Warrior

by Bryan Davis

  She imagined the two of them sitting in a dark room, similar to the dungeon cell she had occupied for weeks. The picture raised conflicting feelings, both sorrow and comfort. Although Jason sat in prison, at least he had a friend, someone to talk to while he waited for release or escape. At least loneliness wouldn’t vanquish his will to survive.

  A twinge of envy pricked her emotions, but she brushed it away. His comfort was more important than her own. Having Koren with him was a blessing. Still, sadness leaked in as her thoughts drifted to her own dungeon imprisonment, where she sat in chains hour after hour, day after day, without any friends, until she finally amused herself by inventing one. Phantom, she had named her. The wisp of a girl appeared in the midst of Elyssa’s loneliest night, two weeks after she had arrived. Elyssa guessed her Diviner’s gift had conjured Phantom as a way of coping with worries about her parents and the possibility of execution should Orion find her.

  With her mind again in the present, Elyssa settled back against the tree trunk. As the thrumming sounds continued, calling her to slumber, she closed her eyes. Her mind sketched the dungeon cell and her own form sitting in one corner. Soon she drifted into the scene and took her place within the iron fetters.

  Alone in her own filth, she clasped her hands together and looked up at the darkness. As tears streamed, she wept through her words. “Creator, I don’t know why … why you’re letting me rot here. All I did was … snoop through Prescott’s files. I did it to find the Lost Ones, not to steal anything. And Orion thinks I’m a witch who conjures up whatever she pleases. He thinks I’m a menace to be burned. But I’m no witch. I’m just Elyssa. I sense things no one else can. That’s not conjuring. I’m just reading the details of your glorious world. I understand a language others cannot.”

  She wiped her nose on her sleeve, smearing something malodorous above her lip. Grimacing, she prayed on. “I don’t think I can stand it here much longer. I need help. Could you send Jason to find me? Adrian? Anyone? Even if I could just have someone to talk to now and then, someone who could let me know that you haven’t left me to suffer alone, I would—”

  “You would what?” A ghostlike image approached, no more than a light-filled outline.

  Blinking at the feminine form, Elyssa scooted back an inch. “Who are you?”

  “A friend,” the young woman said.

  “Did I … conjure you?”

  She laughed gently. “You might say that. You called me here, to be sure.”

  “I knew my Diviner’s gifts were getting stronger, but this is really a surprise.”

  A barely visible smile turned her lips. “Being able to create images that look real isn’t as strange as you might think.”

  Elyssa waved a hand, rattling her chains. “How would you know? You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

  “If you say so.” For a moment, the girl disappeared. Then the skirt of her gown twirled with light, making her visible again. “I cannot stay long, but I am glad to keep you company for a while.”

  “Okay …” Elyssa drew out the word. It seemed so comical that this imagined friend appeared to have a mind of her own. “What shall I call you?”

  “Well, my name—”

  “I know,” Elyssa said, raising a finger. “Your name can be Phantom. That fits you perfectly.”

  “If that pleases you.” Phantom disappeared again, leaving them both in darkness, though a few sparks trickled from where her mouth had been. “You are lonely. Would you like to hear a story?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Elyssa rested her head against the dungeon wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Phantom appeared again, her arms of light spreading out as she twirled a glowing cape. She swayed back and forth as if guided by the cadence of her words. “A long time ago in a distant world, a star hovered in the heavens. Not a normal star, mind you, a dwarf so small that it could easily fit in Governor Prescott’s palace. And, unlike the fiery giants that paint the night sky, this star—Exodus, by name—brought far less heat, not enough to scald the residents of the land, but enough to cause problems for some.

  “Exodus emitted a life-giving gas, though only one race on that world benefitted from its properties. The other race saw no purpose for the star. They saw only that it made the air hotter whenever it came by. Members of this race viewed it as an annoyance, but those of the first race worshiped the star because Exodus drifted from place to place in the sky as if it possessed a mind of its own.”

  As Elyssa listened, she let herself become absorbed in the tale. The world Phantom painted with her words appeared. Exodus hovered in the sky, a white ball emitting streams of light. A multicolored nucleus pulsed at the center, like an animated heart changing its hue with every beat. Forests and villages covered the landscape, along with people walking from place to place, every item as solid as herself.

  A human riding a dragon materialized. Elyssa squinted at the pair. How strange! Why would her mind conjure such a beast? Had her obsession with the Underground Gateway infused her unguarded thoughts with draconic images?

  “Those who did not benefit from the star,” Phantom continued, still swaying, “fools that they were, imagined themselves wise enough to alter the natural course the Creator had designed, thinking that a hot day meant something more than yet another passing of Exodus, that perhaps continued exposure would bring lasting harm. So these blind guides devised a way to diminish the heat Exodus provided.”

  The dragon flew toward the star. The human riding its back lifted a dark spear in one hand and, when he drew within range, flung it at the star. The spear pierced the surface and plunged into the heart. Exodus spewed white vapor that rained across the land. Like a deflating balloon, Exodus zipped away, slowly sinking in the sky as it raced toward the horizon.

  As Phantom’s swaying slowed, the scene dissolved. Darkness again prevailed. “Sadly, the gas Exodus provided diminished over the years, threatening the very existence of the race that counted on its presence for survival. And the fools who devised the weapon unleashed a curse, for as the wounded Exodus flew to its hiding place in the Northlands, it emitted a disease-bearing wind that manifested itself soon afterward.

  “Spreading cancerous lesions across the skin, the disease consumed the stricken, and they perished within days. As victim after victim contracted the plague, it became clear that only a few younger members of that race were immune, at least for a while, apparently protected by a genetic shield. Although the scientists among them were able to isolate the gene and understand its properties, every susceptible creature died before a cure could be found. Only one hope remained for the surviving children. The members of the other race, the victims of the insane plan, showed the children mercy. Yet even these children eventually succumbed, and this loss proved to be a greater problem for the merciful race than they first realized.”

  Phantom sat next to Elyssa, disappearing as she settled. “I have to go now. If I am able to return, I will tell you how one race preserved the genetics of the other race and repopulated the world with their progeny. Until then, in the event that I cannot return, I leave you with something you must remember. Only you have the gifts that will enable this knowledge to be applied.”

  Phantom shifted her body and knelt in front of Elyssa. It seemed that dust from the dungeon floor flowed into her glow, giving her solidity and color. Her face clarified. Her hair transformed to stark red. Her eyes shone green. “Someone will soon try to resurrect Exodus. If it is raised without sealing its puncture wound, it will unleash the disease once again, and every member of the race of fools will perish, save one. Only you remain genetically protected, and only you are able to safely seal the wound.”

  As she vanished again, two final words echoed: “Only you … Only you …”

  Elyssa jerked herself awake. That face! Those eyes! Leaning forward, she stared into the darkness. The rain has ceased. The wind had calmed. Only her bare whisper interrupted the silence. “Cassabrie!”

  She felt
the space next to her. Empty. “Wallace?” she whispered.

  Shifting to hands and knees, she crawled from her lean-to, then rose to her feet, peeling her damp shirt from her skin as she looked around. Three moons shone through the branches, illuminating the other lean-tos in the clearing. The sounds of a rain-washed night reached her ears—gentle snoring, water dripping from trees, the occasional click of a falling cone. All was well.

  “I’m over here.”

  Elyssa turned to find Wallace sitting, his back against a tree. With wet hair plastered over his empty eye socket, his clothes soaked, and a sword resting on his lap, he looked like a soldier who had just battled a sea monster.

  She knelt next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “I decided to take first guard duty. The other boys deserve a good night’s rest.”

  She pushed the hair away from the socket. “If anyone deserves a rest, you do.”

  “It’s all right. I never sleep well. I get nightmares.”

  “Want to tell me about them?”

  “Not really.” He looked away. “Too personal.”

  “I understand.” She slid her hand into his. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “I had a dream I need to tell you about.”

  He nodded, keeping his head turned.

  For the next few minutes, she told him about her dungeon experiences, Cassabrie’s visit, and the story she revealed. By the time she finished, Wallace was staring at her, his jaw partially open.

  “Do you know what that means?” he asked.

  “The humans were the ones who didn’t benefit from the gas, so they —”

  “Not that. I mean the conclusion. You have to find the star and seal it.”

  “I know,” she said, still kneeling, “but I wanted to see if you agreed before I mentioned it.”

  “I agree. And you’d better start as soon as you can.”

  “What will we do with the children?” Elyssa asked. “They can’t fend for themselves.”

  “They don’t have to. I’m not leaving them.” He passed the sword to Elyssa. “You’re going to need this more than I will. I can make a new weapon.”

  She stared at the blade. “Are you saying I should go by myself? All the way to the Northlands?”

  “You can’t be two places at once, and I can’t go with you.”

  Rising, she gripped the hilt tightly. “I suppose there’s no choice. And I should probably go as far as I can tonight.”

  “And sleep during the day.” He climbed to his feet and nodded toward one of the lean-tos. “Don’t worry about the children. I can take care of them.”

  “I know,” she said blankly, still staring at the sword.

  Wallace unfastened his belt and wrapped it around Elyssa’s waist. He then took the sword from her hand and pushed it into the homemade leather sheath at her hip. “I’ll never forget what you taught me.”

  Shaking herself out of her stupor, she gazed at his face. As his one eye gleamed in the moonlight, he appeared to be older, taller, not the puppylike slave boy who had to tilt his head up to look her in the eye. “Taught you?” she asked.

  “You called me a warrior, and you gave me confidence that I could lead the way. That’s why I know I can take care of these children.”

  “You’re right,” she said, nodding. “I have confidence in you.”

  “And now that you have the sword, I’m passing the same words back to you.” After taking a breath, he laid a hand on her shoulder, his voice now a whisper. “I can’t follow you, Elyssa, but you can still lead the way. It’s up to you to save the planet from the disease.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, his wet clothes against her own, chilling her skin. As tears welled, she whispered with a trembling voice, “We will meet again. Maybe here. Maybe at a better place.”

  “I hope so.” He drew away, his eye sparkling. “Go. And don’t look back.”

  “Good-bye, Wallace. When we meet again, I will dance with you. I promise.” She kissed him on the cheek, drew the sword, and marched into the forest.

  Retracing their path, she hacked at protruding branches with the sword. When she reached a point far from his view, she stopped. As she imagined Wallace’s face, an urge to look back nearly overwhelmed her, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. A moon-dappled forest lay before her, and somewhere beyond the trees, maybe beyond the barrier wall, Jason might be standing under the same trinity of moons. Perhaps he, too, had gone to the Northlands in search of her.

  Taking a deep breath, she resumed her steady stride. “I’m coming, Jason, ready or not.”

  twenty

  Tibalt lifted a key ring. “Found it!” he called, jingling the keys. “Told you I would!” “Shhh!” Randall jerked the keys away and brushed the ring on his tunic. Since the night Jason tossed it into the forest, rain and mud had coated it with a layer of silt and debris, but not enough to conceal it from Tibber’s stubborn search.

  As clean metal appeared, the surface gleamed in the moonlight. “Now we can unlock the dungeon.”

  Tibalt’s gap-toothed smile emerged. “I’ll tell the dragons.”

  “Tell them to keep hidden until I give a signal. I don’t remember if the back entrance is big enough for them to fit through.”

  “We’ll watch from the forest.” Tibalt followed a leaf-strewn path for a moment before angling away and slinking into the darkness.

  Stepping quietly, Randall followed the path to the dungeon’s back gate, an iron frame with heavy oak bars. He inserted the key, disengaged the lock, and swung the door slowly open, hoping to keep any rusty hinge from squealing. If only they could get the dragons in without anyone noticing, they would be safe for the time being.

  With the gate now wide open, Randall mentally measured the clearance. Arxad would likely fit without a problem. Magnar, the larger of the two, might have difficulty squeezing through the gate, but once inside he could negotiate the maze well enough to find a deep hiding place.

  Randall turned and looked at the forest. Out there in the midst of the trees, two dragons waited, ready to fulfill their offer of help—or potentially burn him to a crisp. He could trust Arxad, or so it seemed. Arxad appeared to be trustworthy as he gave advice about how best to approach their plan of ridding Mesolantrum of the usurpers. Magnar, on the other hand, gave him chills every time his eyes pulsed in response to Arxad’s suggestions. The bigger dragon had stayed quiet, though rumblings in his throat communicated hostility, at least in Randall’s mind.

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded. They couldn’t wait any longer. With a dead father to avenge and a mother missing, he had to take his chances.

  He waved an arm over his head. Seconds later, Tibalt emerged from the forest, followed by two dragons. Although Tibalt skulked like a cagey rat, the dragons, their scales shimmering in the moonlight, looked like a dazzling art display. If anyone happened to glance their way, their plans would be ruined.

  Randall waved frantically. Risking a little more noise was probably better than leaving them exposed for too long.

  Tibalt ran toward the dungeon. Arxad and Magnar flapped their wings, lifting their bodies into a skittering glide. When they arrived, all four stood at the open gate and peered through.

  “Tibalt will go first,” Randall said, “and lead the way as far into the maze as you dragons can go. When you’re settled, he’ll come back, and we’ll lock you in. You’ll enjoy the atmosphere. It’s drenched with extane.”

  “Pheterone,” Tibalt said as he walked into the dungeon. “That’s what they call it.”

  “Right.” Randall looked at Arxad, then at Magnar. “After I scout the goings on, I’ll come back with a report and a plan. I’ll also bring food and water.”

  “That is acceptable.” Arxad ducked his head and entered.

  Magnar grumbled. “Except for locking us in. Willingly stepping into a prison is not my idea of a wise plan.”

  “It’s to keep others out, not to keep you in.” Randall shook the wooden bars.
“With a couple of blasts of fire and your strength, you could escape easily.”

  “A reasonable answer.” After eyeing the bars for a moment, Magnar shuffled to the opening, collapsed his wings, and pushed past the frame, then turned back and cast his gaze on Randall, his eyes flaming more vibrantly than ever. “Heed my warning. Do not underestimate our abilities. If pheterone is indeed rich in the air, no army capable of fitting into this corridor will be able to withstand our flames.”

  “Warning well taken, Magnar,” Randall said as he closed the gate. “I’m hoping your increased strength will benefit us all.”

  Tibalt squeezed between the dragons and pressed his face against two bars, his nose protruding through the gap. “I will open the portal tonight,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “No sense in risking getting caught in the daylight.”

  “I agree.” Randall reached between the bars and gripped Tibalt’s shoulder. “May the Creator guide you to Jason and Elyssa. I know you’ll help them.”

  Tibalt’s smile returned. “Well, I’ll be a bug-eyed potato! Of course I will. And I’ll look for you in the governor’s chair when we come back with the Lost Ones.”

  “So be it.”

  As Tibber led the two dragons into the depths of the dungeon, Randall wrapped his fingers around one of the bars and watched the darkness close around them. The old man had plenty of spunk, but could he really do much good in the dragon world? And how could the son of the dead governor unravel the twisted plot that stole his father’s life? Drexel and Orion were so crafty, maybe they had already thought about dragons coming here to stop them.

  Randall licked his lips. Even from so far away, a bitter film coated them. Could that be the reason the dungeon was flooded with extane, to bait the dragons? Might they be walking into a trap? Magnar didn’t seem to know that using his fire would ignite the entire maze, which could easily cause a collapse. Yet warning him might raise trouble as well. Magnar wouldn’t take kindly to the idea that his most powerful weapon would be useless in the dungeon.