telling her it was the age, that thirteen was a difficult year. Whatever.
The phone rang. Still annoyed, Heather pretended not to hear it, concentrating on her vegetables.
“Hello? … Oh, hi, Marion. … No, I thought she left. Heather?” Mom called out.
“Yes?” Heather refused to turn around. Her mom might see her scowling.
“You did see Sammie out, right?”
Heather’s irritation flashed away, replaced by worry. She spun around. “Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Why?”
“Marion? Heather says she left ten minutes ago. Are you sure she isn’t talking to one of the neighbors outside?” Mom asked, ignoring her question. “Good idea. Call me back.”
“Mom?” Heather asked, alarmed. “What was all that about? Isn’t Sammie home yet? It’s only a two minute walk to her house.”
Mom gave her a funny look. “Two minutes? You sound pretty sure of that.”
“I timed it. Isn’t she home?” Heather demanded again. And why wouldn’t she be sure of that?
“No. I’m sure she’s just talking to one of the neighbors,” Mom said, sounding unconcerned. Mom returned to the stove and her noodles. Heather tried to concentrate on stirring the vegetables, but she was not having much luck. Her imagination ran amok, picturing Sammie in the back of a white van, being driven away by scary smelly people.
When the phone rang again, Heather nearly jumped right out of her skin. She snapped the burner off under her vegetables before whirling around to watch her mother answer the phone.
“Hello? … Yes, Marion, I’m sure.” Mom frowned. “All right. Calm down. We’ll all come out to help. … No, no, he’ll be fine. … Yes, I’m sure, Marion. Just be sure to take your cell with you.” Mom hung up the kitchen phone frowning. “Heather, turn everything off and cover those pots. Your aunt says Sammie isn’t home yet, so we’re going out to help look for her. I’ll get Andrew.”
Heather’s breath caught in her chest. Missing? How could Sammie be missing? She was here just a few minutes ago! Heather’s brain went on pause, refusing to process what she just heard. Sammie just was not at home, that was all. Her cousin was probably visiting with a neighbor, or a friend stopped by and Sammie left and forgot to call her parents. Yeah, it was something stupid like that.
Turning around calmly, Heather covered the pots and turned off all the burners. Dinner would have to wait until Sammie decided to be responsible and show up, like she was supposed to. Feeling almost as much irritation for her cousin as she felt for her father right now, Heather followed her mom and brother out the front door.
“Heather, do you have any idea who Sammie might be visiting? Who her friends are?” Mom asked, leading them at a brisk pace toward Sammie’s family’s house.
Heather almost stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “Friends?” She never thought about it before, but Sammie never associated with anyone outside of school except for her and Andrew. “She doesn’t hang out with anyone, really,” she answered lamely. “Just us.”
“She likes me best,” Andrew bragged. “Sammie’s my favorite cousin.”
Heather grinned at that. Sammie did have a way of making Andrew feel special, like he had a perfect place in the world.
Mom glanced back over her shoulder. “No one? Surely there is someone she hangs out with her own age.”
Heather felt her cheeks burn at that. “Why? Because hanging out with someone a year or two younger would be so boring?”
Mom stopped, spun around. “Heather! Now you know I didn’t mean it like that!” Mom glared a moment before taking Andrew’s hand again and hurrying up the street. A number of cars were parked along the curb by Sammie’s house and a crowd of people gathered in the front yard. Heather swallowed hard. She was really going to give Sammie a piece of her mind for worrying so many people like this.
A couple of fruitless hours on the phone calling most of Sammie’s classmates from last year only to discover that most of them only talked to her at school left Heather starved and poor Andrew bored out of his mind. Andrew wanted to go out searching with the “rest” of the adults. Heather gently pointed out that he was sixteen and not technically an adult. Andrew pouted for a few minutes until he forgot the slight insult, distracted by Yogi Bear on the cartoon channel.
Mom came into Sammie’s house, face drawn and worried. “Heather, I’m going to walk you and your brother home. You heat up dinner and make sure Andrew gets to bed for me.”
“But Mom, I want to help,” Heather argued. At the look of exasperation on her mother’s face, she dropped it immediately. Apparently the best way they could help was to be out of the way. She could do that. She had been doing it with Andrew for years.
“Come on, Andrew,” Heather called out. “Let’s go eat!”
Andrew’s head popped up over the couch. “About time!” He moved faster than normal, but with his usual shuffle-step. He left the television on, cartoons blaring in the otherwise empty den. Heather decided she really did not care. When she reached out for Andrew’s hand, he snatched it away. “I’m not a baby,” he declared proudly, heading for the front door.
Heather sucked in a breath, trying not to be irritated at her brother as well. Sammie had some serious explaining to do when they found her. Mom refused to say anything on the way home until she opened the front door of their house. Then she just told them to be good, eat dinner and go to bed. Heather wondered how she could be expected to sleep tonight, especially after being walked home a few short blocks. The fact their mother wanted to walk them home before going back out to search spoke volumes, and Heather did not want to hear it right now. She did not want to think about what might be happening to her cousin.
Andrew was unusually quiet as they ate. “What happened, Heather?” he finally asked in a soft voice. Heather heard the way he teetered on the verge of tears, but she did not have the heart to lie to him just to make him feel better. That never worked, especially if the thing he worried about really happened. Mount Vesuvius could take lessons from her brother.
“Sammie is missing,” she said simply.
“But why?” he asked, voice rising in pitch.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, slamming a pot into the sink, “but there better be a damn good reason.”
The garage door slammed shut. Heather looked over expectantly, and she noticed her brother doing the same. Dad, looking tired but rather pleased, walked in with his tie pulled halfway down and his leather carrying case in one hand. “What are you two doing up?”
Heather scowled. How could Dad not know?
“Sammie is missing,” Andrew rushed to say. “We’ve been looking for her.”
“Oh, really?” Dad dropped his carrying case on the kitchen counter. “And where have you been looking? Behind the couch? In the hall closet?” He smiled at them, like this was a game of hide-and-seek.
“More like all those cars and people you passed on the way home are looking in bushes and ditches,” Heather snapped.
The smile faded. “You’re serious? Where’s your mother?” Dad glanced around.
“Outside,” Andrew replied, sounding tired and weary.
“Looking for Sammie,” Heather finished the statement for him.
“I take it she told you two to eat and go to bed?” Dad asked. He nodded at them. “Looks like you’re done eating. Go on. Bed.”
“But I want to wait for Sammie!” Andrew said with tears in his eyes, stomping his foot.
“I know you do, Big Guy,” Dad wrapped one arm around Andrew’s shoulders, leading him out of the kitchen, “but right now the best way for you to help is to get some rest. That way, if they need more help in the morning, you’ll be ready to go.”
Heather scowled at the empty promise. Dad must really be banking on the fact Sammie would be found tonight, or tomorrow morning Andrew would make people wish he were just Mount Vesuvius. At the top of the stairs, Andrew squirmed out of Dad’s grip. Dad never did understand that bond between Sammie and Andrew. Well, Heather did not either, but at least she recognized and accepted it.
“Come on, Heather,” Andrew barked. “Teeth. Story. Bed.”
Heather nodded, feeling a bit weary herself. Ever since Andrew figured out that older kids usually bossed around the younger kids, he kept trying to take charge. It got old after a while, but Heather did not have the strength to argue tonight. She oversaw Andrew brushing his teeth, then he inspected her job. He disappeared into his room while she changed for bed. Before she could go into his room to read him his bedtime story, he appeared in her doorway in his pajamas.
“Heather?” he sounded scared. “Can we read in here tonight?”
Heather bit her lip, considering it. She did have a queen size bed, but not because Andrew liked to snuggle up with her during thunderstorms. It was because she slept all over the bed and usually rolled out of anything smaller than a queen.
“Please?” Andrew begged, his eyes focused on a point just above her left ear. “Dragons keep me safe,” he said, pointing out the large black dragon she had painted above her headboard.
Well, if she had to be honest, Heather really did not want to sleep by herself tonight anyway. “Fine,” she said with a groan, because she could not let Andrew see how relieved she actually felt not to be alone. He grinned and laughed out loud as he threw himself at her bed. She shook her head at his antics as she followed. “Let’s see it,” Heather demanded as she slid between the sheets next to her brother.
He handed over a Disney book with large illustrations. “Little Mermaid? Again?” Heather cut her eyes at him. “Seriously?”
Andrew pulled the covers over his mouth, up to his nose. “Want a story where everybody is okay.”
“Oh.” Heather snuggled up next to him. That made too much sense, actually. She started to read, wondering how much of it they would actually get through before he fell asleep. As they neared the end, and the end of her voice, a glance at Andrew’s lax face and closed eyes made her stop. She waited a moment. When he did not complain, Heather figured it was safe to turn off the light and try not to sleep.
She stared up at the dark ceiling worrying. Sammie did not come home on her own. If her cousin had planned to run away or do something foolish, both of which would be horribly out of character, Heather was certain Sammie would have at least told her about it. What happened? What was happening to Sammie now? Would they ever see her again? Where the hell was she?
Heather blinked, looking around her. A moment ago she was in bed with Andrew snuggled up against her. Now as she looked around Heather saw she stood on a street corner. It had those blurry edges and surreal quality of a dream. Great, she was dreaming, and it would undoubtedly turn into a nightmare about what could happen to Sammie.
A scream drew her attention to the house. Heather frowned, a sense of foreboding welling up. She moved closer, the still silence after the scream more frightening. As she approached the front door, a weight settled between her shoulder blades. Heather found the new weight comforting, providing a measure of assurance and confidence. Her hand found the doorknob and twisted. Locked, of course. Nightmares were never easy.
She walked around the house, eyes sharp for another way in. Irritated by not finding another door, she continued to circle when another scream rang out in the night. She gritted her teeth in frustration. There had to be a way in, there just had to be. She rounded the house again, pausing at the garage door. Without thinking about it, just knowing what she needed to do, Heather reached back over her head. Her hand grasped something hard that felt perfect in her palm. She pulled, unsheathing a sword that glistened in the streetlight. Swallowing a laugh of relief at the sight, Heather took a step backward. She eyed the garage door, deciding how exactly she should strike.
Taking both the loudest and least risky strike, Heather brought her blade down to slash vertically through the center of the metal door. It screeched in protest as her trusted weapon cut easily through it. A second slash opened a hole wide enough for her to step through. Keeping her sword in front of her, Heather stepped into the garage.
It was dark and, judging by the thin streetlight filtering through the gash, empty. Heather tried to move silently to the door that led into the house. The thought about her cautions being absurd considering the racket getting through the door made flitted through her mind. She pushed the pesky thought away as she reached for the doorknob. It was unlocked. She pushed it open, one hand on the door and the other squeezing her sword hilt tightly. Groans of pure agony now reached her, making the blood rush in her ears with an oceanic roar.
Heather crept through the house, heading to where the largest room should be. Light glowed brightly from the room at the end of the hall, where the groans came from. The light flickered, as though the room were lit by torches instead of electric lights. Heather paused, taking stock and a deep breath. She was ready.
Another scream of pure pain and horror pierced the house, driving ice shivers of terror into Heather’s spine. She charged ahead, barreling into the room sword first. The scene before her nearly made her drop her weapon and run back out, but the sheer horror of it cemented her feet to the floor.
Light flickered from torches set into the stone walls, while the electric lights set into the ceiling were dark. A giant black figure was secured to the wall, which appeared to be made of stone instead of drywall, with glistening silver manacles and chains. It was undeniably a dragon, a black dragon. Her scales were not midnight black or the black of darkness, they were the black of shimmering ebony or enamel. Heather saw her reflection in the dragon’s scales hundreds of times over, her jaw slack and eyes wide. Several scales were missing, leaving gaping holes from which blood poured down tree trunk thick legs and pooled across pristine white Berber carpet.
When she forced her eyes to blink, Heather noticed other movement in the room. Short, squat dirty men pried at a scale on the dragon’s hind flank. They all looked similar, the same squat look and smushed facial features, so much that they had to be related. The tallest one reached Heather’s elbow. With a snarl, she raised her sword. The next few moments were a blur of movement and blood.
Breathing heavily, Heather looked at the carnage that surrounded her. Each of the nasty squat men laid dead, dirtying the white carpet. She stepped toward the dragon who seemed to relax as she moved closer. She raised her sword, bringing it down on one of the manacles which shattered under the impact.
Heather sat up, eyes wide. It was dark and she sat on something soft. With a shaking hand, she reached out and turned on her bedside lamp.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, rubbing a hand across her sweaty forehead as she looked around her bedroom. “Just a nightmare.”
Heather pushed herself gently out of bed, careful not to wake Andrew. Walking as quietly as possible, she headed downstairs. Making her way to the kitchen in the dark was more difficult than she thought it would be. Hands outstretched, Heather had to feel her way along the walls, barely missing hitting her face on the kitchen doorframe. With a breath of relief, she headed into the kitchen dimly illuminated by a streetlight that shone through the kitchen window over the sink.
Trembling fingers opened the cabinet door hiding the glasses. She grabbed one and filled it with tap water, staring out the window. The house she could see out the kitchen window was familiar. Heather cocked her head to one side as she stared at it. She knew it from someplace other than through this window. Where did she know it from? When water hit her fingers, Heather jerked her glass from under the water faucet where it was running over. She shut off the water, still contemplating that house. Sure, she saw it everyday, but why did it worry her right now?
Images from her nightmare flickered in her mind like memory. Heather concentrated on the image of the house just before she entered it, when she crept around it looking for entry. Her eyes locked on to the house just outside her window. It was that house. Only the clatter of her glass dropping into the sink brought her back to her senses. Heather snapped her mouth shut.
“Heather!” Andrew raced into the kitchen, breathless. “Sammie needs us! Let’s go!” He headed for the front door.
“Wait!” Heather tried to keep her voice to a whisper. “You’re not allowed to go outside by yourself!” She had to run flat out to catch up with Andrew at the curb. That was weird. The last adjective you could use to describe Andrew was athletic. Mom liked to say he would blow away in a stiff wind.
“Come on!” Andrew shouted impatiently, jumping up and down in the street.
“Get the hell outta the street!” Heather shouted, waving him back toward her.
“No cars!” He bolted from the house. Heather ran after him, wondering where this surge of strength and speed came from. They rounded the corner, headed for her nightmare house.
“Hey!” A figure stumbled toward them across the lawn of the nightmare house.
Heather knew that voice better than she knew her parents’ voices. “Sammie!” She and Andrew rushed to their cousin. Sammie fell into her arms, eyes closing as she collapsed. “Sammie! Sammie!” Heather shook her cousin by the shoulders, but there was no answer. She pressed an ear against Sammie’s chest, relieved to hear regular breathing. In the light from the overhead streetlight, Heather saw the deep cuts in Sammie’s arms and legs, blood spilling from the wounds.
“Andrew, go get Dad!”