Ch. 9: The Dragon-born

Back to Arheled

             They   came   to   Rowley   Park,   Ronnie   carrying   the   long   umbrella   like   a   sword   and   now   and   again   pretending   to   fence   with   Ralph   or   Moriel,   to   the   admiring   amusement   of   the   girls. The   park   stood   on   the   east   side   of   Winsted   Rd,   under   a   row   of   ancient   silver   maples,   whose   long   branches   drooped   right   down   into   the   playscape. This   last   was   a   fenced   area,   ringed   with   a   white   plank   fence   and   paved   with   wood   chips. A   sad   path   zigzagged   in   square   bends   through   it. Totally   purposeless   structures   of   half-sunk   payloader   tires   and   truck   tires   stuck   up   here   and   there. Castles   of   pressure-treated   lumber   stood   on   the   street   side,   their   towers   deliberately   constructed   so   as   to   be   diagonally   aslant. Swings   between   them   were   suspended   from   huge   single   logs   upon   beams. One   structure   in   the   very   middle   was   made   to   resemble   a   dragon;   tires   leaned   on   each   other,   higher   at   the   middle,   to   form   its’   segmented   body,   which   rose   at   the   end   into   a   sort   of   head. One   tire   was   cut   in   half   in   jagged   triangles   like   a   toothed   mouth,   propped   open,   a   rubber   tongue   hanging   down,   upright   small   tires   forming   horns   and   eyes. There   were   picnic   tables   under   tall   oaks   near   the   cemetery   side,   and   a   low   brick   wall   shut   off   this   half   from   the   street.

             The   carnival   was   set   up   on   the   fields   to   the   left,   towards   Mad   River. Blinking   strings   of   lights   on   the   various   small   rides   swung   and   turned. Crowds   of   people   strolled   about   the   lanes   between   rides,   groups   of   teenagers   most   numerous. Laughing   faces,   shiny   with   the   humidity   and   makeup,   of   many   pretty   girls;   the   goofy   faces   of   the   attendant   boys   orbiting   them;   relaxed   yet   harassed   faces   of   young   mothers;   faces   of   dour   older   people   drinking   in   the   crowd. Ronnie   was   unusually   silent   as   they   strolled   about,   even   grim:   this   crowd   felt   queer. Hollow. Empty,   almost,   as   if   all   the   high   spirits   and   laughter   was   artificial   and   induced   by   stimulants. As   if   the   people   milling   around   were   dead   and   knew   they   were   dead,   but   wanted   to   forget   it   for   one   wild   evening. Laughter   rang   out,   raucous,   too   loud,   forced. Thunder   grumbled.

             “What’s   the   matter,   Ronnie?”   Shannon   said   slyly,   crinkling   her   dark   eyes   at   him. “You’re   so   quiet.”

             “We   are   on   enemy   terrain.”   he   answered.

             They   found   Mary,   finally,   over   by   the   dragon   roller   coaster. It   had   a   cute   castle   façade   with   red   lights   and   a   wussy   little   loop   of   track   with   a   few   lumps. But   the   train   went   around   it   fast   enough   to   make   the   little   kids   scream;   a   cute   train,   shaped   like   a   long   fat   dragon   with   rearing   head   and   segmented   body   of   cars,   the   scaley   sides   green   and   purple,   the   underbelly   yellow. She   waved   as   they   came   over   and   the   girls   all   hugged.

             “Hey,   guys! Moriel! I’m   glad   you   made   it. Hi   Ralph. Hi   Ronnie.”   Mary   said. She   was   large-built   and   heavyset,   with   dark-blond   hair   tied   back,   a   weird   black   expression,   warm   blue   eyes   and   a   very   pleasant   smile. She   had   heavy   but   good-looking   features   and   a   quick   wit.

             “Those   lights   almost   look   like   fairy   writing.”   said   Mary   as   they   stood   in   line   for   tickets.

             “You   wanna   see   some   real   Elf-writing?”   said   Ronnie. He   dug   in   his   backpack   until   he   found   a   pen   he’d   pulled   out   of   the   gutter,   took   some   scrap   paper   from   a   trash   bin   and   began   writing   in   a   queer   flowing   script   of   curled   letters. “Tengwar.”   he   said. “The   Fëanorian   script,   I   think.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “They   look   like   decoration.”   said   Mary.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I’m   more   impressed   with   how   he   holds   that   pen.”   said   Dominique. Ronnie   held   it   with   his   fingers   curled   over   the   stem,   his   index   finger   guiding   it,   his   thumb   pressed   against   it   from   underneath.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I’ve   always   held   it   that   way.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Those   are   Elf-letters?”   said   Shannon   as   Ralph   and   Mary   went   forward   to   buy   their   tickets. “What   are   Elves   like? Are   they   fairies?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Well,   fairies   were   Elves   once,   is   more   like   it.”   he   said. “Elves   are   tall   and   noble   and   very   fair,   but   as   they   grow   ancient   their   spirits   consume   their   bodies,   until   they   seem   like   wraiths   and   spectres.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Am   I   like   an   Elf?”   Shannon   said   pertly,   looking   up   at   Ronnie   with   a   kind   of   sly   cuteness.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You?’   Mary   put   in,   having   bought   her   tickets. Ronnie   with   a   start   went   and   bought   his. “I   don’t   know,   Shannon—you’re   kind   of   pretty   in   a   different   way.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What   about   you,   Ronnie?”   said   Shannon,   who   had   bought   tickets   before   the   others. “What   do   you   see   me   as?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   hemmed   and   hawed,   but   under   pressure   he   finally   got   out,   “You   remind   me   of   a   cloud,   a   soft   melty   sweet   ice-cream   cloud.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Shannon   gave   him   a   fluttery   smile. “That   has   to   be   the   nicest   compliment   I’ve   ever   received.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What’s   Dominique   like?”   Ralph   put   in.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Dominique   giggled. Ronnie   laughed. “That’s   easy. She’s   some   kind   of   exotic   tropical   lily.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Oh   really?”   said   Dominique.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Yeah,   you   hate   cold   weather,   you   must   be   tropical.”   Every   time   he’d   seen   her   last   winter   she   sooner   or   later   would   wail   in   her   high-pitched   little   voice,   “Why   is   it   always   so   cold??”   Of   course,   as   she   invariably   forgot   to   wear   a   hat   or   properly   bundle   up,   some   of   that   was   her   fault.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   know,   you’d   think   after   living   here   all   your   life   you’d   get   used   to   winter,   little   Miss   I’m-Cold.”   Mary   Rogers   tossed   off. Dominique   pouted.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “So,   Ronnie,   what   do   you   see   yourself   as?”   Mary   said,   turning   to   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   wrinkled   his   brows. “Well,   it’s   a   little difficult. We only   see   out   from   inside   ourselves,   we   don’t   see   ourselves   as   we   really   are,   from   outside,   you   know? We   glean   some   idea   of   what   we   are   from   how   we   act   and   how   others   speak   of   us,   but   we   don’t   see   ourselves. The   stories   always   have   duplicates   astounded   at   seeing   themselves,   but   that’s   not   really   true,   because   we   only   see   our   own   faces   backward   in   mirrors   or   photos,   and   when   we   do   we   say,   ‘Is   that   me??’   If   we   met   a   duplicate   of   ourselves   we   probably   wouldn’t   recognize   it,   because   it   wouldn’t   fit   our mental   self-image.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “This   is   really   really   interesting.”   said   Shannon   softly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Yes,   I   remember   that   Father   Brown   story   of   the   famous   men   who   didn’t   recognize   their   own   silhouettes   in   a   mirror   because they   only   had   a   flattering   idea   of   themselves.”   said   Mary. “So,   Ronnie,   you   seen   a   mirror   lately?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Hey,   I’m   not   that   ugly!”   Ronnie   pretend-sulked.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   look   like   a   grumpy   old    man   who   can’t   find   his   favorite   brand   of   underwear.”   said   Mary. “It   happened. Several   times.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “The   pitfalls   of   managing   a   clothing   store.”   said   Ralph.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   should   try working   in   a   pharmacy.”   piped   Dominique. “You   think   underwear   is   embarrassing—how   about   having   ugly   old   men   ask   you   for   Viagra?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   groaned. Moriel   exploded   laughing. “Yeah,   I   just   have   to   go   off   in   back   so   I   can   laugh.”   Dominique   went   on. “I   mean, these   hideous   old   guys   still   think   they’re   what?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “So,   Ronnie,   what   do   you   see   Mary   as?”   said   Shannon.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Yeah,   what   am   I?”   put   in   Mary.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Um…”   Ronnie   fumbled,   looking   really   at   a   loss. “Something   solid   that   throws   off   sparks. I   mean   you’re   solid,   but   you   toss   of   sparks   of   wit   that   illumine   things.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Mary   laughed. “Ronnie,   you   are   really   nice.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie,   pleased   and   a   little flustered,   looked   around   at   the   crowds. The   slow-churning   clouds   lay   dark   and   somber   in   the   east,   and   out   of   the   south   there   now   rose   an   more   even   and   ominous   darkness,   boding   rain. Ronnie’s   attention   suddenly   focused   on   a   man   who   was   standing   by   the   small   Ferris   wheel   in   the   center,   dead   still,   the   crowd   parting   to   pass   him   as   if   he   was   a   statue. He   was   a   large   man. His   head   was   bald,   but   bore   queer   lines   along   his   skull,   as   if   it   had   been   sliced.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Even   as   Ronnie   saw   him,   the   man   began   to   climb,   up   the   spokes   of   the   unmoving   wheel. The   park   staff   didn’t   seem   to   see   him. The   crowds   didn’t   seem   to   see   him. Only   Ronnie   could.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Hey,   what’s   that   guy   doing   up   there?”   said   Ralph.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What   guy? Oh,   the   one   on   the   Ferris   wheel?”   Mary   exclaimed. “What   the   heck?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   don’t   see   any   guy.”   said   Shannon.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Me   either.”   said   Dominique.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   said   nothing. His   hands clenched   on   the   umbrella   handle   as   the   thunder   growled   steadily   around   them   and   the   first   drops   of   rain,   cold   and   laden   with   doom,   began   to   hit   them. Cornello   stood   now   on   the   very   topmost   frame   of   the   wheel,   his   hands   slowly   rising,   open   to   the   sky. Then   they   moved   and   fluctuated   in   a   circle   that   made   Ronnie’s   skin   crawl,   distorted   and   pregnant   with   unholy   meaning.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             His   fell   voice,   no   longer   human,   rose   hissing   and   roaring   like   flame   into   the   sky   as   he   chanted,   his   hands   stretched   out   above   the   crowd   of   unsuspecting   and   uncaring   people   of   the   earth,   as   he   made   the   evil   sign.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Dragon-born,   dragon-born ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Come   now   and   assume   your   form, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dragon-born,   dragon-born ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Cornello   he   calls   unto   you!” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   skies   cracked   with   lightning. Thunder   snapped   and   crashed   overhead. Raindrops,   wide   and   hard,   dashed   with   tremendous   force   against   ground   and   people,   so   that   each   drop   left   a   welt. People   began   to   stream   under   slides   and   the   food-tents   and   the   dugouts   of   the   nearby   baseball   fields. But   nobody   seemed   to   notice   the   even   more   ominous   motion   that   was   growing   in   the   crowds.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Here   and   there,   among   the   clustered   careless   teens   with   their   empty   hearty   laughter,   one   or   another   would   suddenly   collapse,   writhing,   smoke   coming   up   from   them. And   as   they   writhed   they   grew   larger. Ronnie   whirled,   clenching   the   umbrella   like   a   sword,   as   a   crash   like   shattering   glass   sounded   behind   him. Every light   on   the   dragon-ride   had   exploded   at   once. There   was   a   shattering   clang   as   all   the   segmented   cars   slammed   together,   as   if   drawn   by   magnets. Ronnie   glanced   around. The   prostrate   teenagers   were   elongating,   distending. Their   companions   were   drawing   back   in   horrified   silence. Already   the   first   screams   were   mounting   up. The   children   in   the   roller   coaster   looked   down   nervously   as   their   compartments   began   to   close   over;   and   then   with   shrieks   and   horrid   gargles   they   were   sucked   inside,   as   the   dragon-coaster’s   locomotive   stretched,   turned   its’   head,   and   opened   eyes   of   crimson   flame. It   burped.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Dragons. All   over   the   carnival,   they   were   turning   into   dragons.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Gouts   of   flame   erupted   everywhere. Stampedes   of   people   rushed   in   twenty   directions. Some   fled   into   the   playscape;   but   out   of   the   ground,   shedding   dirt   and   wood   chips   everywhere,   there   rose   above   them   a   huge   monster   like   a   segmented   black   worm,   and   in   its’   round   eyes   black   fire   burned,   but   the   teeth   were   broad   and   white,   and   it   lashed   about   a   long   black   tongue   like   a   prehensile   whip,   drawing   people   up   to   its’   mouth   and   then   chomping   down. The   carnival   was   crawling   with   dragons.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Still   upon   the   Ferris   wheel   stood   the   Father   of   Dragons,   and   there   was   satisfaction   in   his   big   smiling   face   as   he   gazed   upon   his   children.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   umbrella   in   the   hand   of   Ronnie   felt   warm.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “We   gotta   run,   we   gotta   do   something!”   Moriel   was   yelling.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Don’t   run! They’d   be   after   us   in   a   sec!”   Ralph   hollored   back. “Let’s   just…creep   slowly   and   carefully   away.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   said   nothing. His   feet   were   planted   like   roots. There   was   a   gleam   like   red   light   in   his   eyes,   as   if   they   reflected   the   fires   of   the new   dragons   that   now   crawled   and   coiled   about   the   rides,   occasionally   chewing   up   a   metal   bar   or   letting   off   a   jet   of   flame. The   umbrella   in   his   hand   was   lifted   like   a   sword. And   the   tip   of   it   was   now   a   luminous   blue.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Oh   my   God. Oh   my   God.”   Dominique   was   repeating   over   and   over.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Ronnie? Ronnie,   what   should   we   do?”   Shannon’s   voice   was   tight,   close   to   panic.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   should   get   behind   me.”   Ronnie   said   in   a   very   quiet   voice.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   girls   went   still   at   the   suppressed   power   in   that voice,   looking   fearfully   at   him. And   at   the   umbrella   in   his   hand.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   am   the   Hill   of   the   Road.”   he   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   coaster-dragon   stopped   gnawing   on   its’   tracks   and   fixed   them   with   eyes   of   flame. Another   lizard,   that   had   once   been   a   careless   crazy   and   earth-minded   girl   Ronnie   knew   from   the   beach,   stopped   in   the   act   of   lumbering   past. The   Tire   Dragon,   now   happily   burning   down   the   playscape,   swivelled   it’s   segmented   head.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Blue   lightning   was   running   up   the   umbrella.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             With   a   roar   of   power   Ronnie   Wendy   whirled   the   umbrella. There   was   a   flashing   boom   and   a   blue   fist   of   light   threw   the   beach-girl-dragon   into   the   dugout,   crushing   it   to   gravel. He   pointed   it   like   a   sword   as   the   Coaster   Dragon   spat   a   stream   of   molten   metal,   and   blue   power   cooled   the   metal   instantly,   so   that   a   flowing   sheet   of   metal   crashed   into   the   ground. Now   the   Tire   Dragon   was   spitting   balls   of   fire,   but   Ronnie   swung   the   umbrella   now   encased   in   a   nimbus   of   blue   light,   and   swatted   them   like   tennis   balls   to   exploded   against   the   other   dragons   and   blow   great   craters   in   the   street   and   fields.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Follow!”   Ronnie   thundered. “We   must   reach   the   Churches!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             He   wielded   the   umbrella   like   a   mighty   sword. A   blade   of   rushing   fire   extended   from   it,   swinging   and   slashing   among   the   dragons. Though   it   rebounded   from   their   scales,   the   dragons   howled   at   its’   touch   and   gave   back. Streams   of   white,   and   green,   and   yellow   fire   poured. Ronnie   whirled   the   umbrella   of   power   around   and   around,   parrying   fire-blasts   and   deflecting   the   streams. The   Tire   Dragon   was   before   him,   suddenly,   mouth   opened,   fire   roaring   forth. Ronnie   shouted   aloud   as   he   suddenly   thrust. A   punch   of   blue   light   sent   the   Tire   Dragon   up   in   shards,   bits   of   tires   flying   in   every   direction. At   this   the   dragons   drew back,   and   Ronnie   raced   out   of   the   ring.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             His   friends   hurried   after   him,   dazed   and   numb,   like   folk   in   a   living   nightmare. The   dragons   stared   balefully   after   them. Pushing   his   friends   along,   Ronnie   bright   up   the   rear,   the   umbrella   flickering   blue   in his   hand. They   rounded   the   old   brick   factory   on   the   corner   and   hastened   up   Main. Sudden   steams   and   a   dragonish   scream   announced   that   one   dragon   had   tried   to   ford   Mad   River. Behind   them   came   the   sliding   scrape   of   dozens   of   dragons   on   asphalt. They   were   following.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Cornello   knows   we   fled.”   he   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             For   a   wonder   nobody   was   asking   questions. The   girls   were   apparently   in   some   kind   of   shock   and   had   to   be   led   by   the   hand,   and   then   Dominique   fainted   and   Moriel   had   to   carry   her,   although   he   soon   asked   Ralph   for   help   as   she   was   heavier   than   she   looked. Mary   was   quiet,   looking   around   constantly   but   otherwise   all   right.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What   just   happened?”   she   finally   asked.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “We’re   being   chased   by   dragons,   of   course.”   said   Ronnie,   batting   a   fireball   with   the   umbrella. “Faster.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Not   what   I meant   and   you   know   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   sighed   and   shot   a   blue   thunderbolt   at   a   dragon   that   was   pressing   too   close. It   squealed   and   dropped   back. “A   great   sign   appeared   in   the   sky,   a   dragon   with   seven   heads,   and   upon   those   heads   ten   horns,   and   upon   them   seven   diadems. And   the   dragon   went   off   to   make   war   on   the   woman   and   her   offspring.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “That’s   the   Devil,   isn’t   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Not   so   allegorical   as   you’d   think. That   dragon   has   lived   here   in   Winsted,   possessing   a   man   named   Cornello,   until   he   took   that   body   for   his   own   and   ate   that   soul. And   he   begot   many   children   here,   and   today   he   seems   to   have   called   them   all   awake. And   they’re   starting   to   catch   up,”   he   added,   blasting   a   moat   across   Main   St. Sirens   were   wailing   now. “Run!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   broke   into   a   stumbling   trot   up   the   final   part,   the   Episcopalian   church   of   St. James   above   them,   nearest   of   the   Five   Churches. The   empty   niche   over   the   door   looked   mournfully   down   at   them   as   they   mounted   the   steps. Ronnie   warded   a   blast   of   flame   by   holding   the   umbrella   over   them;   it   flew   open   of   itself   and   a   blue-light   shield   repelled   the   fire.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “The   door’s   locked.”   puffed   Ralph.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   smote   the   doors   with   the   Umbrella.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             A   blue   glow   rippled   through   them. There   was   a   series   of   sliding   clicks   and   the   doors   opened. From   down   the   street   came   explosions   of   bursting   police   cars,   and   sirens   wailed   into   nothing. Gunshots   and   eerie   squeals   followed,   and   the   roaring   laughter   of   the   dragons. But   Ronnie   and   his   friends   stumbled   into   the   church,   and   the   doors   shut,   and   all   sound   ceased.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “They   can   still   get   in   here,   can’t   they?”   said   Ralph.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   think   stone   would   keep   out   fire.”   said   Mary. “And   the   roof’s   metal,   isn’t   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Metal   melts,   and   stone   cracks,   if   the   fire   is   hot   enough.”   said   Ronnie. “But   I   don’t   think   it   will   come   to   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             There   was   the   sound   of   a   great   body   scraping   along   the   outside   of   the   walls. Stone   shuddered   faintly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   think   if   anything   threatens   these   Churches,   very   strange   things   will   happen.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Bell   Light   was   playing   at   that   moment   on   Wintergreen   Island. It   was   quiet   down   here   most   days,   for   most   of   the   cabins   and   lake   houses   around   the   south   end   had   been   either   destroyed   or   damaged,   and   only   here   and   there   were   folk   rich   enough   to   hire   developers   to   clean   up   the   wreckage   and   rebuild. But   she   paid   this   no   mind   today. Forest   had   left   Andy   Engine   and   his   collection   of   matchbox   cars   he   called   “Superland   Characters”   downstairs,   and   taking   advantage   of   him   being   outside   in   the   summer   evening   to   watch   the   thunderstorm,   she   was   playing   with   them   in   the   living   room. They   all   had   superpowers,   according   to   Forest,   such   as   Guppy   and   Mike   O’Sheelee   the   airplanes   who   could   call   up   gales,   or   Mrs. Stansager   the   green   ferryboat   who   had   water   powers. Tame,   considering   the   things   that   walked   in   real   life,   but   both   were   still   revelling   in   their   newly   recovered   memories   and   found   the   old   fancies   relaxing.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   thunderstorm   that   had    been   hanging   in   the   air   for   hours   as   darkness   drew   on,   was   beginning   at   last   to   break. Bell   squealed   with   delight   and   raced   outside,   laughing   as   she   felt   the   rain:   running   around   in   pouring   rain   was   one   of   her   favorite   activities.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Suddenly   she   felt   very   cold,   and   queer,   and   musty;   as   if   for   a   split   second   her   hands   were   of   ancient   damp   wood   and   her   body   of   old   stone   and   shingle;   and   then   her   sight   cleared.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             She   stood   alone   in   a   place   of   crazy   branching   timbers,   dark   with   age   and   dry   as   dust,   dim   and   lit   only   by   flecks   of   light   coming   through   chinks,   perhaps,   or   from   some   high   and   secret   window. She   stood   on   a   sort   of   catwalk   of   planks,   a   rail   or   rough   2   x   4s   running   along   it   on   the   right,   a   line   of   ancient   light   bulbs   strung   above   it. To   either   side   a   cross-braced   floor   of   thin   plank   fell   down   into   darkness,   and   beams   and   joists   and   braces   ran   about   like   a   spiderweb   above   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             She   stood   beneath   the   roof   of   St. Joseph’s   Church.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Bell   had   no   idea   how   she   knew   this. She   simply   and   utterly   certain. The   floor   vibrated   under   her   and   the   braces   all   around   creaked   and   muttered,   as   if   some   great   burden   were   pressing   on   the   mighty   roof. Bell   put   out   her   hand   and   grasped   the   wood.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Dragons   were   crawling   up   the   stone   face   of   the   church. She   saw   them,   coiling   like   huge   and   abominable   snakes   around   the   spire,   and   crawling   overhead   along   the   roof   ridge,   and   sniffing   at   the   shut   doors. She   saw   dragon-faces   beside   the   gargoyles   of   St. James,   one   coiled   about   the   tower   and   trying   to   crush   it   like   a   boa   constrictor. Dragons   wound   about   the   battlements   of   New   Baptist,   and   made   the   roof   of   the   Methodist   tower   groan. They   were   climbing   on   the   steeple   towers   of   Old   Baptist.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Fire   streamed   against   the   steeple   of   St. Joseph’s,   and   fell   back,   foiled   by   the   slate   shingles. Bell   screamed   with   pain. It   was   as if   the   old   buildings   were   part   of   her,   or   she   was   part   of   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             She   acted   by   instinct. As   the   dragons   began   to   batter,   hammering   roof   and   wall   with   tail   and   flame,   she   made   the   churches   indestructible.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             It   wasn’t   as   simple   as   it   sounds. She   simply   flinched   and   clenched   her   muscles   as   if   to   repel   a   blow;   and   she   felt   stone   settle   and   become   denser,   cement   grip   unbreakably,   wood   clench   like   a   muscle,   shingles   fuse,   and   the   dragons’   blows   and   dragons’   flames   rebounded   from   them   like   snakes   slapped   against   a   rock. She   heard   their   squeals   and   howls   of   pain.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             A   sudden   panicky   ferocity   seized   Bell;   like   when   she   fond   a   tick   on   her   leg   and   practically   tore   a   hole   in   herself   getting   it   off;   or   when   she   heard   mice   in   the   walls   and   wanted   them   out,   wanted   them    gone;   so   now   she   felt,   and   so   now   she   wanted   the   dragons   off   her   five   huge   bodies   of   stone   and   wood.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Begone!” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">   she   screamed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             A   great   peace   fell   over   her. The   tick   was   out. The   mice   dropped   dead. The   invaders   were   repulsed. She   let   go   of   the   handrail   and   stepped   back,   into   the   living   room   of   her   house. she’d   better   put   the   cars   back;   Forest   might   be   mad   if   he   came   in   and   caught   her   playing with   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Was   I   dreaming?”   she   wondered. “If   I   was,   that   was   a   really   weird   dream. I’ll   tell   Forest   when   I   find   him.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   Wendy   felt   St. James   come   alive.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             It   was   hard   to   tell   how   he   knew   but   he   did. It   was   as   if   stone   and   carving,   pew   and   window   suddenly   shifted,   were   part   of   an   entity,   were   suffused   with   power. He   raced   to   the   front   door   and   ran   outside.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The outer   wall   was   glowing. A   clear   white-purple   light,   barely   perceptible,   was   raying   through   the   yellowed   fieldstones   and   the   mortar   in   between. The   sea-green   metalled   roof   seemed   to   shine,   although   the   storm   overhead   was   now   so   dark   with   the   night   it   seemed   like   a   wall   of   doom. The   eyes   of   the   gargoyles   were   eyes   of   fire,   and   their   open   mouths   spewed   not   water   but   light.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   dragons   felt   it,   too. They   stopped   their   curious   sniffing   and   crawling,   suddenly   remembering   what   they   were   here   for. Destroying   flame   blasted   from   mouths. Huge   tails   smashed   like   the   clubs   of   giants   against   the   stone   walls. Ronnie   threw   open   the   umbrella   to   repel   the   fire,   then   peered   out,   ready   to   battle   against   the   dragons   in   defense   of   the   fortresses.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             He   didn’t   have   to. Dragons   were   nursing   bruised   tails   and   sneezing   from   misfired   flames. And   the   church   stood,   unharmed,   not   a   crack,   not   a   burn.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Suddenly   a   blinding   glow broke   from   the   stone   church. Every   rock   in   the   wall   was   as   bright   as   sunrise   clouds. From   the   mouths   of   the   gargoyles   beams   of   pure   opaque   white   shone   forth,   fading   out   a   good   ten   yards   from   the   walls.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Dragons   were   catapulted through   the   air. Winged   or   wingless,   for   those   few   minutes   they   all   flew. Bright   shapes   passed   like   thunderbolts   against   the   sea-dark   sky. The   other   churches   had   shed   their   dragons   as   well,   it   seemed. The   storm   shattered   overhead,   lightning   following   the   falling   dragons   and   their   screams   mingling   with   the   ringing   of   the   thunder. Down   poured   a   hail   of   harsh   rain. Blades   of   jagged   white   broke   the   skies   apart,   only   to   seal   together   the   next   moment.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   went   back   inside. They   were   all   huddled   in   the   pews,   the   unnatural   light   shining   in   sudden   vivid   color   in   at   the   stained   glass   windows,   illuminating   the   solemn   mournful   figures   of   what   had   to   be   the   gloomiest   Risen   Christ   and   angels   that   the   others   had   ever   seen,   gazing   dismally   from   the   mysterious   pale   window.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “It’s   over.”   he   said   blankly. “The   Churches   just   shed   the   dragons.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Whaaa…?”   said   Mary,   but   nobody   pressed   for   an   explanation.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Where   are   all   the   police?”   Shannon   said   as   they   went   outside,   looking   down   the   street. Smoke   still   rose   from   the   burning   carnival,   and   the   tall   old   townhouse   block   on   the   left,   and   the   factory   on   the   right,   all   looked   like   they’d   been   shelled,   black   and   blasted. The   huge   Bartlett   pears   that   stood   in   front   of   the   former   were   sere   and   leafless,   half-consumed. A   couple   of   red-black   skeleton   cars   lay   upside   down   in   the   torn   pavement. Traffic   was   starting   to   back   up. A   big   ditch   had   been   blasted   across   the   street.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   think   they   all   went   to   supper.”   said   Ronnie   dryly. “Someone   else’s   supper.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   hope   they’re   indigestible.”   said   Mary.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   waited   in   the   doorway   for   the   storm   to   let   up,   as   sirens   sounded   once   more   and   fire   trucks   showed   up,   state   police   and   remnants   of   local   police   collecting   like   swarming   wasps. Ronnie   felt   it   wiser   to   stay   out   of   sight   for   a   while   and   made   them   shut   the   door.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “After   all,”   he   said   to   Shannon’s   objections,   “are   they   going   to   believe   the   truth?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             When   the   rain   slackened   they   headed   up   to   St. Joseph’s,   the   umbrella   open   and   held   by   Ronnie. It   seemed   quite   plain   and   boring   now,   a   common   umbrella,   but   the   girls   looked   askance   at   it   and   preferred   to   walk   in   the   rain. Mary   accepted   its’   cover. They   shut   the   church   door   and   heard   the   bolts   click   back   into   place,   and   then   walked   back   up   Main   to   the   Catholic   church. Police   had   yellow   tape   everywhere   and   were   putting   up   DETOUR   signs. It   was   a   quiet   and   somber   group   that   said   their   goodbyes   and   went   their   many   ways.

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Forest,”   said   Bell,   “how   do   you   tell   if   you   dreamed   something   or   if   it   happened? I   mean,   you’re   the   dreamer.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   leaned   on   the   glass   door   and   stared   out   at   the   grey   lake   through   the   oak’s   leaning   branches,   leaving   greasy   nose-prints   and   breath   circles. The   storm   was   rolling   up   and   passing,   leaving   the   last   remains   of   daylight   to   brighten   the   air. Rain   made   the   waves   look   all   pitted   and   dotted. “You   wake   up.”   he   said   at   last.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “No,   I   mean,   if   one   moment   you   remember   playing   with—my   toys—and   next   moment   you   remember   being   inside   a   church’s   roof   and—then   you’re   back   in   the   room. I   mean,   I    must   have   fallen   asleep.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   wake   up.”   said   Forest   stubbornly. “If   you’re   dreaming,   you   wake   up. We   are   under   the   Road—weird   things   are   supposed   to   happen   to   us.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   felt   them.”   she   said. “I   felt   the   Five   Churches   inside   me. Like   I   was   in   them. Like   I   was   them.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What   did   you   do?”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   called   awake   the   Churches   to   repel   a   host   of   dragons.”   she   answered.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   weren’t   dreaming.”   he   said   curtly,   and   resumed   staring   out   at   the   lake.

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