by Bryan Davis
“Ah! Now that would be a trick!” Brinella paced in a tight circle, her fingers intertwined behind her back.
“Starlight has not seen their freedom, so you would have to draw from a different source, someone who has witnessed the events you wish to portray.” She stopped and pointed at Koren. “If you are a true Starlighter, you have that power, especially if you call for the images while standing within Exodus. If the people believe your words, their faith will bridge the gap between you and them.”
Koren imagined Jason walking straight and tall with his sword in hand. No slave on Starlight could ever display such confidence, such liberty of mind and body. Surely he could be a source for tales of freedom. “I think I understand.”
Brinella gestured toward the hole. “You may enter again, and we will see what we can do to resurrect Exodus.”
five
His back bent and his head low, Tibalt skulked through the dead flowers in the meadow leading to the portal. Fortunately, they hadn’t recovered from the poison he and Randall applied earlier, so he could trample them safely without raising their sleep-inducing aroma. A weight at each hip kept him balanced: a pouch the size of a small gourd hung from his belt at one side and a sword and scabbard at the other.
As he passed by the bottomless pit, he grasped the hilt of his sword and sneaked a glance down into the darkness. No snatchers … yet. Those smoky ghosts were nowhere in sight. Picking up his pace, he chanted a poem Pappy had taught a long time ago:
Snatchers, catchers, keep away.
You can eat another day.
Bones I am, no juice or meat.
Eat my sister, she’s a treat.
When he neared the hole in the ground he and Randall had cut to free the dragons from the portal chamber, he leaned over the edge and peered in. Again, no snatchers.
Kneeling, he grasped a rope Randall had tied to a hook embedded in the ground and reeled up an attached ladder. After leaning the top of the ladder against the side of the hole, he climbed down and stepped off the lowest rung to the portal room floor. Drawing his sword, he glanced around and called out in a loud whisper. “Anyone here?”
The river rushed by on one side of the chamber, drowning out his voice. The portal wall stood on the other side. Sunlight filtered in from the opening, illuminating the horizontal row of holes in the wall.
Grinning, Tibalt flexed his fingers. “This will be as easy as playing a fiddle.” As he stepped closer to the holes, he mumbled, “Not that I ever had a fiddle, but I bet I could play one.”
He pushed the fingers of his free hand into the leftmost four holes. Then, after leaning his sword against the wall, he inserted his other fingers into the remaining holes. The wall vanished, and his sword toppled into the mining chamber on Starlight. About ten paces ahead, a stone stairway led upward, but, unlike the last time he came, no light poured in from the outside. Solarus’s rays from his own world provided only enough illumination to let him know that the front part of the mining chamber—the only part he could see from Major Four—was empty.
Tibalt sniffed, then licked his lips, grimacing. No obvious odors, but extane coated his tongue with a bitter film. That stuff tasted worse than hair tonic, though why he ever tried drinking that stuff as a child he couldn’t remember.
Using his foot, he pushed the sword the rest of the way in, then jerked out his fingers and leaped into the world of Starlight. One second later, the river disappeared, replaced by three tunnels leading deeper into the mine.
After snatching up his sword, Tibalt marched toward the stairway. “I knew I could play a fiddle.”
When he reached the top, he halted and stooped low. Ahead and above the tree line, the first hint of dawn tinted the edge of the black sky with a purplish hue. The flat ground in between stretched across the gap like a tattered black cloak, dark and lumpy with protruding trees of one kind or another.
“Well,” Tibalt muttered, “if I can’t see anyone on the ground, I’ll have to watch for those flying lizards in the sky. They should be easy enough to spot.”
He loosened his pouch’s drawstring. Digging inside, he felt around for his glow stick, whispering the names of each object his fingers came across. “Apple, vial of knockout juice, sneezing powder … Ah!” He withdrew a small cylinder the size of a finger and clutched it in his fist, ready to shake it. Then he frowned. “If I carried this beacon out there, I’d be a fool lightning bug, flashing my light like an idiot. I’d get plucked like a chicken in a hurry.”
He put the glow stick back in the bag and gazed at the dawning sky. After a few minutes, the purple edges near the horizon expanded, and a dragon flew from right to left just above the treetops. Tibalt shot to his feet. That critter was fast, but if he could figure out where it landed, he would catch up in time. If not, maybe another one would come around, and he could follow it. Even though chasing dragons wasn’t exactly a good idea for someone who wanted to keep his skin intact, it was the only option available.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the dragon, Tibalt slid his sword into his scabbard and marched forward. He tripped on a protruding stone and nearly fell headlong, but, scrambling forward, he regained his balance and stopped. As he tried to catch his breath, he shook his head. “I’ll catch up, if I don’t kill myself first.”
Then, squaring his shoulders, Tibalt strode into the darkness. Somewhere out there, Jason and Elyssa needed him, and maybe a dragon would lead the way.
Jason rode low on Fellina’s back, holding his scabbard close to his thigh while gripping a spine in front. Their approach required ultimate stealth. If the wicked dragon sisters detected a human passenger, the rescue mission would end before it began. At each side, Fellina’s wings beat in a consistent rhythm, steady and strong, even as a hefty breeze from the right buffeted her body.
Sneaking a peek back, Jason watched the dragon trailing them—Xenith, a smaller female dragon who flew with the same grace and power her mother displayed. Elyssa rode low as well, nearly invisible in the darkness.
A gust knocked Fellina to the side, forcing Jason to regrip the spine. The breeze seemed cooler now, and a slight glow at the horizon signaled dawn’s approach. Fellina had provided a filling meal of bread and sweet potato paste and then insisted on waiting until morning before embarking on this journey. She explained that the dragon sisters had locked the mill’s victims in an inaccessible cage during the night and would march them to their execution shortly after dawn. Only then would it make sense to attempt a rescue. No matter the hour of the night, one of the sisters would be awake and standing guard.
In spite of his anxiety, Jason had slept a few hours on a mat in one of the cave’s tunnels while Elyssa and Madam Orley passed the night hours in the slaves’ quarters. The food and nap helped. He felt stronger than he had in a long time.
He looked back at Elyssa. In place of the lumberjack ensemble, she now wore a red vest over a white, flowing shirt with frilled cuffs at her wrists. Fellina had retrieved it from her own sleeping quarters, explaining that Arxad once brought it home from a Promotions ceremony. In earlier days, the dragons dressed up slaves for the ceremony, and this was one of the vestments.
Fellina slowed and began a descending orbit. Between wing beats, a small flame appeared on the ground, maybe a torch or a campfire. It seemed to burn at the floor of a basin, but with only the barest of light illuminating the area, the topography remained indistinct. The basin appeared to be a sinkhole in the otherwise flat terrain, with steep drops from the circular precipice.
As quiet as an owl, Fellina settled near the precipice, her left flank toward the edge. Xenith did the same at the rear, her wings lifted to hide her rider.
“Dismount immediately,” Fellina whispered, “and conceal yourself on my right.”
Jason slid off her back and dropped to the ground, touching first with his toes and bending his knees to absorb the impact. Without so much as a sound, Elyssa copied his move and hid under Xenith’s right wing. She clutched her own sword, keeping i
t close to her body.
“As we move toward the edge of the basin,” Fellina continued, “move with us. Mallerin and Julaz have keen eyesight and hearing, so you will have to peer around our bodies with great stealth if you wish to view the obstacles you are about to encounter.”
Fellina and Xenith shuffled to the edge and sat on their haunches, their faces toward the basin, with Xenith on the left and Fellina on the right. Jason dropped to his stomach and motioned for Elyssa to do the same. They crawled over a blend of prickly heather and pebbles until they settled against the dragons’ scaly sides, Elyssa between them, and Jason to Fellina’s right.
Once in position, Jason gazed over the rim. The dawning sun provided misty light, giving shape and depth to the basin. It appeared to be about thirty feet deep and three hundred feet in diameter. A monolith stood at the center, its top nearly as high as the basin’s rim, but lack of light kept any details from clarifying. Still, the form of a dragon stalking near the monolith’s base was clear enough. Her wings stretched out, and her mouth opened wide, as if she were yawning. As she passed by a flaming torch mounted in a bracket at the monolith’s side, her size became obvious. She was considerably larger than Fellina, at least in girth.
Jason looked to his left. Elyssa lay there with her chin propped on her folded hands, her stare locked on the scene. She would be the first to know if the dragon sisters noticed their human audience.
A shout sounded from the basin, a dragon’s voice speaking in the draconic tongue. Fellina whispered to Jason. “This is Mallerin, the older sister. She wants to know who we are and why we are here.” She then answered in a series of deep grunts and a variety of shrill whistles.
Xenith lowered her head and provided the translation. “I am Fellina, mate of Arxad. My daughter, Xenith, is here. With Taushin’s rise to power now a reality, I wish for Xenith to witness the consequences of human rebellion so that she can employ the appropriate passion when warning the slaves in our domain.”
“We grind rebels, to be sure,” Mallerin replied, “but will she be able to tolerate the disposal of useless slaves?”
“Warning slaves to be industrious should carry the same passion,” Fellina said. “This is reality, and Xenith is of age.”
“So be it.” Flapping her wings and carrying a whip, Mallerin skittered to the right along the basin floor until she reached the wall, where, with sunlight now streaming in, a large hole had become apparent. Blocked by a gate made up of a matrix of slats, it appeared to be a prison cell.
Mallerin blew a jet of fire at the side of the gate until it popped ajar. Then, using her wing, she swung it outward. “Come forth!” she called, this time speaking the human language. “Or you will be cooked where you stand.”
Jason shifted his gaze back to the monolith, now clearer in the brighter light. A ladder in front led to the top where a hole lay open, wide enough for humans to enter. Near the base of the monolith, a wheel was mounted against the left side, similar to a sailing vessel’s steering wheel, though only a single handle protruded outward.
“The grinding wheel,” Jason whispered.
Elyssa glanced his way. With her brow furrowed deeply, she needed no words. The details were all too clear. The victims had to climb to the top of the monolith and drop into the hole. Then the dragon would turn the wheel and grind their bodies.
A loud crack sounded. Jason jerked around. With another crack, Mallerin snapped her whip across a muscular man’s bare shoulders. Dressed only in short trousers, the man led a procession of humans. A girl followed, her long hair tied in a rope in the back and her ribs clearly visible on her narrow frame. Dressed in the same manner as the man, she lowered her head as she inched along, her hands wringing.
“The girl is a slave from the cattle camp,” Fellina whispered. “She was likely too weak to fight for the morsels, so she became malnourished and failed to enter puberty. Now too old to remain in the camp, she went unclaimed by the Breeders. The only option is to grind her into bait, which the guardian dragons use to lure dangerous beasts into traps. We cannot afford to lose the stronger slaves to the jaws of wild animals.”
Jason kept his stare on the line, hoping Fellina’s voice was low enough to prevent the dragon sisters from hearing her explanation in the human tongue.
Two adolescent boys trailed in the procession, walking with a fully clothed man between them. One of the boys appeared to lack a lower leg and used a hefty stick to keep from falling. The other boy crossed a withered arm over his stomach, while the man walked with a slight limp.
Jason rose up a little, squinting. Could it be?
“Your father,” Elyssa whispered. “No doubt about it.”
A growl erupted unbidden, spicing his low reply. “I can’t wait any longer. I have to rescue my father.”
“Patience,” Fellina warned. “Our only chance will come when he is atop the grinding tower. You will ride on my back, and we will pluck him from the top. With enough speed and with the advantage of surprise, we should be able to avoid an attack from the sisters.”
Jason nodded at Mallerin. “But there is only one of them and two of you. Can’t we try to rescue all the humans?”
“Julaz will come. She would never miss a grinding.” Fellina let out a sigh. “Look to the left. Even now she emerges.”
A second dragon appeared from a cave on the opposite side, batting her wings just enough to scoot her hefty body toward the stone. When she arrived, she stood close to the wheel and waited, using a wing to stroke her shimmering scales, reddish in the rising sun.
“If we attack at their level,” Fellina continued, “the two of them will easily defeat us, and I will not subject Xenith to such a battle.”
“I am not afraid of them,” Xenith said, her own growl emphatic. “I can —”
“Silence!” Fellina cleared her throat and lowered her voice again. “When I fly with Jason to pick up his father, it will be your duty to distract them. Stay out of fire range. If they give chase, hurry with Elyssa to our refuge. I know for certain that you are faster than they, even with a passenger.”
A proud tone flavored Xenith’s reply. “Neither one of those fat hens can keep me in view.”
“Remember humility,” Fellina said, though her chastisement carried the same proud tone. “Your speed will serve you well as long as the Creator is pleased with your spirit.”
As the slaves approached the grinding stone, Jason tried to calm his heart. If they had to wait for his father to climb to the top before launching into the basin to pluck him from the stone, their timing had to be perfect.
The victims continued a slow march. The girl behind the lead man dragged her feet. Edison Masters, as well as his escorts, faced straight ahead, marching like mindless animals.
“Elyssa,” Jason whispered. “Something’s changed. Can you pick up anything?”
“Their minds are being affected by something. They were vibrant when they first came out of the cage, but, except for the man in front, their signals are fading.”
“Mallerin gave them a drug as they left their prison,” Fellina said. “Not only does it ease the pain of the grinding, it is the only way to get them to voluntarily climb the ladder. Forcing them is a messy business.”
“A messy business,” Jason repeated, growling again. These monsters viewed humans as slaughterhouse animals, beasts worth nothing more than the prey they feasted upon at meals. Even Fellina’s tone seemed mechanical. Obviously she knew that this butchering occurred frequently, humans with souls being mercilessly pulverized into a bloody mass day after day. Their screams didn’t bother her. No, the shredding and grinding took place out of sight, within the darkness of a stone enclosure into which no one could see except for the victims and their killers. And Fellina did nothing about it.
Taking in a deep breath, Jason clenched a fist. Well, he would do something about it. At least one of their victims would escape the grinder, and any ugly sister who tried to stop them would meet the point of his sword.
Jason swallowed. His father wasn’t first! For some reason, this scenario had never crossed his mind. A jittery “Fellina?” spilled from his lips.
“Yes?” she replied.
“The girl is going first.” He slowly rose to hands and knees. “What are we going to do?”
“Wait for your father to climb. He will go after the girl is killed. Mallerin chose the first man to perform the grinding. He will likely be spared until tomorrow.”
“But …” Jason looked at Elyssa. With her mouth hanging open, she stared at him, fear in her eyes. “But the girl. We have to rescue her.”
“We have the opportunity to rescue only one,” Fellina said. “When the sisters give up pursuit, they will grind the others. Girls such as she go to the grinding mill regularly, and she is of no value to our ultimate goal.”
As the girl neared the top of the stone, Jason repeated Fellina’s words in his mind. No value. Ultimate goal. But what was their ultimate goal?
Jason looked again. Edison reached a hand up to the girl, his expression confused. He took a step toward the stone but faltered and staggered backwards, his eyes wide as if lost in a dream.
The futile struggle resurrected a memory in Jason’s mind—his father’s spasms as he tried to breathe while lying on the Northlands healing bed. Jason had saved him then, but he would have to do otherwise now.
“No,” Jason said as he rose to his feet.
“No?” Fellina bent her neck, bringing her head close to his eyes. “Hide yourself, or your father is doomed.”
Fighting to keep his voice steady, he met her stare. “We have to save the girl.”
“Nonsense, Jason. Do not lose sight of your ultimate goal.”
He growled once again. “She is our ultimate goal!”
“Why? What is that little girl to you?”
