Chapter 4
The alarm clock on Rayen's bedside table beeped loudly.
Rayen rolled over and grumbled. He had set the alarm for 10:30, because he was up so late. But he still felt wiped. Then again, he was always like this when he first woke up. Breakfast would probably help. Rayen decided to vent his anger by slamming his hand on the snooze button as hard as he could.
The sound of snapping plastic startled him. He looked at the clock, only to see that his blow had split it into two! He looked at his hand in awe. He had done that with an open hand! Now that he was fully awake, Rayen was beginning to appreciate the after-effects of his transformation. Another of the after-effects hung in its sheath on a hook near the door. Rayen got out of bed, dressed, then walked over to the hook and pulled out the sword.
The blade was of the finest steel, chased with silver. The crosspieces were in the shape of a golden eagle with its wings outspread, the feathers of its wings and tail cast in bronze, as if the dawn's first light had just begun to grace their plumes. The eagle's fierce eye was appropriately a miniscule fire opal, its talons equally tiny diamonds. The hilt was also of gold, studded with four large gems, a ruby, a star sapphire, a blue topaz, and an emerald. Rayen supposed it remained afterwards to replace the one he lost during the fight. He remembered what it was like during Dragoon form, bigger and more grandiose in every aspect, and the eagle had become a golden dragon, roaring its fury to his foes.
Rayen slid the sword back in its sheath, opened the door and started to walk down the stairs. He smelled something cooking in the kitchen, and he suddenly realized something. He was hungry. No, I mean REALLY hungry. Since his shift at work was at 6, he hadn't had time to fix himself a very filling dinner. The snack he had after he came home had done nothing to curb his hunger.
Rayen walked into the kitchen and let out a low whistle. There were about a dozen plates stacked high with pancakes, French toast, bacon, hash browns, and many other dishes. His father was there waiting for him. He smiled at Rayen's awed face.
"I thought you might be hungry."
"Thanks, Dad."
Rayen grabbed the bottle of apple juice from the fridge and poured himself a glass. Getting some of everything, (except the eggs, Rayen hated eggs) he sat down and started eating like a half-starved animal. Mr. O'Connor chuckled. Rayen stopped to breathe (hey, give the guy a break, he's 17), swallowed, took a long sip of apple juice, then turned to his father.
"You going back to work today?"
"Nope. One of the reasons I stayed so late yesterday."
"Good."
Rayen resumed shoveling the food down his esophagus. His father chuckled again, then sat down and filled his own plate. They spent the morning eating and talking, all their worries and cares seemingly miles away.
Meanwhile in the sixty-somethingth floor of some huge skyscraper---
A man sat at a huge mahogany desk, signing an important document of some kind. There was a knock on the door. The man looked up in irritation.
"Come in."
"Sir, we've just gotten word that Corain and his group of specimens have been killed."
"Corain? Too bad, I liked the man. He was so willing to have himself turned into something inhuman. Must have believed he would gain power. He did, but it was obviously not enough. Where'd his portal open?"
"In a suburb about 45 miles west of here."
"I see. So either someone in that area has some very high firepower, or our esteemed psychics were correct in their prediction of the return of the Dragoons."
"Excuse me, sir, but don't you find this prediction of the future a little unbelievable?"
"Their mental prowess was created by the same magic that changed Corain into the blue monstrosity. I think we can trust their visions."
"Sir, the scientists prefer to call it-"
"I could not care less what the scientists call it."
"Yes, sir. What should we do about the psychics?"
"Arrange for them to pass away in their sleep. Messing with the future is a risky business."
"Yes, sir."
"One more thing. Send headhunters (not the kind you're thinking of, the kind that go out and search for people who need jobs) all over the continent, asking about Dragoons. If you find any, hire them immediately. Make them an offer they can't refuse."
"Yes, sir. Would it do me any good to ask why?"
"No."
The man swiveled around in his chair to look out the window. The assistant stood there, perplexed. The man turned around and gave the assistant an irritated glance.
"What are you waiting for? Now!"
"Yes, sir!"
He opened the door and hurried out. The man at the desk returned to the view, contemplating his next move.
The plot thickens...
The alarm clock on Rayen's bedside table beeped loudly.
Rayen rolled over and grumbled. He had set the alarm for 10:30, because he was up so late. But he still felt wiped. Then again, he was always like this when he first woke up. Breakfast would probably help. Rayen decided to vent his anger by slamming his hand on the snooze button as hard as he could.
The sound of snapping plastic startled him. He looked at the clock, only to see that his blow had split it into two! He looked at his hand in awe. He had done that with an open hand! Now that he was fully awake, Rayen was beginning to appreciate the after-effects of his transformation. Another of the after-effects hung in its sheath on a hook near the door. Rayen got out of bed, dressed, then walked over to the hook and pulled out the sword.
The blade was of the finest steel, chased with silver. The crosspieces were in the shape of a golden eagle with its wings outspread, the feathers of its wings and tail cast in bronze, as if the dawn's first light had just begun to grace their plumes. The eagle's fierce eye was appropriately a miniscule fire opal, its talons equally tiny diamonds. The hilt was also of gold, studded with four large gems, a ruby, a star sapphire, a blue topaz, and an emerald. Rayen supposed it remained afterwards to replace the one he lost during the fight. He remembered what it was like during Dragoon form, bigger and more grandiose in every aspect, and the eagle had become a golden dragon, roaring its fury to his foes.
Rayen slid the sword back in its sheath, opened the door and started to walk down the stairs. He smelled something cooking in the kitchen, and he suddenly realized something. He was hungry. No, I mean REALLY hungry. Since his shift at work was at 6, he hadn't had time to fix himself a very filling dinner. The snack he had after he came home had done nothing to curb his hunger.
Rayen walked into the kitchen and let out a low whistle. There were about a dozen plates stacked high with pancakes, French toast, bacon, hash browns, and many other dishes. His father was there waiting for him. He smiled at Rayen's awed face.
"I thought you might be hungry."
"Thanks, Dad."
Rayen grabbed the bottle of apple juice from the fridge and poured himself a glass. Getting some of everything, (except the eggs, Rayen hated eggs) he sat down and started eating like a half-starved animal. Mr. O'Connor chuckled. Rayen stopped to breathe (hey, give the guy a break, he's 17), swallowed, took a long sip of apple juice, then turned to his father.
"You going back to work today?"
"Nope. One of the reasons I stayed so late yesterday."
"Good."
Rayen resumed shoveling the food down his esophagus. His father chuckled again, then sat down and filled his own plate. They spent the morning eating and talking, all their worries and cares seemingly miles away.
Meanwhile in the sixty-somethingth floor of some huge skyscraper---
A man sat at a huge mahogany desk, signing an important document of some kind. There was a knock on the door. The man looked up in irritation.
"Come in."
"Sir, we've just gotten word that Corain and his group of specimens have been killed."
"Corain? Too bad, I liked the man. He was so willing to have himself turned into something inhuman. Must have believed he would gain power. He did, but it was obviously not enough. Where'd his portal open?"
"In a suburb about 45 miles west of here."
"I see. So either someone in that area has some very high firepower, or our esteemed psychics were correct in their prediction of the return of the Dragoons."
"Excuse me, sir, but don't you find this prediction of the future a little unbelievable?"
"Their mental prowess was created by the same magic that changed Corain into the blue monstrosity. I think we can trust their visions."
"Sir, the scientists prefer to call it-"
"I could not care less what the scientists call it."
"Yes, sir. What should we do about the psychics?"
"Arrange for them to pass away in their sleep. Messing with the future is a risky business."
"Yes, sir."
"One more thing. Send headhunters (not the kind you're thinking of, the kind that go out and search for people who need jobs) all over the continent, asking about Dragoons. If you find any, hire them immediately. Make them an offer they can't refuse."
"Yes, sir. Would it do me any good to ask why?"
"No."
The man swiveled around in his chair to look out the window. The assistant stood there, perplexed. The man turned around and gave the assistant an irritated glance.
"What are you waiting for? Now!"
"Yes, sir!"
He opened the door and hurried out. The man at the desk returned to the view, contemplating his next move.
The plot thickens...