Sam took a step back, staring down at his chest. The armor had attached itself to its proper location on the left side of his chest. No wonder Demetrius hadn’t bothered to explain any of this; the body armor pretty much did all the work. Intrigued, Sam continued to bring each piece close enough for it to attach itself to his body suit.

  Within minutes, the scout attire was fully assembled, and Sam had to admit he felt pretty cool. He tested its limits, swinging his arms and stretching his legs out, and found that the body armor was less restrictive that his own clothes. He swung the cloak over his shoulders and fastened it tight, pulling the hood up over his head. The cloak was thick, but, much like the rest of his outfit, it felt oddly light. He grabbed the travelling pack from his bed and swung it over his shoulder, before fastening the holster around his waist. It hung low on his hips, and was made of a sturdy material he did not recognize. He was looking himself over in the mirror when he heard footsteps beyond the door.

  “Sam.” It was Demetrius.

  “I’m just about ready,” he said as he opened the door.

  Demetrius examined Sam, taking in everything from the placement of his armor to the position of his holster. Then he took in a deep breath and sighed.

  “You know, you look a lot like your father,” he said. The sorrow in his voice was back, the same kind of pain that was always present when he spoke about Rylan. “He would be proud of you Sam, I’m sure of it.”

  Sam stood there, unsure of what to say. He was relieved to get a compliment like that from the one who had known his father best. It was the next best thing to hearing such words straight from his father’s lips.

  “Thank you, Demetrius,” Sam said.

  There was an awkward silence that followed, more awkward for Sam than Demetrius, who seemed to be lost in thought.

  “Yes, well then,” Demetrius said. “I will see you downstairs.” He handed Sam one of the M9s. “You will need this.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to forget that,” Sam said, clearing his throat. He took the wand and held it firmly in his hand. The handle was warm from where Demetrius had been holding it.

  “No, that would not be wise,” Demetrius said, then turned and walked down the hallway.

  Sam looked back down at the wand. Holding such a weapon made him realize even more that he absolutely had no idea what he was doing. The one thought that kept running through his mind was I hope someone doesn’t shoot me with this, because that would be extremely disappointing. Not to mention a bit embarrassing.

  Demetrius’s words echoed in his head. He would be proud of you Sam, I’m sure of it. HE WOULD BE PROUD. He … my father, would be proud of me. Sam stared down at the gun again. He was gripping the weapon so tightly that the tips of his fingers had turned white. Sam straightened his shoulders and relaxed his grip until the gun felt less awkward in his hand.

  He turned the wand over in his palm, inspecting the weapon. There was a small, black switch above the trigger engraved with two letters: S and K. There was no doubt what that stood for, Stun and Kill. The switch was set to S, much to Sam’s relief. He slid the M9 into the holster, expecting it to feel odd there, but instead it felt right. He gave one last look around the room, wondering if he would ever see it again.

  ***

  A light breeze greeted Sam as he walked across the grounds. The waterfall rustled in the background as he stared up at the massive moon looming overhead. Demetrius, Travis, and Tim were waiting for him under the Wisteria Arbor.

  “Best of luck, Master Dalcome,” Tim said, holding out his hand. “Be safe, and keep the faith, sir.” The words were edged with pride, as if he was doing not only his part, but his duty.

  “Thanks, Tim,” Sam said. “And not just for the last few days, but for everything.”

  “Well of course—”

  “No, I really mean it,” Sam insisted, holding firmly to Tim’s hand. “Thank you for taking care of my home … and its memories. It’s all I have now, and that’s only possible because of you. I can’t tell you what that means to me. And to my parents, too.”

  Tim’s smile faded, and his eyes grew very red and glassy. He looked down for a moment, staring at their interlocked hands.

  “Thank you, Master Dalcome,” he said, his voice breaking just a bit. “It is an honor and a privilege to serve.”

  Sam turned to watch as Tim made his way back into the courtyard. He hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw the caretaker.

  “Well done, Master Dalcome,” Travis teased, patting Sam on the shoulder.

  “Shut up,” Sam muttered.

  “I’m kidding, you did a good thing,” Travis said.

  Sam shrugged and gazed up at the stars. “I just needed him to know, just in case.”

  “Yeah, about that …” Travis’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright in the moonlight. “I don’t regret it, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

  “You know, coming here,” he said, “I don’t regret it.”

  Sam smiled. Things had been utterly crazy since they got to Haven. Their encounter with the dragon alone was more than enough to make anyone second-guess themselves about coming along. But not Travis.

  “I just never want you to think I regret my decision,” he went on. “No matter what happens out there.”

  Sam gave a hesitant nod and felt his stomach tighten. He didn’t like what Travis was implying. Sam needed Travis to be the positive one. It was the way their friendship worked.

  “We’re going to be okay, Trav,” Sam said.

  Travis nodded in agreement. “Sure, of course,” he said with a shrug. “Of course we are.”

  From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Hollister begin to glow. Both boys looked to the staff, and then they heard it.

  A soft, mechanical rasp, hidden somewhere amongst the stars. Travis leaned closer to Sam.

  “Do you hear that,” he whispered.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Whatever it is, it sounds …” Travis paused.

  “Angry,” Sam said.

  “Yeah … angry.”

  The sound was growing louder, deeper, like a thunderstorm descending down upon them.

  “It’s time,” Demetrius said. His voice was calm as he gazed toward the sky. “They are here.”

  Chapter 23

  Sam and Travis gazed intently at the warship as it made its final descent. Thick, smoky clouds parted, giving way to the black and green panels that covered the ship’s underbelly.

  “Man,” Travis gasped as he pointed up at the ship. “That … is … freaking cool!” The aircraft was diamond-shaped with bright white running lights that flashed erratically around its base.

  As the ship drew closer, Sam’s eyes moved across the fuselage to the outer wings. The ship was long, but compact. There was no wasted space or visible seams, like it was constructed from one piece of metal. The wings were rather small compared to the overall size of the ship, and there were no noticeable flaps, ailerons, or vertical stabilizer that Sam could see.

  Sam thought about pinching himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He looked over at Travis, whose eyes were practically bulging out of his head. Sam knew that at this very moment Travis was living his Sci-Fi dream. Heck, they both were. No movie could ever compare to what they had witnessed over the last week or so. There was magic in the world, there was life on other planets, and now they were getting their first glimpse of alien technology.

  Sam and Travis jumped back as jets of white gas burst from the exhaust ports beneath the ship. The warplane’s landing gear disengaged, deploying three skid pads from its underbelly and locking them into place. The Tager stood like a dark void against the horizon. There was no sign of the bright moon or the faintest sheen from the stars above on the ships surface. It was as black as the Death Sword Sam carried on his back.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing, or … not seeing?” Travis asked.

  “Yeah,” Sam said, “there’s no light reflecting off the ship.”

  The spinning turbines hissed as the engines powered down, releasing a thick, gray vapor into the night air. Suddenly, everything grew very quiet.

  Demetrius stepped forward, stopped, and then looked back over his shoulder. “Wait here until I give you the signal,” he said.

  Sam and Travis gazed slack-jawed up at Demetrius and nodded. Demetrius then turned and took a step forward, ready to greet their new visitor.

  “What’s the signal?” Travis whispered to Sam.

  Their eyes met and Sam shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Travis frowned. “Well, that’s awesome.” He sighed and turned back to the ship.

  The door of the ship struck the ground with a resounding thud, and Sam’s body went stiff.

  No one moved, not even Demetrius, who still stood resolute in front of them with Hollister at his side. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle breeze rippling through the tall blades of lavender grass. All eyes were focused on the ship.

  Then, Sam’s eyes quickly moved to the small window on the side of the hull, where he could see the silhouette of someone with a very large head. He bit his lip and waited. Each second felt like an eternity until finally, a tall figure dressed in a black flight suit and helmet moved through the doorway.

  “Whoa,” Travis gasped. “Is that the pilot?”

  The pilot stood there for a moment looking at the scene before him. Then he reached up to the side of his helmet and pressed something Sam could not see. The dark visor that covered his face turned a transparent green. Again, the pilot scanned the area.

  “Can he not see us?” Travis whispered.

  “I don’t know, it doesn’t look like it,” Sam replied.

  Demetrius looked back to Sam. “No one can see us as long as we stay behind the Arbor.”

  The Arbor didn’t look like anything special. Nothing about it screamed magical artifact or anything, but maybe that was the point.

  The pilot inched his way down the ramp and withdrew a small pistol that was attached to his hip.

  “Demetrius Lore,” he said in a stern, synthesized voice.

  “Say it,” Demetrius said loudly.

  The pilot turned and pointed his gun in the direction of Demetrius’s voice. He stood scanning the general area and then finally spoke, “War, because we must. Not because we hate the enemy.”

  Demetrius nodded to himself and stepped from the Arbor, past the threshold and into the open field.

  “Finish it,” the pilot demanded, turning his gun to Demetrius properly now.

  “Because we love the land we swore to defend,” Demetrius said.

  “And who spoke these words?” the pilot asked.

  Demetrius turned and looked over at Sam, his stoic façade giving way to the sadness he kept buried inside.

  “Rylan Dalcome, on the eve of the Great War,” he replied.

  The pilot holstered his weapon, then lifted his arm and spoke into his gauntlet. “Majesty, this is Valkyrie, we have located the assets. Demetrius Lore,” he said, turning back to the Keeper. “My name is Reego True-Nor. I am the commander of Valkyrie squadron and I’m here to take you to the border of Shadowfay.”

  Demetrius turned and looked back at Sam and Travis again, then nodded toward the pilot.

  Travis nudged Sam in his side. “Sam, I think that’s the signal.”

  Together they moved across the Arbor and joined Demetrius in the open field. The pilot moved down the ramp and onto the ground. Demetrius stepped forward to greet him.

  “Welcome, Commander,” Demetrius said. “True-Nor, any relation to Ramer True-Nor, the Elvin General?”

  “Yes, sir, he was my father,” Reego said.

  “Was?”

  “Yes, sir, he passed away some time ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Commander, he was a good soldier,” Demetrius said.

  “He died doing what he loved, sir, flying,”

  Demetrius nodded. “Let’s hope we’re all that fortunate,” he said, then looked over at Sam and Travis. “Reego True-Nor, this is Sam Dalcome and Travis Martin.”

  Reego looked down at the boys. “Mr. Dalcome, Mr. Martin.”

  Sam held out his hand. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

  Reego stepped forward and took Sam’s hand. “It’s an honor, Mr. Dalcome, and a surprise. We all feared the worse for you and your family after the Great War. I’m glad to see the rumors were just that, rumors.”

  Sam gave a half-smile. He didn’t think he would ever get use to people thinking he had been dead for the last thirteen years. What do you say to that? Surprise?

  Travis stepped forward and held out his hand. “I really like your ship,” he said with a grin.

  “Thank you, Mr. Martin.” Reego shook Travis’s hand. “She’s fast, and without a doubt the most advanced warship in the fleet.”

  Travis released Reego’s hand and stared up at the Tager again. “Cool,” he murmured.

  Sam stared at the pilot and wondered what he looked like under his helmet. He assumed the pilot looked like most men except for the ears. Much like Lyra the Elvin princess had back home. After all, Sam had originally thought she was just a regular teenage girl when she had moved in next door. It wasn’t until she had tucked her hair behind her pointed ear that he even realized she wasn’t human.

  “Reego, what of Vallen and Holly?” Demetrius asked.

  Sam looked over at Travis. Just the sound of their names brought a smile to his face.

  “They should be awaiting our arrival near the border of Shadowfay,” Reego replied.

  “Looks like we’re getting the band back together,” Travis said, nudging Sam again. Sam was glad to hear that they would all be reunited sooner rather than later.

  Reego looked down at his gauntlet. “If you’re ready, sir, we should be leaving so that we remain on schedule.”

  Demetrius looked over at Sam and Travis. “We’re ready, right?” he asked.

  Sam nodded his head in agreement. “I’m ready,” he said quickly, sounding more confident than he felt. Cowering and wishing this was all over was not very brave.

  Travis, on the other hand, gave Demetrius an enthusiastic thumbs- up. “Let’s do this!”

  Chapter 24

  Bjorn La Moss groaned. His knees ached as he made his way down the tight spiral staircase of the castle. The damp air wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, and the wall-mounted torches gave him little comfort as he strained his aging eyes to see. Reaching the bottom floor, Bjorn made his way to the study and peered up at the massive doors. He sighed and shook his head in frustration.

  “Not today,” he mumbled under his breath. “Not today.”

  Bjorn leaned forward and placed a frail hand upon each door. He took in a deep breath and pushed. A low guttural groan escaped through his gritted teeth. He could feel the pressure building inside his head as his feet slid backward across the floor. Bjorn stopped momentarily and readjusted his feet before pushing again with all his might. With his back stiff and his arms shaking, he finally inched the doors of the old Vampire castle apart.

  “Yesss,” Bjorn grunted, drudging forward.

  To his relief, he saw a small sliver of light seeping through the crack of the doors. Bjorn put one foot in front of the other, driving the massive doors back one step at a time. With another gasp and final push the doors swung back against the wall.

  Light burst from the windows into the dim corridor behind him. He had done it. He had defeated the blasted doors again! Exhausted, the old man leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. His breath came fast, and for moment he saw black spots, even though his eyes were shut.

  “Not today,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Not. Today.” And like a great warrior who had just conquered his enemy, Bjorn stood proudly and relished the moment. Then he broke down in a fit of wheezing and coughing.

  “Is that you, Bjorn?” a smooth voice called from within the study.

  Bjorn raised a hand to try to speak and then coughed some more before finally clearing his throat.

  “Yes, my lord. I bring news.” He wheezed and began making his way across the room.

  Valteen’s study was the size of a small cathedral. It was lavishly decorated with cream colored walls accented in olive greens and deep purples. Decorative columns and a hand-painted celling capsulated the ornate collection of fine art and antiques that Valteen stored here.

  Valteen stared out the chilled windows of the castle. Snowflakes the size of a child’s hand drifted in the wind, dusting the village’s rooftops, bridges, and walkways below.

  “Thirteen days,” he mused, folding his arms in front of him. “For thirteen days it has snowed. What do you make of that?”

  Bjorn looked up at the window. The world outside looked dangerously cold, yet tranquil, as if Mother Nature herself had cleansed the kingdom, and the city of La’Shay was shiny and new again. Bjorn liked it better the way it was before. Snow was like anything else that didn’t last—it was only here long enough to make a mess and give people a false sense of reality. He liked the world lived in.

  La’Shay wasn’t just where he lived, it was who he was. And he certainly wasn’t shiny and new, not anymore. Besides, he didn’t like change. There was too much of that going on already. Bjorn shifted his gaze to Valteen and sneered with disgust.

  “I think it’s messy, my lord,” he said in a weak, watery voice.

  “You don’t like snow, Bjorn?” Valteen asked. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned, then glanced over at the ancient human. Bjorn’s breathing was still labored, and his hands trembled as he tried to steady himself. The man looked absolutely dreadful. Especially if you knew Bjorn’s past, and Valteen did.

  Valteen’s grin faded. It pained him to see Bjorn this way. Not because he actually felt sorry for the man. He didn’t. Bjorn was human; it was expected. But every year that Bjorn grew older marked another year for Valteen without his beloved Eliana. Bjorn was a constant reminder of a better time, a time when Valteen had been truly happy. When he and his wife ruled the Vampire kingdom together as one powerful force.

 

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