Diviner

by Bryan Davis

  Orson extended his clasped hands again. “Forgive me, Magnar! I was a fool! I did seek my own comfort. I listened to my fears. I desired the favor of other fools rather than the approval of the Almighty. I should have done much more. But why should my daughter be punished for my folly? She is only an infant and bears no guilt in my affairs.”

  Magnar turned his head away. “How many other infants have already perished because of the foolishness of adults? Why should your daughter be exempt from—”

  “Magnar!” Arxad extended his neck and whispered in Magnar’s ear. “Let us speak in private.”

  The two shuffled several paces away. Still whispering, Arxad continued. “We must appease Orson to some extent. His genetic keys are essential to our plan, and he has yet to deliver the final sequence.”

  Magnar’s brow rose as he whispered in response, “Is this a scheme to manipulate us? We cannot risk saving his daughter. You know this.”

  “Yes, I know, but we can speak hope to him. His wife died giving birth to the girl, so he is a desperately grieving man. Allow me to find the words.”

  “Very well, but take care. You have trapped yourself in vows too many times.”

  When the two dragons returned to Orson, Arxad set a wing on his back. “You are the genetics expert, and we are relying on you for accurate information. The survival of your race depends on your complete honesty. When you deliver the final sequence, we will examine your daughter thoroughly. If you are able to convince me that she has no trace of the disease, you may place her in the clean room. I will include her in the transport.”

  “Arxad!” Magnar shouted. “You promise too much!”

  Arxad looked down and dug a claw mark in the turf. “What I have promised, I have promised.”

  Orson leaped to his feet. “Oh, thank you, good dragon! Thank you! You will not regret this. I will have the final sequence ready by tomorrow. I will not fail you.”

  He turned and ran along the path toward the distant buildings.

  When Orson was out of earshot, Magnar growled. “Do you really believe Orson’s examination will yield any hint of that disease? He will falsify the data to save his daughter.”

  “I have researched this disease thoroughly. I will not be easily duped.”

  “Not easily, but Orson is a genius. He will find a way to convince you.”

  Arxad watched Orson as he shrank in the distance. “I realize that a father’s love is a great motivator. I will be careful.”

  The farm setting vanished, as did Magnar, but Arxad remained. A new scene painted itself around him, a large room with no windows. The walls appeared to be made of smooth wood, dark and polished to a sheen. A long table sat at the center of the wooden floor, and two eggs the size of hefty pumpkins perched at one end, nestled in a large wicker basket. Oddly shaped glassware stood at the center of the table, partially filled with liquids of various colors, some with tubes rising from their narrowed tops.

  Arxad studied an object lying on the opposite end of the table, something that had not yet fully formed in Koren’s vision. His head swayed over it, and a growling yet sweet melody arose from his throat, the sound of a dragon humming.

  The object began to clarify, a bassinet of woven straw. Orson materialized in front of the table, sitting cross-legged on the floor. With his head drooping near his chest, he seemed to be weary or sick.

  Koren walked to the table and looked into the bassinet. A girl lay inside. Thick red hair covered her head, but closed lids concealed the color of her eyes. She breathed sporadically, fitfully, her little brow wrinkling.

  “The end is close,” Arxad said. “She will not survive the night.”

  Orson pushed against the floor, struggled to his feet, and staggered toward Arxad. With his hands bracing his body on the side of the table, he peered into the bassinet. “All is lost for my family. Justice is served, the penalty carried out. I prayed for mercy, though I deserved none. I asked the Creator to forgive me of my foolishness, my selfishness, and my pathetic excuses, but he has rightfully denied my pleas. I have done nothing to deserve anything but death. Yet I don’t understand why my daughter must suffer. She has done nothing to warrant such pain.”

  “She will not suffer long. She will be in the Creator’s arms in mere moments.”

  “I hope beyond hope that I will join her.” Orson leaned over the bassinet and kissed the girl on the cheek. “I love you little K,” he whispered.

  Koren gasped. Did he really say that? Those were the same words she whispered to herself night after night, the only memory she had of her own father. What could this mean?

  A loud bang sounded. Koren spun toward the noise. A door in this tale’s vision had slammed open, allowing dim moonlight to spill through an entryway, a cave-like arch much bigger than necessary for a human abode. In a flurry of wings and scratching claws, a white dragon burst through and settled on the floor. Carrying a sphere of clear crystal in his clawed hands, he shuffled closer.

  Orson trembled. “Why are you here? Are we already …” He swallowed hard. “Already dead?”

  Arxad bowed low. When he lifted his head again, he looked at the white dragon, his ears perking straight up. “Has the time come?”

  “Soon. The portal is forming even as we speak.” He stretched his neck toward the bassinet. A network of thin red lines appeared on his white scales. “Is the girl dead?”

  “Very close,” Arxad said. “Mere moments.”

  “Then I will take the time to explain.” The white dragon lifted the sphere. “This is a —”

  “What?” Orson shouted. “If you’re who I think you are, then you can heal her, but if you take time to explain, she might die.”

  The white dragon spoke in an even tone. “You prayed for mercy. Is it up to your discretion how that mercy is delivered or the manner or timing the deliverer chooses to employ?”

  “No.” Orson wobbled in place. “Not at all. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just —”

  “Lack understanding. I know.” The white dragon’s voice carried neither anger nor sympathy. “If you will stay silent for a moment, you will gain that which you lack.”

  Orson raised shaking fingers to his lips and spoke between them. “I will be quiet. Please forgive my haste.”

  “Forgive?” The white dragon’s eyes pulsed blue. “In a moment, you will see for yourself whether or not forgiveness has been granted.” He placed the crystalline sphere on the table. With dozens of smooth facets making up its clear surface, it was able to sit without rolling. “I call this a Reflections Crystal. When you learn its properties, you will see that it is an appropriate name, but for now I must demonstrate an ability that you would think is beyond reason unless you see it for yourself.”

  Arxad drew his head closer to the sphere. “If I may ask, King Alaph, what is the purpose of this demonstration?”

  “To ensure that your plan succeeds. You are transporting an embryo in each of those eggs, which will result in life, but long-term human survival depends on another factor.”

  “We verified that the human younglings within are free from the disease,” Arxad said, “and the virus cannot penetrate the shells. They are male and female with a wide genetic pool, so they should procreate efficiently for multiple generations, and I will care for them until they are of age. What aspect have I missed?”

  “You have done well, but there remains a danger that you were unable to detect.” Alaph set a foreclaw above the sphere. It rose a few inches and hovered in place over the table’s surface. “The fate of humankind hangs from a bare thread. The younglings will likely survive and breed, but our world still needs a Starlighter.”

  “To replace the one within the star?” Arxad asked. “What happened to her? Where is she now?”

  “Leave her fate to me. For now you must collect genetic material from Orson and his daughter.”

  Arxad turned toward Orson. His body lay slumped over the table. The girl’s tight forehead was now slack, and her chest heaved no more
.

  Alaph pressed both foreclaws against the sphere. It flashed with brilliant light, casting a white glow around the room. A pair of misty forms appeared in the light, somewhat human in shape yet without substance. They stretched out and, as if funneling through a tube, streamed into the sphere. Alaph guided the crystal back down to the table. As soon as it touched the surface, the light blinked out. “Those bodies are but shells now, but Orson and his daughter are safe inside the crystal. Collect the genetic material. You will need it in order to restore them at the proper time, and I will show you how to reconstitute them, both their bodies and their spirits.”

  “I will do as you say, good king, but whatever I collect will be infected. Is that a concern?”

  Alaph gave Arxad a slow nod. “A grave concern. If the virus reactivates, they could spread it to their fellow humans, and we would face a new pandemic.”

  “Then why take such a risk?”

  “Because without another Starlighter, humans and dragons alike will be doomed.”

  Arxad laid a clawed hand on one of the eggs. “Can a Starlighter arise from the two younglings we are saving?”

  “The possibility exists, but we cannot count on chance. We must preserve what we know and have available.” Alaph touched the top of the crystal, his expression anxious. “This little one has the potential to do what she must to save all of Starlight. Still, since she is extraordinarily gifted, if she decides to follow a darker path, the damage could be catastrophic.”

  “The risk seems greater with every word you speak.” Arxad shook his head, a look of resignation on his face.

  “As you said, we cannot count on chance. Perhaps we should simply force her to obey.”

  A low growl rumbled in the white dragon’s throat. “She must act freely, from a heart of love, without chains or compulsion. Chains will lead her to destruction. Chains never lead to love.”

  The scene vanished, leaving Koren alone in the silent corridor.

  Gasping for breath, she rapped on the door. “Are you there?”

  No one answered. She drew back and stared at the white doors. They seemed to glower at her, annoyed at her pounding knuckles. “Are you the white dragon?” she called.

  Silence.

  “Answer me!”

  Her words echoed, fading until silence again ensued, bringing with it a sense of lostness, loneliness, abandonment.

  As tears welled, she hugged herself. What had she seen? Who was that little girl? Herself as an infant? Her father’s name was Orson, but was this Orson her real father?

  She repeated his words in a whisper. “I love you, little K.”

  Koren dragged her teeth across her bottom lip. Tears dripped to her cheeks. He was her father. He had to be. But how could her mother have died giving birth? Memories of Mother were real, nothing that a newborn infant could have remembered.

  Turning slowly in place, she cried out, “Why did you want me to tell this tale? What do you want me to do?”

  The white dragon’s final words echoed in the air, as if recalled by her plea. “Chains never lead to love.”

  Koren looked at her wrists. The abrasions had almost faded, but the memory of the manacles had not. How many times had she reminded herself that love doesn’t need chains? Yet here she was, following Taushin’s orders as if the manacles were still clamped in place.

  The air, now quiet, seemed empty, void of any guidance. Nothing more could be done here. It was time to return to Taushin. What choice did she have?

  She shuffled along the hall, retracing her steps. More than ever it seemed as if chains dragged against her ankles. She was still a slave, still in bonds. But what could she do to break free? The white dragon wouldn’t allow her to come in. Brinella had spurned her. Taushin watched her every move through her own traitorous eyes. It was hopeless.

  After finding her way back to the entry room, Koren stopped and looked outside. Taushin stood there, still waiting, his eyes alive with blue sparkling light. Was she really his slave, hopelessly bound in chains forever? Would her chosen path lead to catastrophe? Somehow she had to prevent it, halt the progress of events she had set in motion.

  She studied Taushin’s expression—puzzled, impatient, perhaps wondering why she stood there staring for so long. Maybe it would be best to pry for more information, make a pretense of obedience. If he really believed chains would bring about love, perhaps a display of love would get him to reveal his ultimate plans.

  She straightened her black dress and marched down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she offered a curtsy and smiled. “I found Exodus.”

  four

  Jason lay on his stomach, his head raised just enough to watch the dragon village. About a hundred paces ahead and to the left, the Zodiac’s spires towered into the black sky, glowing with an eerie silver radiance. A spear’s throw to the right, the Basilica sat in shadows, nearly invisible except for its telltale bell tower jutting upward into the Zodiac’s glow.

  As he stared at the eerie sight, chills crawled along his skin. Up to this point, his journey with Elyssa to the village had been peaceful. With no dragons in sight, it was more like a casual stroll, giving him a chance to tell her about some of his adventures, including rescuing Koren from the cooking stake and carrying the stardrop that healed his father. Elyssa related a tale about unchaining Arxad from the same stake and another about her and Wallace rescuing the cattle children from the camp.

  Sharing thoughts and feelings with her was peaceful and joyous. Now, the peace seemed to melt away. Reality returned. The casual stroll had become a foreboding surveillance of deadly abodes.

  Elyssa scooted up to Jason’s side and copied his pose. Pariah’s dim light drew an outline of her profile against the dark backdrop, just enough to discern the tightness in her jaw, yet the night shadows couldn’t hide the intensity of her gaze as she probed the blackness with her Diviner’s vision.

  About halfway between them and the buildings, a single dragon flew along what appeared to be a village boundary, a hedge of stones that rose to the height of a human’s chest, apparently a way to funnel slave foot traffic to a gate not far to the left.

  Flapping his wings furiously, the dragon zoomed from right to left, low enough to snatch a human from the top of the wall if any dared to attempt the climb. After every few wing beats, he blew a blast of fire at the ground, lighting up the search area. On Jason’s side of the wall, grass ignited, creating a new obstacle, a knee-high line of fire.

  As the flames crackled, Elyssa whispered, “He’s completely focused on what’s ahead of him. He has a one-track mind.”

  When the dragon neared a cliff face far to the left, he reversed course and returned, this time closer to Jason and Elyssa, again blowing fire in rhythmic bursts.

  “One track could be right,” Jason said, also whispering, “but that track is shifting this way. If we stay here, we’ll be caught.”

  Elyssa nodded. “Or cooked.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Follow me.” She jumped to her feet, but Jason grabbed her and pulled her back down.

  “Don’t start skipping steps again. What’s your plan?”

  She pointed toward the cliff face, a hint of impatience in her tone. “Some of the caves are on this side of the dragon’s path. We can make a run for it. Then, if that dragon finishes his search without spotting us, we can go to the gate and see if it’s unlocked.”

  “And if it’s locked?”

  She shrugged. “We climb.”

  “Maybe.” Jason eyed the dragon as he swept again from right to left, his path now thirty paces in front of them. “We’ll go on his next pass.”

  “But when we get to the caves, let me probe inside first.” Elyssa lifted both hands. “The fingers on my left hand will tell you how many dragons I think are inside, and the other hand will be for the count of humans.”

  Jason nodded.

  After another turn at the left-hand extremity of his path, the dragon flew by again, this time so clos
e, the heat from his fire blasts warmed Jason’s skin. When the swinging tail whipped past, Jason waved for Elyssa to follow and dashed toward the cliff, running as silently as possible while holding his scabbard against his hip.

  When they reached the cliff, Jason stooped at the edge of a cave entrance and peered inside. Elyssa knelt behind him and peeked over his shoulder, taking deep breaths as she slowed her respiration. Then, crawling on hands and knees, she inched toward the dark opening.

  Jason looked back. The dragon approached from a distance, still pumping fireballs at the ground. Apparently he hadn’t seen them, but when he came within range, those flames would light them up like a campfire.

  Elyssa straightened her torso and twisted toward him, raising two fingers on her left hand and one on her right — two dragons and one human. She then dropped to all fours again and crawled in.

  Jason did the same. Elyssa likely had gauged how far within the cave the dragons were and judged it safe to enter—at least safer than risking a blast of flames. Once inside, darkness shrouded his vision. A hand gripped his wrist, and a whisper tickled his ear.

  “I think one of the dragons is awake.”

  A rumbling growl permeated the air, but it seemed more tortured than menacing, like a wail of lament. Jason began withdrawing his sword, but Elyssa’s grip tightened and pushed it back in place. “There is no danger.”

  A woman’s voice drifted their way, calm and reassuring. “He will return. He always has before. The length of this absence is nothing compared to other times he has gone on a journey.”

  “How little you know,” a female dragon said, her voice trembling. “How little all you humans know. We are reaching a prophetic climax, and death stalks in shadows, death for all of us if we sit on our haunches and do nothing. Evil holds sway over too many of my people. We must act.”

  “What do you propose to do?” the woman asked.

  In the silence of a pause, Jason reached for Elyssa. “Sounds safe. Let’s follow the voices.”