Warrior

by Bryan Davis

  Zena smiled, her lips trembling. “And our schemes have only just begun.”

  Balancing on vine-tied logs, Jason pushed a steering pole into shallow water and guided his raft toward a moonlit bank on the right. Koren slept curled on her side, in spite of the northbound river’s quickening current. A few hours earlier, they had anchored their rickety craft using a vine and stone and then dozed atop the river, hoping the water offered protection from any wild beasts that might be roaming the shores. Although those hours passed without incident, Jason had awakened many times, pain from the head wound Magnar had inflicted throbbing in time with his heartbeats, and his hypersensitive ears alerting him to every strange noise. After the fifth time a loud owl-like hoot sent his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, he decided to get up and try to make some progress in spite of his weariness.

  He touched the wound with a finger. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain raged on. Like a seasoned warrior, he would have to ignore it and press forward.

  Koren, on the other hand, seemed undisturbed. With her head resting on her hands and her Starlighter cloak covering her body from neck to ankles, she appeared to be as comfortable as if she were lying on a feather-stuffed mattress and satin sheets. Even when an occasional splash misted her hair, she merely fidgeted. This Starlighter, as she called herself, had clearly exhausted every ounce of energy.

  When the front end of the logs bumped against the shore, Jason gave the pole a final shove, pushing them higher on the sandy bank and making the raft tilt toward the river. Even then, Koren didn’t budge.

  He knelt close and listened, trying to tune out the sounds of running water behind him, a talent he had learned from his brother Adrian. As Koren drew breaths in a steady rhythm, her eyelids twitched, making tiny droplets glisten on her delicate lashes. The bright moon, Trisarian, had passed its zenith but floated high enough to illuminate her features—a small nose on a face as smooth as silk, hair so fiery red it seemed that the mist should sizzle on contact, and thin lips posed in a slight pucker, somewhat dry and peeling from her slave labors in the heat of the day.

  He set his hand inches above her hair. It seemed a shame to wake her, especially after witnessing the deeds that had spent her energy. Her amazing storytelling gifts allowed her to create ghostly characters who acted out a tale that recalled the capture of humans from Jason’s home planet, Major Four.

  In the story, the humans’ brave leader, Uriel Blackstone, resisted enslavement, escaped, and returned home through a portal deep within a mine where slaves drilled for pheterone, a gas that dragons require for survival. Back on his home planet, Uriel tried to mount a rescue, but no one believed him. In fact, the authorities accused him of killing the Lost Ones, as Uriel called them, and they confined him to an insane asylum where he spent the rest of his life.

  Because of Koren’s storytelling, Magnar, the dragon who had captured the Lost Ones, became hypnotized, which allowed Jason to purloin a key that unlocked Koren’s chains. After some shrewd negotiating, Arxad flew them to this river, and, after providing counsel to travel to the Northlands where a helper awaited, he returned to the dragon village, leaving them on their own.

  Jason moved his hand away from Koren’s head. It would be better to let her recharge her dragon-charming gift. If not for her ability, they would both likely be dead. They could wait a little while longer, at least until—

  Koren sucked in a breath and shot to a sitting position. Holding her hands against her heaving chest, she stared with wide eyes. “I can … I can feel him … like a fire burning inside.”

  “Him?” Jason met her gaze. “Who?”

  After taking a deeper breath, she swallowed. “The prince. The dragon in the egg. I hear his voice. I feel his presence.”

  Using a cup he had fashioned from leaves, he dipped out a little water from the river and handed it to her. “How do you know it’s the prince?”

  After taking a drink, she slid her hand into his and clutched it tightly. Her green eyes looked like copper fire in the moonlight. “While I was chained next to the black egg, he spoke to my mind, almost like he was inside me. It’s the same now.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  Koren withdrew her hand and looked southward toward the village, separated from them by countless miles and the great wall that, with aid from a mountain range to the south, hemmed in the dragons’ realm. Her tone altered to a stretched-out, ghostly cadence. “Come back to me, Starlighter. I am Taushin, the newborn prince and soon-to-be king. Together, you and I can break the tyranny and help your people find liberty.”

  “Taushin?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

  He jabbed the pole into the ground. “No matter what he says, he’s a dragon, so he’s not on our side.”

  She shifted her gaze to her lap where she threaded the leaf cup through her fingers. “I know, Jason. I know.”

  He bent lower to catch a glimpse of her face, now pensive and confused. “You don’t want to go back, do you?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that …” She let out a deep sigh and looked up at the moon. “If he really does want to help us, we’ll never find out.”

  Jason stood upright and reached for her. “Better to stay the course for the Northlands and find the person Arxad mentioned.”

  When she grasped his hand, he pulled her up and helped her step to solid ground. She nudged the raft with the toes of a bare foot. “Why did you bring us to shore?”

  “Arxad mentioned a waterfall. I think I hear it, and the water’s getting rougher.” He picked up a pumpkin-sized cloth bundle, food Arxad had supplied, and walked out onto a dry grassy field. He stopped and scanned the moonlit expanse, a fairly flat terrain. “We’ll have to go on foot.”

  Koren joined him, yawning and stretching. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Some. A hooting bird kept waking me up.” While attaching the food bundle to his belt, he looked back at the river. “But I had a strange feeling that something else lurked out there, something that watched us, waiting for us to come to shore. So I decided to forget about sleeping and ride the river until that feeling went away.”

  She slid her fingers around his arm. “Then we’ll have to find a safe place to sleep, maybe in some bushes.”

  “Not yet. We’ll sleep during the day. March while it’s night. We don’t want a dragon patrol to spot us.”

  Koren looked up at the moon. “Trisarian is so bright, if the dragons sent a patrol, even at night they would probably see—” Her head tilted to the side. “How strange!”

  “What?” Jason followed her line of sight. A cloud bank drifted close to the moon, the leading edge reaching toward it with gray fingers. “The clouds are strange?”

  She wrinkled her brow. “It rarely rains in the lowlands, so clouds are usually confined to the mountains. I have seen them veil Trisarian before, but not until later in the cool season.”

  “Then we’re in luck. The darker the better.” Turning slowly, Jason scanned the area again. Soon, the landscape would be shrouded, so he had to take in as much visual information as possible. Now his confident remark about darkness seemed premature. The feeling that something lurked returned, pricking his senses. It was out there somewhere. Would darkness embolden the creature? Give it an opportunity to attack?

  As a breeze kicked up, Jason inhaled the air, moister than before and carrying a variety of odors—grass, mold, and … and something else, something wild and bestial. Closing his eyes, he allowed his sense of smell to hone in on the wild odor’s source—to the east, out in the field, maybe a stone’s throw away. If only he had his father’s amazing sense of smell. He and Adrian had inherited a portion of it, but no one could identify a scent as well as Edison Masters could.

  Jason opened his eyes and looked in the odor’s direction. Now darkening with each passing second, the field resembled a dim ocean, with the tops of the grass stalks undulating in the wind. Dozens of small trees dotted the landscape, and m
any of them swayed as well. Any one of the stationary shadows could be the stalker. Perhaps a carnivorous beast lay low in the grass, relishing the opportunity to taste human flesh.

  Jason grasped the hilt of his sword with one hand and reached for Koren with the other. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “We’ll get as far as we can while it’s still light enough to see.”

  With the river on his left and the field on his right, Jason hurried toward the north. His sword whipped his leg, and the food bundle bounced, forcing him to travel slowly. After a minute or so, he released Koren’s hand, hoping to secure his baggage and quicken his pace, but she soon began to fall back, limping.

  He halted at a copse of bushy trees and waited for her to catch up. Although she was only a few steps behind, if not for her white dress and flowing cloak she would have been invisible in the failing moonlight.

  The river’s roar increased, signaling their nearness to the waterfall and forcing him to speak above a whisper. “Are you hurt?”

  She lifted a leg and showed him her bare foot. “There are sharp stones in the grass. I think it’s bleeding.”

  “That’s not good.” He knelt and held her foot, small and narrow, with rough calluses on the sole. Blood oozed near her heel from a thumbnail-length cut, but its depth was impossible to determine. “I’d let you wear my shoes,” he said, “but they’re way too big. Maybe I could wrap it with something.”

  “That would be helpful.”

  “Let’s duck under the trees.” He led her into the copse, nothing more than a tight semicircle of tall shrubs.

  She sat on a patch of grass, her leg extended. “What do we have to wrap it with?”

  Jason scanned the field beyond the shrubs. If a predator crept out there, it could approach without being seen. “We have this.” He unfastened the food bundle from his belt and sat next to her. As he spread the cloth out on the grass, he kept glancing at the field. Maybe if they ate their fill and left some for the creature, it would be satisfied. Then again, it might follow them in search of more. Perhaps it could track the scent of Koren’s blood.

  “Let’s go ahead and eat,” he said, trying to keep his voice confident. “We need the energy, and I can use the cloth to wrap your foot.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She winced, as if her own words scraped her senses.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Taushin. His call is more urgent. He says I’m in mortal danger. If I come back to the great boundary wall, a wolf pack will guide me safely to him. Then I can choose an attendant and give her an easy life. I will live as a princess in the Basilica without any labors.”

  Jason kept his focus on the cloth as he spread out an assortment of fruits, raw vegetables, and dried meats. “Did he mention me?”

  Koren shook her head. “I don’t know why. Zena knows you’re with me, so he probably knows, too.”

  “He plans to cook me at the stake. That’s why. He doesn’t want you to know.”

  She laid her hands over her ears. “He’s getting so loud I can barely hear you.”

  “Can you use your gift to drown him out? Maybe tell a story?”

  “That might work.”

  “Go ahead and eat first.” Jason drew out his sword and laid it next to the food. “Choose what you want, and when you finish, I’ll bind your wound while you tell a story — that is, if you can wait that long to squelch the prince.”

  “I think I can,” she said as she lowered her hands. “It’s already a little better.”

  While they ate, Jason glanced between Koren and the field beyond the shrubs. With clouds fully enveloping the moon, and trees blocking its muted light, her green eyes seemed to be the only visible objects, like little emeralds floating in the dark air.

  Jason concentrated on their surroundings, again tuning out the river’s noise. Outside their refuge, the grass rustled in the breeze, and every creaking sound and popping noise gave Jason a start. It seemed that the stalker lay just beyond the copse, watching with hungry eyes.

  Jason picked up his sword and the cloth, leaving a few meat strips on the ground. “Let’s go to the river and wash the cut before I wrap it.”

  “Good idea.” She rose and brushed off her dress.

  “Is Tau-what’s-his-name still talking?”

  “Taushin. Yes, the same message over and over.”

  “Have you tried talking back to him?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure if I can, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Maybe he doesn’t know he’s been able to reach me.”

  “True. But if you decide to answer, tell him I said to go back into his shell and shut up. It’ll take a lot more than a scaly parrot to get you away from me.”

  Koren covered a smile with her fingers. “I’ll think about it.”

  Following the sound of falling water, they passed through the tree boundary and walked to the river. As they stood at the edge, Jason surveyed the scene, barely visible in the veiled moonlight. The river rushed past their feet and, about ten paces downstream, tumbled over a cliff and fell into depths unknown. Beyond the falls and to the left, the spilled water flowed westward. To the right, the grassy field extended eastward and northward, acting as a precipice for the gorge.

  Koren sat at the river’s edge and hiked up her dress, revealing short trousers underneath. “I can wash it myself.”

  “No. Let me.” Jason set a knee on the sand and a boot in the shallows. He moistened a corner of the cloth and swabbed the sole of her foot. As he continued dipping and washing, she winced with every touch. “Is Prince Persistent still bothering you?” he asked.

  She cocked her head. “That’s strange. I don’t hear him anymore.”

  “Good. Maybe not answering was the right decision.” He wrapped the cloth around her foot and tied it at her ankle. “Let’s see how it feels.”

  Holding her hand as well as his sword, he helped her limp toward the trees. “What’s the verdict?” he asked.

  “I can walk but probably not very fast.”

  When they arrived at the center of the copse, Jason stooped and felt for the meat. It was gone. He sniffed the air. The wild scent had returned, stronger than ever.

  “Koren,” he whispered, still crouching. “Don’t ask why. Just climb up on my back. Do it now.”

  “Okay.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her trousers brushed his sides. Soon, she had mounted and settled on his back.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  Jason slowly straightened, holding her wrist with his free hand. “Just hang on.” Leading with his sword, he burst from the trees and ran into the field, heading northward and keeping the river and waterfall to his left. As long grass whipped his legs, he listened for a pursuer, but the river drowned out all other sounds.

  He couldn’t look back. Every step held a potential trap—a hole, a gulley, or even a plunge into the river’s gorge. With only a few feet illuminated in front of him, even one second of carelessness could cost them their lives, or at least a painful tumble.

  “Jason!” Koren yelled. “Something’s following us!”

  With his own heavy footfalls shaking his voice, he shouted, “What does it look like?”

  “A man!”

  “A man?” Jason slowed to a halt and turned to face the pursuer. As he stared at a dark form creeping toward them, he readied his sword, whispering, “Get down.”

  Koren slid off his back and stood at his side. “He’s slowing.”

  “Who are you?” Jason shouted.

  The form stopped. As Trisarian peeked through a gap in the clouds, the human frame clarified. He stood with a hand on his hip and something long and pointed in his other hand. “I had planned to ask you the same thing.” The man’s voice was gravelly, yet dignified in tone.

  Jason inhaled through his nose. Yes, the stranger carried the bestial odor. “If you are a friend who will help us,” Jason said, “we will introduce ourselves. If you are here to harm us, I will int
roduce you to the point of a sword.”

  The man let out a genial laugh. “Since you left food on the ground, I assumed it was for me and that you considered me a friend. Perhaps it was an ill-advised assumption, but my stomach said otherwise. I have not had meat in a long time. In fact, I had been thinking about trying to catch a fish in the shallows. The roots, berries, and field potatoes in this land are not very filling.”

  As the man drew closer, the moon shone on his face, dirty and covered with a thick, choppy white beard. He halted within striking distance and dropped a sharpened stick. “You talk as a free man would. Where are you from?”

  Jason sheathed his sword. “I am Jason Masters. I have come from Major Four—”

  Koren jerked on his sleeve and hissed, “Don’t tell him everything! We don’t know him yet.”

  “It’s all right,” Jason said. “He’s human, not a dragon.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You can’t trust every human, especially one who isn’t a slave.”

  “If he was an ally of the dragons,” Jason replied, also in a whisper, “he probably wouldn’t look like a homeless beggar.”

  Koren’s skeptical expression softened. “Do what you think is right.”

  “As I said,” Jason continued, turning back to the man, “I have come from Major Four, the world of humans, in order to rescue the slaves and take them home.” He nodded at Koren. “And this is Koren, one of the slaves.”

  The man pointed in the direction they had been running. “If you think home is that way, you had better think again. You will find only snow, ice, and a castle filled with ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?” Jason half closed an eye. “As in disembodied spirits?”

  “Exactly, young man. I have seen them myself.”

  Koren stepped forward and offered a half curtsy. “Pardon me, sir. Jason told you our names. Will you tell us yours?”

  “I apologize for my rudeness, Miss.” The man gave her a formal bow. “I am Uriel Blackstone.”