Dare to Believe: Teen & Young Adult Epic Fantasy Bundle (Series Bundle Andy Smithson Bk 4, 5 & 6): Dragons, Serpents, Unicorns, Pegasus, Pixies, Trolls, Dwarfs, Knights and More! Read online

  “They probably thought they’d have me in no time.”

  Mom nodded. “I think it would be a good idea to keep Methuselah in the family room…just in case.”

  Andy’s eyes jetted up and met Mom’s.

  *****

  Still no word from Oomaldee, Andy fumed as he flopped in the bean bag chair in his bedroom two weeks later. Madison had not yet returned from school and he had the house to himself. After everything I did for Father, for him to treat me this way… He slammed his fist on the floor.

  Just then a thought fluttered by causing him to whisper, “Wait a minute…” He leapt up and ran down the hall.

  Andy ran into Madison’s violent peach room, landing on all fours in front of her bed’s dust ruffle. If she… The thought fanned the flames of frustration ever hotter.

  He threw up the fabric and scrutinized the neatly arranged containers. No chest. But she could have hidden it behind… Andy grabbed the box closest to him, then the next and the next, hoping. He peered under her bed again. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Madison’s accusation startled him and he glanced up to see steam burst from her ears, the top of her head open, and a whistle extend and blow.

  He started a weak explanation, but disappointment overwhelmed and he snapped, “You hid a message from Oomaldee before!” as he raced back to his room.

  “You’re blaming me for not hearing from that place?” Madison screeched, storming into the hall after him.

  Andy knew the incident wasn’t over, but he didn’t care. He slammed his bedroom door in her face and locked it, then sprawled across his bed. He didn’t even try to defend against her pounding and insults. With no response to keep the conflict raging, Madison eventually gave up and retreated back to her cave, no doubt to await Mom’s or Dad’s arrival home from work.

  His conduct earned him the privilege of weeding Mom’s flower beds in both the front and back yards on Saturday.

  And so at the appointed hour Andy trudged into the garage.

  “Be careful not to pull up my flowers as you weed,” Mom commanded as he retrieved the requisite tools and ambled to the front yard.

  The sun beat down mercilessly, but the rivers of sweat that watered the dry ground combined with the physical exertion provided a constructive outlet to ease some of Andy’s frustration.

  As he pulled weeds from between the zinnias, the first rational thought in weeks blossomed: I should try calling Daisy!

  Last year, when the she-dragon had flown him to Oomaldee from the water park in San Antonio, she had told him to call in his thoughts if he ever needed her help.

  If there’s ever a time I need to hear from you, Daisy, it’s now.

  Andy stood the trowel up in the dirt, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

  Daisy! Daisy? Can you hear me?

  He waited several minutes, but the she-dragon gave no response, so he tried again. Daisy! Please answer.

  Nothing.

  The disappointment he had beaten back all morning threatened to sting once more as he sat back on his haunches. He brought his hand up to wipe more sweat from his brow, and as he did he brushed the pouch hanging from his neck. The key! It’s brought stone statues to life, got us out of the dwarfs’ net, and Alden used it to make me wake up after getting hit by that spong. Maybe…

  He pulled the key from its home and, holding it in both hands, repeated his plea aloud. “Daisy! Please answer. Please.”

  “Daisy, please answer, please…” Andy heard the mocking sentiment from behind him and whirled around. “Daisy, please answer,” Madison repeated in an annoyingly high pitch.

  “This doesn’t concern you,” Andy growled.

  “Oh Daisy, please answer,” she mocked again. “Who’s Daisy?”

  “The dragon who flew me to Oomaldee last year.”

  “You’re so weird,” Madison quipped. “You’re calling a dragon? Good luck with that.” She raised her brows to exaggerate her point, then turned and walked away, repeating in more dramatic form, “Oh Daisy… Answer me… P-P-Please…”

  After Andy heard the back door slam, he threw the gold key as hard as he could across the back yard and yelled at the top of his lungs, “I hate this! I hate Oomaldee! I hate Father! I hate all of it!”

  *****

  With hope of hearing from Oomaldee exhausted, Andy’s mood flagged as October arrived.

  “What are you going to dress up as for trick-or-treating, Andy?” Dad asked over dinner.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Really? You always look forward to it and I thought the two of us could go together—make it a guys night. I was thinking of going as Harry Potter, what do you think?”

  Andy pushed his green beans across the plate with his fork.

  Mom and Dad shared a look.

  “You, Harry Potter?” Madison giggled.

  “What’s wrong with me dressing as Harry Potter?”

  “Don’t you think you’re…a bit old for that, Dad?”

  “You’re no fun, Maddy. It’s Halloween. Besides, you’re not even going.”

  “Now that I’m in high school, I’m too old for that kind of stuff. You should dress up as one of those goons Andy’s so nervous about,” Madison joked, extending an arm below the table, imitating the overly long stretch of the zolt’s appendage.

  Andy scowled and Mom corrected, “That’s enough, Maddy.”

  Madison shrugged before asking to be excused.

  After dinner, as Andy scanned the news websites for history class, he found an article titled:

  GANG HITS CHICAGO MERCANTILE EXCHANGE

  The gang of mercenaries that has struck many notable establishments in recent months attacked Chicago’s famous Mercantile Exchange this morning wielding broadswords and daggers. The offensive halted trading for over an hour as security guards and police converged to negotiate with gang members who had taken several hostages.

  We spoke with an official who indicated the thugs were demanding significant quantities of rope with which to construct an enormous web.

  “Somehow, I don’t think they understood the Exchange trades commodities but doesn’t actually have them on hand,” the police chief offered in his briefing. “The gang members were arrested after a brief scuffle and no hostages were harmed.”

  Despite his mood, Andy couldn’t help but laugh. Sounds like they want to build their own worldwide web. He showed the article to Mom who responded, “At least they’re nowhere near here. Although…it’s hard to say where else they might be looking.”

  Andy felt his stomach clench. Oomaldee’s turned a deaf ear, but these goons are still after me. Perfect. Just perfect.

  *****

  December arrived and with it chilly weather that served to further dampen Andy’s spirits despite a two-week vacation from school. For her part, Mom embraced the season as she always did and went all out decorating the house as well as having a crew hang festive holiday lights outside.

  She insisted the tree be a noble fir, and nothing short in stature; the once-green conifer sparkled and glistened two stories to the top of the round niche the staircase wrapped in the entry, proudly displaying an army of gold and silver ornaments. The lower branches showcased Madison’s and Andy’s earliest attempts at crafts and an assortment of other keepsakes. The holidays seemed the one time of year Mom’s spirits would not be dimmed, and she hummed carols (albeit not always in tune) wherever she went.

  Andy sat slumped on the sofa in the family room Saturday morning, staring at the wreath over the fireplace. While he was not into Christmas in the same way as Mom, he enjoyed this time of year. He fondly remembered baking Christmas cookies and trekking out into the woods to cut down the perfect tree with Grandma and Grandpa Smithson.

  His thoughts meandered to his best friends, Alden and Hannah. He wished they could be here to share the occasion with him, along with Father, Mermin, Hans, and Marta. I wonder what they’re doing. Do they celebrate Christmas in Oomaldee? T
he random thought surprised him. For all the time I’ve spent there…I’m the heir, yet how much do I really know about the land? Andy sighed. I sure wish they’d write.

  Mom’s humming interrupted his contemplations as she descended the stairs. “Want to help make Christmas cookies this morning?”

  “I thought you had Madison signed up for that.”

  “I do, but the more the merrier.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Suit yourself. Grandpa Smithson will be arriving tomorrow and I want to make sure we have his favorite goodies.”

  “May I use the computer?”

  “What for? You don’t have a current event homework due this week.”

  “I know, but I want to see…” He did not need to finish his sentence. Mom knew what he was thinking and nodded her approval.

  Andy sat down at the desk in the home office and turned on the “kids” computer. He scanned several news websites before he found an article of interest:

  NEWS OF THE NEWS

  Officials at the historic Los Angeles Times today reported its offices were broken into Friday. The thieves appeared to be novices as surveillance cameras revealed the assailants recklessly butchered a door with a broadsword, triggering alarms. The group of twelve made their way to the third floor where security personnel cornered them as they rummaged through files. An eyewitness to the events said, “They kept demanding information on someone by the name of Andy Smithson.”

  A showdown ensued in which officers fired shots, subduing ten of the suspects. The remaining two charged, and guards fired in self defense. The injured were taken to a nearby hospital for treatment and are in critical condition.

  Andy exhaled loudly. The zolt are after me and no one will talk to me. What did I do wrong? I thought they were my friends.

  *****

  Spring rolled around and with it Andy experienced a renewed sense of despair at the steely, cold indifference shown by those in Oomaldee. It’s been ten months and not one word. They could be dead for all I know. And who knows what Abaddon’s up to. He hoped no harm had come to those he loved, but his brain could not reconcile the care and warmth they had shown with the current situation. Just tell me you hate me, it’d be better than this not knowing!

  He glanced at the end table where Methuselah’s hilt rested. I wish it would work for me when I’m home. I’d sure feel better. Over the past couple weeks, Andy had become aware that not having the use of his trusted companion had compounded his feelings of helplessness. He and Mom had been at Target shopping for new sneakers when he thought he spotted a zolt stalking them. He had reached for his sword without result. Thankfully the threat had been nothing more than a young child playing with her stuffed animal, but the few seconds he had felt naked without his blade served to intensify his frustration.

  What am I going to use to defend myself if the zolt find me? The question plagued his thoughts without resolution, the scenario seeming more and more probable with each news article he read. This afternoon it had been:

  LIBRARIES HIT IN COORDINATED ATTACKS

  In what appears to be a series of well-coordinated attacks, heavily armed assailants invaded fifty of the largest libraries across the country today.

  Sandy Shiffer from the Library of Congress allowed us an exclusive interview. She indicated, “A group of ten odd-looking men with broadswords and daggers forcibly entered the building this morning and demanded help in locating a boy. We informed them we were not equipped to perform such a search, but they proceeded to put a dagger to the throats of three of our staff until we agreed to cooperate.” Ms. Shiffer declined to comment on whether the thugs gleaned any information before security officers successfully disarmed and arrested the men.

  Other notable libraries included in the attack were the New York Public Library, Cornell and Princeton University libraries, the Dallas Public Library, and the library at the University of Texas in Austin.

  Andy had reread the article several times as he felt his stomach tie itself in a hard knot. They’re getting close…

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Pizza Guy

  With a month remaining until the school year ended, Andy strode into his bedroom after downing a snack, ready to engage the minotaur in an epic battle to end all conflicts. His newest video game, Maze Zing, had grabbed his attention, and he planned to dispense with the well-armed villain before Mom or Dad got home.

  As he dumped his backpack on the bed, he noticed a gold envelope on his pillow. A mix of emotions instantly bubbled up as he read the address: Prince Andrew, he whose accusations must cease.

  What?! Not one peep out of Oomaldee for months and now…

  He opened the flap and slipped out two sheets of parchment. The first read:

  “Thou knowest what thou knows,

  Less so what thou lacks.

  But blind art thou to that which

  Thou knowest not ye lacks.”

  Andy stopped and reread the paragraph before continuing. “I know what I know…I know some of what I don’t know…But I’m blind to what I don’t know I lack.”

  He mulled the last thought over. I’m blind to what I don’t know I lack. “Well…everybody is.” As he said it, a discomforting thought sparked and began growing. He read on:

  “Thy fixation on communication,

  Causing consternation o’er the duration,

  Is thy mind’s apparition

  lacking sound foundation.

  Leap not to accusation,

  But instead to admiration.

  For love’s provocation,

  Becomes denial’s vindication.”

  Andy paused, the rebuke causing him to squirm. I guess I have been accusing everyone of ignoring me. But why didn’t they contact me? I have to admit, it doesn’t seem like them.

  “Love’s provocation becomes denial’s vindication.” The thought circled and attempted to land. What if they wanted to contact me but didn’t because Alden told them what Abaddon said in the tunnel? Do they know the zolt are after me? Have they been protecting me the whole time?

  Andy felt a riptide suck him below the surface of a love he had longed to believe existed between him and Father and the others, but evidence made it difficult to embrace. Did Father deny what he wanted for my safety? The possibility temporarily beat back the frustration that had plagued him.

  He turned to the second page and continued reading:

  “Dragon scale, venom, and unicorn horn,

  Costly ingredients you have borne.

  The bonds of your people,

  To loose them, you’ve sworn.

  Yet more learning and growing

  Embark you upon,

  A quest for the noble

  Long years have foregone.

  A song so pure

  Trills listeners to tears.

  A sacrifice, a giving,

  And new life appears.

  Yellow, crimson, orange, or red,

  Fire-touched or unscorched, shed.

  A quill of this warbler

  No creature hath bred.”

  It’s the next clue! But here? That’s different.

  Andy studied the verses but nothing made much sense other than the part about the quill of a warbler. It’s a bird’s feather. But what kind? And there’s something about fire. That can’t be good. “No creature has bred”—that makes no sense.

  Andy’s mind whirled to bring meaning to the puzzle, but as with all the previous clues, simplicity was never part of the answer. One thing he knew, he would be headed back to Oomaldee soon.

  That evening, Andy grabbed his flashlight and ventured up to the attic for the first time since his return from Oomaldee. Nearly a year away from the trunk had produced nothing but a layer of dust. He remembered seeing a scroll about Abaddon and briefly regretted wasting the time when he could have been discovering more about his pursuer. There was also a manuscript with the history of Hadession he wanted to digest.

  Tossing off what could not be changed, Andy sn
eezed as he lifted the lid and propped it open. The unsigned note he had disregarded, precipitating a sudden return, sat in the uppermost tray. Next to it were the black leather holster with the purple crest and the small parchment decoder scroll, just the way he had left them. But one more item had been added—the gold key he had thrown in frustration months before. Andy glanced about the attic but all was still. How?

  Knowing no answer would come, Andy added the token back to his pouch, then pulled the upper tray out of the trunk and set it aside. He searched the fifteen scrolls populating the second level until he located the one titled History of King Abaddon.

  He unrolled two feet of the parchment and set several of his old Nintendo 64 games across the top to hold it open. Let’s see if my dream was real…

  For the next two weeks, Andy snuck up to the attic every day after school (once Madison was otherwise occupied) and labored over deciphering the scroll. The author confirmed all the viceroy had spoken before the committee, but there was more.

  Tonight, Andy finished translating a portion of the scroll and frowned:

  “Rumor of the existence of dark sorcerers in the northern lands has persisted for eons without confirmation, and while I am unable to conclusively prove Naparte encountered these wizards, reports confirm he ventured northward into that region after his graduation.”