And Ruin Followed Behind Her

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

My father’s cemetery plot. I envisioned it in my mind’s eye, and let it pull me toward my vision. A crack of purple light, and we were there. We snapped out of the void and landed in the cemetery. The grass was dewy under my hands and knees. Mama stood next to me, hunched over and gasping. I rose to my feet in front of my father’s grave.

“That—I didn’t like that.”

I rubbed her back. “I know mama, but we’re here.”

“You brought me here?” she asked, looking up at the cemetery.

I grabbed Mama’s hand, gently. “It was the safest place I could think of. Daddy will keep you safe.”

“That was never his strength, baby, even in life.”

I turned back to watch the giant, red portal swirling around Chandler. It somehow felt more ominous from miles away than standing next to it. Close up, I didn’t understand its sheer magnitude, but from here, I could see it towering twenty feet above the church tower, the tallest building in town.

It was night again. Near the portal it had been bright as day, but here in the cemetery, the stars were coming out. Crisp air filled my nostrils and I took a deep inhale of the night air, my first breath since leaving the tea shop. I turned to my father’s grave. Mama touched the headstone.

“They killed him because they thought he was a pixie,” I said. “They drained him into the mystery spot just like they were gonna drain you. That’s why his neck was slit. When that didn’t work, they hung him to cover it up.”

Mama smiled. “That actually makes me feel better in a way. The thought that he wasn’t killed just for the color of his skin—I could never leave this place because of that. Leaving meant they won.” She choked back her tears. “But they did win, didn’t they?”

I shook my head. “No. They didn’t win yet.”

The rhythmic thud of a helicopter passed by overhead. Then another, and finally a third. Three military choppers, armed with missiles, flew past us. The national guard was here, and that couldn’t be good.

From the top of the hill, I watched a string of Humvees drive into the town, shining their bright lights for all to see.

“This will not end well,” Mama said. “The national guard never made anything better.”

The Kent State shooting was still raw in my mind. I was supposed to be at the protests that day, but I decided not to join the carpool because I had too much work to do. It wasn’t until later that night that my roommate told me to turn on the radio and I heard what happened.

And now, on top of a town full of monsters, the national guard was swarming the town as well.

The helicopters fired four rockets that exploded onto the dragon’s scaly skin but didn’t even cause enough damage for Aziolith to break stride. Instead, he turned back and spit fire at the choppers until they careened into the church tower, sending the steeple crashing into the street below.

“I have to go before it gets worse,” I said to Mama.

“Be careful, baby.”

I didn’t know if she was warning me about the monsters or the military, but either way her warnings fell on deaf ears. There was nothing careful about what I was about to do. I pulled a pinch of pixie dust out of my bag and kissed Mama on the head. Then, I closed my eyes, let my mind reach forward, and vanished.

*

I REAPPEARED INSIDE my classroom. Without students or teachers inside, I didn’t have to worry about being interrupted as I read through Elka’s book.

Three more explosions outside my window. No doubt the military trying to destroy the dragon, but I couldn’t focus on any of that now. I had work to do. I was about to fight a dragon, and without a plan, I would be dead in the water.

Elka told me that there was a weakness in Aziolith, which I could find by looking through Pixie Dust and reading the exploits of Akta. I turned on the lights to my classroom and pulled out the book.

When I thought that the book was simply the foolish ramblings of an old woman, I had little respect for it, but now, as a historical document, I wanted to comb back over every page and take in every exquisite hand-painted image. No longer was this the fevered dream or fantastical story. Every page was brimming with vibrant colors and sacred texts; these were illustrations of my people, in full relief, depicting significant moments in time that I wanted to relive.

If I got through this ordeal, I promised myself, I would devote the whole summer to studying its pages. Right now, there was work to do. Elka told me that the answer to killing the dragon could be found within the stories of Akta, one of the last pixies of memory.

I flipped open the book and turned toward the back. There was no table of contents, but I assumed the histories of each pixie were in chronological order, and I was correct because I found Akta’s tales in the last pages of the book.

Pixies lived a nomadic life, apparently, and their traditions were passed down orally, which is why it was harder to find information about them. Most of the pixies would be lucky to have a single page, but Akta’s story filled several. There were dozens of stories about monsters she killed and battles she won. She was an expert warrior, but her exploits were also well documented by virtue of time and place—she was a monster hunter for King Odgeir’s kingdom, and written tales of the time were very thorough.

I skimmed through Akta’s stories until I found a page with a giant dragon emblazoned on the page. The artwork depicted a great battle between Akta and the black-scaled dragon, Aziolith.

Many hundreds of knights from around the world fell by the claw of Aziolith. Men with great steel and brawn, with the smarts of King Arthur and the bravery of Lancelot, fought Aziolith to their death. Most never landed a blow on the beast before the great black dragon sent them to Velaska and the underworld below.

It was only after a decade of sending knights to their doom that King Odgeir, second of his name, called upon the greatest monster hunter in the land, Akta of the Forest People, friend to men and foe of monsters, to finally stop the scourge.

After six dozen days, Akta came upon the great dragon Aziolith on the battlefield. It had just laid waste to the town of Orelle and stolen all its treasures for itself.

The battle lasted for three days and nights, with no rest for either dragon or pixie. Akta never worked so hard felling a beast and the great dragon never toiled so long battling one of its prey. Every attack Akta threw at the great beast clanked off its impenetrable armor, and with every attack from the great dragon Akta disappeared, safe from harm.

It wasn’t until the end of the third day when Aziolith made his grave mistake. After spitting fire at Akta for an entire morning with no success, the great dragon reared up to stomp Akta. She sliced Aziolith across the stomach and two scales fell off from its belly.

The dragon tried to cover up its new weakness, but Akta was too fast. She appeared at the monster’s stomach and jammed her daggers into its hide. She plunged in her blades again and again until the great menace Aziolith fell to the ground with a great scream and departed from this world.

It was a prodigious victory, but with its death so also was buried the secret of its immense horde of treasure.

I closed the book and sighed loudly. Elka was right. Akta’s story gave me the means to kill the dragon, even if it would be nearly impossible to make my way to the great dragon’s stomach and stab it in just the right spot using only the two, tiny daggers. Yet, that was the only way to kill the beast, which meant that’s exactly what I had to do.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and placed Pixie Dust inside of it. I hoped it would be safe until I returned, if I returned, which was wholly unlikely. If not, I hoped it fell into the right hands, and not one who would destroy it—or mock it.

Then, I pulled Elka’s daggers out of the satchel and gripped them tightly in my hands. I left the satchel on my chair, pushed open the door to my classroom, and ran out into the hallway, ready to face my destiny, knowing that I had almost no chance of making it out of this alive.