by Bryan Davis
Sighing, Randall turned toward the portal. It lay far beyond his vision, past the trees, across two streams, outside the barrier to the forbidden zone, an underground gateway that allowed passage for both good and evil. Now he and Tibalt played a daring game of gatekeeper, allowing two of the slave traffickers through. It felt like giving free passes to a pair of demons and providing them room and board while they plotted disaster.
As he stared at the treetops, clouds passed across the moon, darkening the night. Appropriate, to be sure. It seemed that Solarus, the moon, and every star had turned their backs, as if not wanting to witness the results of his foolhardy plans. Yet perhaps the Creator still cast a caring eye their way. They would need it. To bring Jason, Elyssa, and the Lost Ones home to a free Mesolantrum would take a miracle.
Jason crouched behind a rock and peered around its side. A little more than a stone’s throw away, the dragon village lay in silence, darkened on this cloudy night. Even the spires of the Zodiac, which had sparkled in the sunlight and shone with a silvery glow late into the evening, were now dark. One moon peeked through a gap in the overcast sky near the horizon— Pariah, the crater-riddled dwarf. Alone in the dismal blackness, it shone just enough light to provide a view of the quiet gathering of deserted buildings.
Sliding his sword back into its sheath, Edison emerged from behind Jason and stepped into the open. “I see no reason to hide like mice from a cat. There is neither man nor beast anywhere in sight.”
Jason rose and joined him. “I saw a lantern in a window, but it blinked off in a hurry.”
“I saw it, too.” Edison inhaled deeply. “I smell the odor of two men. They are close by, perhaps watching in fear. Something has frightened the humans in this place, but why are there no dragons present?”
Jason sniffed the air. With the land so dry, nothing registered, not even a hint of must or mold. “Let me know if you smell a dragon.”
“Will do. The scent of the one we killed is not easily forgotten.”
Jason squinted at the Basilica. When his captor flew past that building before, a huge dragon guarded the front entry, but now even that sacred place had been abandoned. “I don’t like it. Having no dragons around at all is very …”
“Suspicious?” his father offered. “As if something terrible is about to happen, and the dragons took off?”
“Something terrible? Like what?”
Edison shrugged. “I thought you might have an idea. But when I see chickens cowering and their captors flying the coop, it makes me think the coop is about to go up in flames.”
“I get the picture.” Jason withdrew his sword and strode toward the Zodiac. “Let’s go. If any dragon stayed around, it would be Arxad.”
They hurried into the village and crossed the Zodiac’s empty portico. After pushing open one of the heavy front doors, they continued a quick march through the corridor. Radiance flowed from the wall murals, providing enough light to illuminate the path. A girl painted on the right-hand wall stood within a semitransparent sphere, her hands uplifted as if supporting the sphere’s shell.
Jason slowed to a halt and stared at her, taking in her familiar green eyes, red hair, and ivory face.
“Do you know who she is?” Edison asked.
“Cassabrie,” Jason whispered.
“Ah, yes. I see the resemblance now.” Edison pulled Jason along. “Let’s compare notes about her later. I doubt that this painting will tell us what we need to know.”
When they entered the Zodiac’s inner courtyard, Jason slowed his pace. The crystalline sphere at the center pulsed, throbbing like a light-pumping heart. Even from where he stood, at least fifteen steps from the crystal, the light particles stung his skin.
Edison held up a hand, shielding his face. “What is that thing?”
“I have heard it called the Reflections Crystal and a cooking stake. If you touch it, it packs quite a wallop, but I know how to shut it off. Speak the first lie that comes to mind.”
“Let’s see…. I’m not nervous about being here.”
The radiance dimmed, but only enough to dull the sting.
“I guess you’re just kind of nervous,” Jason said. “We’ll have to do better than that.”
“All right. I see how this game works.” Edison squared his shoulders and spoke with conviction. “I am ashamed to be here with my son.”
The sphere instantly turned black, leaving them in darkness.
His cheeks warming, Jason patted his father’s shoulder. “Good job. Too good, really. But it should come back on soon.” Remembering the clear path between himself and the crystal, he strode forward and stood next to its column. As it slowly brightened, he scanned the area. A thick chain lay on the floor, one end attached to the column’s base and the other to a loose, unlocked manacle.
Edison lifted the manacle and sniffed the metal. “Human and dragon scent.”
“Both? That doesn’t make sense. Zena chained Koren to the crystal. I never saw a dragon touch the chain.”
“The inner part smells strongly of dragon.” Edison dropped the manacle and stared at the brightening sphere. “What would it mean if a dragon was the most recent prisoner?”
“Dissension in the ranks,” Jason said. “A power struggle.”
“A wise deduction. I think we can assume the dragon who has been friendly to our cause was the prisoner.”
“Probably. Any other clues?”
“Only that the human scent is blended with something familiar, a lye soap from back home, I think.”
Jason forced a straight face. “What year was the soap made?”
“I can’t tell that much, it’s too faint—”
“Father,” Jason said. “I’m joking.”
Edison’s brow lifted. “Oh, I see. It’s hard to tell when I’m concentrating.”
“I’ll be serious, then. Look at this.” He extended his arm. The brightening sphere highlighted the newly healed skin on his palm. “Smell the wrist. I think the stardrop might have stripped the scent on my hands.”
Edison sniffed Jason’s wrist. “Ah! The same lye soap. It has been a while since you used it, but traces are there.”
“Elyssa and I washed with lye soap at the lumber shack when we were running from Bristol and his dogs.”
“So I’m detecting your touch,” Edison said. “Interesting. I thought I would have known your scent.”
“You would have. I never touched the manacle. Only the chains.”
“So that means …”
“Elyssa was here.” Jason nudged the chain with his foot. “She released Arxad.”
“Another good deduction.” Edison raised a shielding hand. “Is it time for another lie?”
“I think we got the information we need.” Jason pinched the sleeve of his father’s tunic and pulled him back. “Let’s go.”
After retreating through the main corridor, Jason and his father stopped at the edge of the Zodiac’s portico and looked out over the desolate street. Three moons now shed light on the land, making the dragon realm visible. The village boundary ended at a downslope that led to an expansive plateau where two lonely mesas outcropped in the midst of a desert landscape. Mountains created the final backdrop, and dense forests painted their slopes dark green.
Jason nodded toward the distant trees. “Elyssa’s out there somewhere. I know she is. We have to find her.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Edison said, “but my nose isn’t sensitive enough to track her. I’m not a bloodhound.”
Jason lifted Elyssa’s pendant and rubbed his finger across the liberated bird. “We’ll find her, or I’ll die trying. I won’t leave this world without her.”
Holding a stardrop in her closed hand, Koren stood next to Taushin in front of a great castle, shivering in the shadow of one of its red turrets. A wide door lay open, as if the master of this enormous house awaited visitors, or at least expected no intruders. With an empty chair sitting in the middle of its huge foyer, the place seemed to open a pa
ir of arms and invite her in.
For years she had longed to visit these Northlands, and the sight of the colorful meadows sweeping beneath her as she rode Taushin’s back resurrected memories of her favorite daydreams. Simply finding that this place, this land where Solarus never set, was more than a myth had been exhilarating. Her dreams of meeting the great king of the dragons might finally be realized, but arriving at the doorstep brought reality crashing down. She had come not as a guest but rather as a darkly dressed stranger who might do more harm than good.
As a breeze kicked up, she pulled her inadequate cloak closer to her body. Although she had put on an extra shirt under her dress, the wind tore through every layer. “Should we just walk in?” she asked.
“You will walk in,” Taushin said. “I will remain here. The king of the Northlands would not be pleased with my presence.”
“Why is that?”
“He holds Exodus hostage. As long as it remains in his control, he can keep this land locked in ice, for if Exodus were to rise again, the polar cap would melt, and he would lose his kingdom. He prefers this little scrap of a kingdom over all else, including the lives of every dragon on Starlight. Even though he realizes that Exodus is the source of pheterone, he jealously guards it within these walls.”
Koren eyed Taushin. He kept his stare aimed straight ahead, blind as always. All the legends had portrayed the Northlands king as good and noble, so hearing this dark usurper saying the opposite wasn’t a surprise. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
“Exodus resides somewhere inside. Find it. Since you are a Starlighter, it cannot hurt you. Walk into its core and embrace its heart. Speak the words it bleeds, the tales it begs to have told. As you relate the stories, you will infuse it with your passion, and it will rise from this place.”
“Is it possible to walk into a star? Won’t it be blazing hot?”
“Exodus is not a galactic star. It is what you might call a celestial angel, a guiding light that the Creator assigned to this world. The citizens of the planet labeled it a star, even though they knew that the twinkling dots in the heavens were very different. Although it was somewhat hot centuries ago, Exodus sustained a wound in its outer membrane, and it lost its heat. That wound likely still exists, so you should be able to enter through the breach and approach the core. It would be reasonable, however, to use your gifts to create an image before you proceed. Perhaps you will gain some insight as to where it rests.”
Koren fanned out her cloak and raised her arms. Cold wind again assaulted her body, knifing through the black dress. Her teeth chattered, shaking her words. “Come to me, Exodus. Show me your heart. Allow me to see the pain of your wound.”
Ribbons of light flowed from the open door and streamed toward her. As they passed by her ears, each one whispered a brief sentence or two.
“Look! My skin! Something is eating it away!”
“There is no cure, my love. We are both going to die.”
“What once protected us from harm has left behind an evil curse. We should have listened.”
Koren looked for the source of the whispering light. Inside, a wall on the opposite end of the foyer had slid halfway open, and the streams poured through the gap in single file.
“Show me, Exodus,” she continued. “Fallen star, rejected angel, bringer of the curse, show yourself to me.”
The streams began gathering between her and the doorway and coalesced into a sphere of light nearly as large as the entry. A central body took shape at its core, flashing multicolored images so quickly that none stayed long enough for her to recognize. To the right, head high, thin vapor flowed through a small hole.
Keeping her eye on the hole, Koren walked in that direction. She laid a hand over the opening, covering the entire breach with her palm. “Once I get inside, how do I patch it?”
“You need not patch it. Telling the stories from the inside will cause Exodus to rise and again become Starlight’s guiding angel.”
“And it will regain its heat?”
“I detect that you fear burning. You need not. As long as the hole remains, heat will escape, and the same hole will provide you a way out once the star is again in the sky.”
“Okay,” Koren said slowly. “That sounds easy enough, but what benefit do you get out of it?”
“Adulation from the dragon populace. With the infusion of pheterone, all will realize that I am, indeed, the prophesied king. While I resided in the egg, the Creator endowed me with this knowledge. I alone know how a Starlighter can resurrect the star, and now I reveal the secret, a prophecy hidden from other dragons, even Tamminy. Once your will is set to raise Exodus, a crown of light will appear within the star. Take it. Wear it. Only then will you have the ability you need to accomplish this task. It is the crown that gives you the ability to hear Starlight’s tales, a spiritual receiver that collects the planet’s joys and woes. After you have accomplished this, we will end slavery throughout the world, and I will rule Starlight for centuries to come.”
A whispering stream broke away from the sphere and swirled around Koren’s head, leaving words in her ear with each orbit.
“If the hole is … not sealed, Exodus … is still wounded. The reason for its fall … must be removed.”
Then, the stream plunged back into the sphere in a radiant splash.
Koren cocked her head at Taushin. “Why would we resurrect Exodus without sealing the hole? Wouldn’t it just sink again?”
“Eventually. It would stay aloft long enough to prove who I am and to infuse the atmosphere with pheterone.”
“How can you be sure? What if it sinks while everyone is watching? That would ruin everything.”
Taushin closed his eyes, saying nothing for several seconds. Koren held her breath. The wait seemed unbearable. Her question was certainly reasonable.
Finally, Taushin let out a sigh. “I have been trying to protect you from an awful truth. I still have hope that Exodus will fly long enough to allow me to free your people, but if it sinks, our plans will sink with it.”
“What is the awful truth?”
“There is a way to ensure success. It is the reason I had you take a stardrop from Cassabrie’s chamber, and it is what I learned when you replayed the conversation between Magnar and Arxad in the Basilica. Once you get inside Exodus, you can seal the hole with the stardrop.”
Koren opened her hand and stared at the shining stardrop. “But if I seal the hole from the inside …”
“You would not be able to escape,” he said. “You would succeed, to be sure. Exodus would rise, it would fill the air with pheterone, and dragons would never again require the services of human slaves.”
Koren closed her hand. The image of the star evaporated, and the streams of light dispersed into the air. “You’re saying I would be trapped in there until I die, aren’t you?”
“Here is the heart of the awful truth.” Lifting his head high, Taushin spoke with passion. “You would neither be trapped nor would you die. Instead, you would become the guiding angel of Starlight, the destiny of an obedient Starlighter. As you will learn when you tell the tales from within Exodus, humans originated here and were relocated to Darksphere, a planet so named because it possessed no hovering angel. The reason a Starlighter is born is simply to assume this role. Cassabrie refused and therefore perished. You, Koren, were born to take her place, the savior of dragons and humans alike. Now you may take your place as a star in the sky, a watchful angel who forever tells the Creator’s stories to every soul in the world, dragon and human alike … if they will listen.”
After inhaling deeply, Taushin returned to his normal tone. “Your other option is the one I offered initially. Attempt the resurrection without sealing the hole. Perhaps we can accomplish our purposes without your sacrifice.”
Koren blinked at him. It seemed that an avalanche of revelation had stormed over her—the names of both planets, her own label as a Starlighter, the purpose for her birth, the reason Taushin imprisone
d her, choosing chains instead of persuasion. If she had known these terrible options in advance, she would likely have taken Cassabrie’s choice, refusing cooperation. Who would take either option? Eternal imprisonment in a sphere of light, hovering over a thankless planet, endlessly telling its populace tales they would likely ignore? Would trying instead to inflate a broken balloon make any sense? Even if it worked for a while, what would happen to the dragons’ pheterone supply later? Should she even ask this question? Taushin might not answer truthfully anyway. Maybe if she cooperated for now, she could buy enough time to get the slaves home regardless of what Taushin planned for the dragons’ survival…. Maybe.
“I see that you now understand,” Taushin said. “You know more than Cassabrie ever learned. In fact, you are a worthier angel candidate than she, for you are not only more powerful, you have demonstrated a willingness to sacrifice for others, a stark contrast to Cassabrie’s stubborn selfishness.”
“Sacrifice,” Koren whispered. It seemed so long ago that she and Natalla memorized one of her favorite verses in the Code. As she pictured Natalla listening to her read from the ancient book, the words streamed back into her mind. You will recognize love when you see someone sacrificing himself for the sake of a pauper.
She had explained to Natalla that the cattle children were surely paupers, and she finished the lesson with, “Someday I’m going to find a way to help them. Someone has to.” While it was true that the cattle children were now free, were the other slaves any less valuable?
“I cannot hear your thoughts,” Taushin said, “but your struggle is clear. My advice, again, is to attempt the resurrection without sealing the hole. If it fails, then perhaps you will have the opportunity to try again. Why sacrifice? Why risk harm to yourself when it is possible to gain what you long for without it? With your power, I am sure you can keep the star aloft long enough for me to get the slaves out. In fact, when you come down, perhaps every single one of them will already be gone. Surely success without sacrifice is to be greatly desired. To be eternally trapped while your liberated friends celebrate their freedom without you would be the greatest of tortures, would it not? Yes, you would feel some joy … temporarily. But what about after a hundred years? A thousand years? Ten thousand? After every rejoicing slave is dead, you will be hovering over a thankless land, forever and ever. Your sorrow will never end.”
