by Bryan Davis
“Even if Taushin unleashed the disease?” Randall asked. “Are Starlighters immune?”
“Koren wasn’t immune, but …”
Marcelle cringed. Arxad was again looking her way. What did he have in mind?
“Wasn’t immune?” Randall tilted his head to the side. “How could you know that unless she contracted it? And if she contracted it, then how could it always be fatal?”
A low rumble emanated from Magnar’s throat. “Take care, Arxad. The human’s questions will never end until he learns everything.”
“This will be the last response.” Arxad shifted his focus back to Randall. “She did contract the disease, and she died, but that story is one you need not hear. For now, we should—”
“Wait a minute! You can’t spring that on me without explaining it. How could Koren have died? She’s alive …” Randall squinted. “Isn’t she?”
“She is alive,” Arxad said, “but if I tell you that story …”
“No!” Magnar’s head wagged at the end of his swinging neck. “I draw the line there. We cannot allow the humans to know. Not yet.”
Randall jabbed a finger toward Magnar. “Listen. You’re asking us to fight your battle, for your kingdom. Don’t tell me—”
“For the lives of your people,” Magnar said, nearly shouting. “And I will share my knowledge at my discretion. If lacking an answer to a question keeps you from a rescue attempt, then by all means stay here with your fellow soldiers, and we dragons will do what we must to save our planet. If the lives of human slaves are lost in the effort, then so be it. I will tell them that the people of Darksphere abandoned them because of their insatiable curiosity about tangential matters.”
Randall shook his bow at Magnar. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’ve watched my father’s political maneuvering all my life, and I recognize a brow-beating dodge when I see one. You’re the ones who kidnapped my people and enslaved them in the first place, so don’t give me that verbal excrement about curiosity. You should be thanking us that Orion didn’t order an immediate invasion to wipe out your species from the face of your planet.”
Magnar shot a sizzling ball of flames that flew within inches of Randall’s ear. “You fool! If you knew the truth, you would drop down on your knees and beg for forgiveness! You are indebted to us for your life, especially to Arxad, so—”
“Stop!” Arxad fanned his wings and blocked both Randall’s mouth and Magnar’s. “This is senseless.”
Magnar knocked Arxad’s wing out of the way with his own. “You and I both know that he is the senseless one. He barks at the howling wind, an ignorant mongrel who knows neither the source nor the direction of the breaths that gave him life.” Huffing another spark-filled snort, he shuffled toward the dungeon gate. “If you can speak sense to him, then do so, but you may not tell him about his origins. You have said too much already.” He squeezed through the opening and faded into the darkness inside.
Arxad let his wings droop, uncovering Randall’s mouth. Curling his neck, he brought his eyes level with Randall’s. Although close enough to allow a whisper to be heard, he kept his speaking volume high, as if to make sure Marcelle could hear. “There is much you do not know, and you lack even the knowledge of why you do not know. Do not allow your curiosity to overcome your commitment. Trust me. Learning these secrets will not help you.”
While Randall stared at the dungeon, apparently in deep thought again, Marcelle kept her focus on Arxad. There was no doubt about it. He knew she was there. His last speech seemed to indicate that there was nothing left to learn from eavesdropping. With Magnar gone, maybe it was a good time to talk to Randall.
She rose slowly to her feet and backed away. She was too close to approach. Randall might not like it if he discovered that she had been spying on him. Maybe sneaking back to the forest edge and making some noise from there would be a better idea.
Randall loosened his fingers around his bow. “There is one piece of information I’ll need to know right away—the location of the other portal. If I am to lead Orion’s scout team, I have to tell them how to prepare. A long march? Cold weather?”
As Marcelle backed away, her shoe crunched a bit of gravel on the path. She halted, cringing.
Arxad’s ears rotated, as if searching for the source of a sound. He heard, but apparently Randall didn’t. “Well,” Arxad replied, “there is a problem. It has been so long since I passed through that portal myself, I am not certain I can find it again from this side. Forest growth has altered the landscape, so it is no longer familiar to me. In recent times, however, I sent an emissary who has informed me about the portal’s location relative to landmarks you probably know.”
“For example?”
Marcelle continued backing away. Soon she would reach the forest and could approach without Randall suspecting anything.
Arxad again kept his voice raised. “My emissary mentioned a gas pipeline’s termination point in the forest. The portal is perhaps a ten-minute walk from there.”
“Okay,” Randall said. “I think I know where that is. We can get there in less than an hour. But what about the conditions where it comes out in your world?”
“Have the soldiers prepare for very cold weather, including ice and snow, then for a march of perhaps two days with a change to temperate conditions as their journey proceeds.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. When should I tell Orion to have the men ready?”
“As soon as possible. Already the march from the Northlands might take more time than we have.” Arxad turned toward the dungeon, but curled his neck to keep his focus on Randall. “Come for us when you are ready to depart.”
“I will.”
Arxad squeezed through the gateway and disappeared into the dungeon’s entry corridor.
Marcelle nodded. Perfect. Arxad was gone. She strode down the path, her hand clutching the hilt of her sword. “I heard you talking about having the men ready. Maybe you should ask a woman what to do.”
* * *
SEVENTEEN
* * *
RANDALL backed away a step, his eyes wide. “Marcelle?” He leaned closer. “Are you all right?”
She waved a hand. “I’m fine. Just pay attention. I have been listening to your plans. This isn’t the time to play games with Orion. This is life and death. Strike hard, and strike now.”
Shaking his head, Randall laughed. “I assume you have an idea to go along with that bravado.”
“I do. Didn’t you get my note?”
“Oh! So you’re the M!”
“Of course.” Marcelle set a hand on her hip. “Do you think any male soldier would have handwriting like that?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure. It’s possible that it was dictated to a female who just ran out of ink.”
Marcelle rolled her eyes. “No, Randall. I just wanted to make sure no one else knows I’m here in Mesolantrum. I thought you had seen my handwriting enough times to know who wrote it.”
“Okay, okay. I get the point.” Randall glanced away for a moment, his face displaying a hint of shame. “You said you want more troops. What’s your plan?”
“It’s simple. We abandon the reconnaissance contingent idea, escort Orion directly to Starlight, and force him to order his armies to join us immediately.”
“Kidnap him? Don’t you know how many guards he has? Even his bodyguard has a bodyguard, and he has archers with him wherever he goes.”
“Didn’t you pay attention? He sent his archers and bodyguard away.”
“Right. I saw that.” His expression seemed to want to add “so what,” but he stayed quiet.
Marcelle let out a huff. “Follow me, my friend.” She marched toward the forest, trying to display a confident stride. As she walked, she focused straight ahead. Randall’s footfalls were almost completely silent. Apparently he had learned to apply his training well.
She halted at the tree where Orion still stood bound and gagged. He wriggled and grunted, but the socks muffled ever
y word.
“He’s enjoying a meal of socks,” Marcelle said, pointing at Orion’s bare feet. “It’s all I could find.”
Randall gasped. “You kidnapped the governor?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” She winked. “Besides, have you ever known me to do things diplomatically?”
“Okay.” Randall stretched out the word, obviously skeptical. “What’s the next step? Authorization letters for our army? A call-to-arms appeal to the other governors?”
Marcelle pressed a thumb against her chest. “Leave both to me. We’ll get the signatures now, and I’ll fill in the verbiage. I already have the funds I need to get supplies for the troops. Now all we need to do is get Orion to Starlight right away so there’ll be no chance for him to countermand the letters.”
“If we can find the portal,” Randall said. “We know its approximate location, but we still have to find it.”
Marcelle picked up a long stick and began scratching a bare patch of dirt. “I know where it is. I’ll draw a map.”
With a desperate heave, Orion spat out the socks. “Don’t listen to her! She’s a witch, I tell you. A witch!”
Marcelle whipped out her sword and set the point under his chin. “If you breathe another word, you will see your tongue skewered on this blade.”
His eyes flaring, Orion pressed his lips together and nodded.
Randall picked up the socks. “Governor Orion, I thought you said your witch-hunting days were over.” He gave Marcelle a nod. “Let him answer, as long as he does so quietly.”
She lowered the blade but kept it at the ready.
“I …” Sweat beaded on Orion’s forehead. “I did give up witch hunting, but look at her. She is practically a ghost. Feel her hands. They are icy. You will see.”
Randall looked at her hands. “Marcelle, do you have chills?”
She gave him a hot glare. “We don’t have time to do a medical diagnosis. Let’s get on with the plan.”
“Feel them,” Orion said, nodding rapidly. “You cannot deny your own observations. I could tell you more of what I have seen, but you likely would not believe me.”
“That’s enough!” Marcelle grabbed the socks from Randall and stuffed them back into Orion’s mouth.
“Marcelle?” Randall reached for her. “Something really is wrong with you. Let me feel your hand.”
She sidestepped his reach. “I told you I’m fine.”
As he stared, she averted her eyes. How could she keep avoiding the obvious? Just display some negative body language to repel his questions? She crossed one arm over her chest and clutched her opposite bicep, tapping her foot with feigned impatience.
“The things I don’t know keep piling up,” Randall said, “but at least we have a plan that should work.” He turned toward the palace. “Let’s get moving.”
“Wait!” Marcelle grabbed his sleeve.
Randall pivoted back. “What?”
“I need you to fill me in,” she whispered as she glanced at Orion. “What’s your story? Did you go to Starlight?”
He nodded, keeping his own voice low. “With Jason and a couple of others.”
“Others? Who?”
“Do you know Elyssa and Tibalt?”
“Yes, of course. I met them both in the dungeon.” Marcelle resumed her toe tapping. “So that’s where they went. I supposed Drexel got them out of the dungeon. I’m surprised he kept his promise.”
“Jason got them out, but it’s a long story that’ll have to wait. All three of them are still on Starlight, and they’re all likely in trouble with the dragons.”
Marcelle nodded. “And Adrian and Frederick, too.”
“So let’s get going and—”
She tugged his sleeve again. “Help me get Orion’s signature for the letter of marque I’m having drawn up.” She picked up her mourning cloak and withdrew one of the two remaining parchment pages. “We’ll cut him loose, and one of us will guard him while the other gets his signature.”
“Since you know the way to the portal, maybe I should get the letter drawn while you take Orion to the portal.”
Marcelle shook her head. “I have dealt personally with the military commanders, so let me handle the letter while you go with Orion and the dragons. Get some warm clothes and enough supplies for a few days, and I’ll be there as soon as I can with the soldiers.”
“I took my mother to Jason’s commune. I can probably get clothes for us there. I’m not sure if anything will fit Orion, as tall as he is, but we’ll see.” Randall looked toward the forest beyond the dungeon. “You said you could draw a map.”
“I’d better do that before we get the signature.” Marcelle withdrew the final parchment page along with the charcoal pencil. She made a twirling motion with her finger. “Turn around. I need a surface to write on.”
Randall complied. “Now I’m a desk?”
“That’s right.” She pressed the page against his back and drew a serviceable map. Although it wasn’t to scale, and it omitted details, Randall was skilled enough to follow it. “I’m done.”
When he turned around, she pointed at the charcoal lines. “It’s a little past the forbidden zone, but if you stay alongside Miller’s Creek, you shouldn’t get lost, especially since Adrian and I have both been there recently. The trail we blazed should be easy to follow.”
“Maybe not so easy in the dark. By the time I get supplies, it might be midnight.”
“Perfect. All the better for keeping the dragons out of sight.”
“Good point. That won’t be easy. Maybe it would be better just to let everyone see them so they’ll believe in Dracon.”
Marcelle shook her head. “We don’t want panic. With Maelstrom likely having his way in the palace by now—”
“Maelstrom?”
“The new Counselor. Leo. But that’s another long story. Just realize that with Orion gone, Leo probably hasn’t wasted any time in taking Mesolantrum’s reins. If we have panic and a potential dragon threat, the troops will be less likely to come with me.”
Randall nodded. “Another good point.”
“One question, though,” she said, raising a finger. “Did you hear about the execution of a witch?”
His face hardening, he leaned close to her and whispered. “Definitely. Everyone wanted to go, including some slaves we rescued from Starlight. They were hoping to do whatever they could to stop the execution. It took me all morning to convince them to stay in hiding.”
Marcelle kept her voice low as well. “Did you know I was the one being executed?”
“You? No.” He glanced at Orion. “Why? And how did you escape?”
“I’ll have to tell you later. I was just wondering why you weren’t there.” She tapped on an open circle at the end of the map’s trail. “The portal is in the middle of a clearing, and it should be open, meaning that if you walk through it, you’ll instantly be in a snow-blanketed forest. That’s the Northlands. I’m sure the dragons can guide you from there.”
“Got it.” He took the map, folded it, and stuffed it into his tunic’s inner pocket. “Let’s get the signature.”
Marcelle cut through the vines binding Orion and extended the parchment and pencil. “It’s for your own good. If you give me control of the military, we will crush Leo when we return from Dracon. Otherwise, he’ll gain control first, and you’ll have no hope of stopping him.”
“I had control until you came along.” He snatched the pencil and page. “I’ll need a writing surface.”
“I found Randall’s back to be a fine desk.” She pushed the tip of her sword close to Orion’s ear. “Just make sure your hand doesn’t shake.”
After signing the page, he gave it and the pencil back to Marcelle. “Take care, young lady, that you stay wary of Leo. He is more dangerous than you realize. He is a sorcerer whose power is from the Creator’s enemy, and it continues to strengthen with every person’s energy he absorbs. The soldiers you muster might not be enough to
defeat him.”
“Then why did you bring him here?” Randall asked. “I thought you wanted to rid Mesolantrum of sorcerers.”
“To be sure. You see, Leo wants to rule the world, and he knows that other practitioners of sorcery would forever be hoping to steal his power, so he is obsessed with finding them and taking their power first. After he eliminated the others, I had a plan to eliminate him, but you have ruined it.”
“How so? Can’t we implement your plan?”
“Not with my leverage gone. Those children were the keys to keeping Mesolantrum out of his hands. At the right time, I would have restored them to their parents and blamed Leo for the kidnapping. Then the fiery wrath of fatherly indignation would have fallen on Leo’s head. Now that the children are home, Leo will likely threaten them himself in order to control the military and keep his newfound power. So, in spite of all your meticulous planning, my signature will do you very little good.”
“I can use it if I hurry.” Marcelle rolled the page up. “Leo hasn’t had time to inform everyone yet.” She looked at the sky. A bank of thin clouds now veiled the moon. “You’ll need a torch.”
“I’ll get one at Jason’s,” Randall said. “I know the way well enough from here to there. We’ll take a path that’ll keep us out of sight, and then we’ll return for the dragons.”
“That should work.”
Randall gestured with his sword toward a narrow trail that led deeper into the woods. “Former Governor Orion, if you’ll precede me, I will provide directions.”
Grumbling under his breath, Orion trudged ahead on the trail.
Randall gave Marcelle a half smile as he passed, whispering, “I’m traveling with two dragons and a bizarre species yet to be named. Thanks a lot.”
Marcelle smiled in return, though he probably couldn’t see it. After a few seconds, the rustling of forest debris diminished, leaving only the sound of a gentle breeze in her ears. She clutched the rolled-up note. Getting this to Dunwoody remained the highest priority. She had to gather the troops as soon as possible, but one question remained that wouldn’t relent. Why was Arxad watching her? Did he want to say something? Although dragons weren’t trustworthy, he seemed wiser than the others. Simply learning what was on his mind couldn’t hurt.
