by Bryan Davis
“Excellent. I am sure Fellina will be pleased to check for your messages frequently.”
“Yes …” Arxad’s head drooped. “Fellina.”
“In any case,” Magnar continued, “with Tamminy’s prophecy looming over us, it will be important to see how the humans progress. They must be ready for when we need them.”
“But no gunpowder.”
Magnar shook his head. “When the prince is born, we will need their numbers. If they had gunpowder, they would be able to subdue us again.”
“Very well.” Arxad gently pushed an egg past the row of pegs. It disappeared. He did the same with the second egg. As soon as it faded from view, he took to the sky and circled once around the clearing. He then swooped down, grasped the sheep pen with his back claws, and flew over the portal line, instantly vanishing.
The entire scene faded with him, leaving Koren alone in the white expanse, save for her black dress and boots lying on the floor. She released her cloak and let it settle, then looked around the room.
“What now?” she called. “What do I do about Exodus?”
The room faded from white to various shades of brown, the colors of the rocks in the star chamber. The curved wall within Exodus, now smooth and clear, gave the chamber’s boundaries a vibrant sheen, but they seemed to be moving.
Koren looked down. The floor lay a hundred feet below, and the gap widened with every second. Above, the exit point at the top of the mountain grew brighter.
She and Exodus would soon emerge into the sky to begin their journey.
Her dress and boots appeared at the corner of her eye, lying in a heap between her and the star’s wound. That wouldn’t do, not here in Exodus. Those foul clothes had to go.
She gathered the bundle into her arms and pushed it into the wound. As the sides stretched out, a terrible pain ripped through her arms and legs, like someone had grabbed her skin and tried to tear it loose.
When the clothes finally popped through and fell toward the floor, the hole eased back to its original size, and the pain slowly ebbed. What a relief! Now Exodus could rise unencumbered, powered by a healthy Starlighter.
As she watched the boots strike the floor, light from the star’s upper boundary streamed down and passed through the wound. Exodus’s ascent slowed, becoming almost imperceptible.
Koren turned and set her back against the escape hole, blocking the light’s exit. Above, the mountain’s opening lay only a few feet away. Would she make it? Was there still enough light from her tale to push Exodus past the rim?
Just as the top of the star reached the exit, it stopped and began a slow drift downward.
“No!” Koren shouted. “Not now! We were almost there!”
The star’s descent hastened. Its outer membrane bumped against the sides of the passageway, breaking rocks and sand from the walls.
“Starlight!” Koren shouted, lifting her arms from where she sat. “Hear my command and release your secrets!”
As the rough slide continued, it seemed that dragon claws scratched her own skin, digging toward her bones. No words came to mind. Like a spilled pitcher, she felt empty and without hope of being filled.
A light at the center of the sphere came into view, a shining dome with flashing spires floating head high, like a radiant crown waiting for a queen. Sparks drizzled from the dome and rained to the star’s floor.
Koren gazed at the dazzling display. Had Taushin been right about a crown after all? Brinella had said that she couldn’t relay Starlight’s tales from the side of the sphere. She had to be at the center. But could someone tell a tale from that point, inflate the star, and run back to the hole to keep the energy from leaking out? It seemed impossible.
She climbed to her feet and half ran, half skidded to the center. Ducking under the dome, she allowed the sparks to trickle over her head. Immediately hundreds of words flashed through her mind and then poured out her mouth, so quickly she couldn’t understand them. Light pulsed with every word, and the energy flowed toward the ceiling.
Exodus slowed its descent until it halted, then, as if pushed by a lazy laborer, began ascending once more, crawling along at a frustratingly slow pace. Yet the star again drew close to the exit—so close that if she were to ride on top, she could easily reach up and grab the rim.
As before, light streams crawled down the sphere’s sides and filtered out the wound. The top third of Exodus poked out of the mountain’s cone and stopped before easing down once again.
“No!” Koren cried. “I’m doing everything I can!”
Even as she spoke, the stardrop, still shining on the floor, caught her attention. There was more she could do. Unless Exodus rose again, there would always be need of pheterone reserves and slaves to drill for them. Even if she could get the star to fly, the remedy it provided wouldn’t last, not without constant superhuman effort. There was no way she could keep up this frantic pace. And who could tell if Taushin would honor his word and free the slaves during the short time she could keep Exodus aloft?
Natalla came to mind again, her wrists clamped in manacles. Petra entered next, blood oozing from between her lips as she wept over her severed tongue. Finally, Lattimer appeared in front of her, his mouth agape as she finished telling her very first Starlighter tale. She dropped to her knees and repeated the closing phrase she had uttered not so long ago. “May the Creator of All guide me as I seek the path to enlightenment and the succor that a girl of my age needs in this dark and dangerous world.”
Lattimer pinched the stardrop and set it in front of Koren’s eyes. “Freedom from chains is not the end of the journey, dear Starlighter. It is only the beginning. Every step from here to eternity has the potential for tears as we sacrifice, as we bleed for others, as we take their burdens upon ourselves. We must be willing to stand in flames for them.” He pressed the stardrop closer to her eyes. “As I did for you.”
His words echoed through her own lips. “As I did for you.”
When Lattimer faded, the stardrop once again sat at the lowest point of the sphere. Below, the chamber’s floor drew closer, illuminated by Exodus’s light.
A tear trickled down Koren’s cheek, then another. A spasm heaved in her chest. Weeping, she picked up the stardrop, stumbled toward the breach, and knelt in front of it. She mashed the stardrop between her palms and made a paste, then dug out a glob with her finger and dabbed the top of the rip, smearing it downward across the wound. Like thick honey, the paste adhered to the sides and stitched them together. Every option had vanished. She was either going to be the world’s Starlighter or not a Starlighter at all.
Her vision glazed by tears, she applied glob after glob until she had sewn up the entire hole. She rose and staggered back to the center, lowering her head to get under the radiant dome. As she straightened, she pushed her head up into the cap. When her hair touched the light, the cap snapped down and attached to her scalp.
A shock jolted Koren’s spine. She stiffened, crying out as sizzling pain roared to her fingers and toes. Her arms shriveled and withdrew into her shoulders. Her feet dwindled until only stumps remained below her knees. Finally, her entire body shrank into a ball, and she floated in place.
The shock simmered to raging heat, then to soothing warmth. Every muscle ache and every pang of hunger fled away. She floated in the midst of a river. A warm spring of water buoyed her body, keeping her motionless in the current. Yet she stayed dry. The water wasn’t wet at all. It was light, pure light. And as the energy washed over her, the light transformed into information, a stream of words that jelled in her mind, pushed to the outer part of her spherical body, and sloughed off into whispering streams as Brinella had once created.
With awareness of her surroundings clarifying, she stretched out her body. Arms protruded at her sides, and legs extended underneath. She stood once again at the center of the star’s floor. Below, the chamber rushed away. Above, the mountain exit zipped toward her. Then Exodus shot out of the cone and flew into the open air.
After she and Exodus ascended well above the peak, Koren spread out her arms. “Not so high,” she whispered.
As if responding to her command, Exodus leveled out and began a slow descent. The world of Starlight lay before her—the castle with its sun-drenched turrets and columns; the snow-draped hills of the Northlands, dotted with evergreens and striped by the ice-covered river; the flowered meadows that lay south of the white cap, bordered by the south-flowing river.
Beautiful! Magnificent!
Words flowed into her mind, and a tune sewed them into a song.
Exodus arise and shine,
Cast your light about!
Slaves in chains upon this sod
Dance and sing and shout!
Freedom comes adorned with light;
Make the blinded see.
Love arrives encased in fire;
Set the captives free.
As she sang, a gaseous vapor emanated from Exodus’s membrane and diffused into the air.
Koren laughed. Pheterone! She was doing it! She was spreading pheterone into the atmosphere! Now the slaves wouldn’t have to drill for the dragons’ precious gas. They wouldn’t have to be slaves at all!
Koren looked at the castle. Exodus drifted that way, apparently following her mental cue. “No,” she whispered. “We need to go south.”
As Exodus began a slow turn, a dark blotch on the snow came into view, slowly climbing the castle’s outer stairs. Koren shifted back and hovered about thirty feet above the creature. With wings folded in, Taushin sniffed the stairs, apparently following a trail.
Koren gasped. He hadn’t gone back to the Southlands! Had he stayed to learn what she would decide? If he was tracking her, he would find her discarded clothing in the star chamber. He was smart enough to figure out why she would leave it behind, and, even blind, he could detect that Exodus wasn’t there.
Taking a deep breath, Koren urged Exodus southward. She was free now. Taushin would trouble her no more. She would spread pheterone throughout the planet and urge the dragons to set her people free. After all, she was a Starlighter, and now she could use her power to persuade even the most stubborn dragons.
seven
As Xenith dove through a gap in the forest canopy, barely missing branches with her wings, Elyssa hung on to her neck and stayed as low as possible. With Fellina’s help, they had escaped Mallerin’s pursuit. Then, after hiding for a few hours in a remote cave, they flew here to the family’s enclave, whatever that was.
As soon as Xenith landed in front of a moss-covered boulder, Elyssa tossed her sword to the ground, jumped from the dragon’s back, and ran around to face her. “Is your wing all right?”
Xenith nodded. “I think so.”
“I wish I could do something for you.” Elyssa shifted to Xenith’s side and caressed her wing. A purple bruise covered a double-fist-sized section of the mainstay, the product of her collision with Mallerin in the heat of the battle. Xenith moaned at the touch.
Elyssa grimaced. “Sorry.”
“I require no sympathy.” Xenith’s tone seemed defeated rather than annoyed. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Well, let me know if you think of something I can do.” Elyssa scanned the area. There was no sign of Fellina.
Xenith, too, looked up, her ears twitching. “I hope Mother arrives soon. I know of this place only because she and Father pointed it out from the air. I do not know where to go from here.”
“And I want to find out what happened to Jason and his father. If she wasn’t able to rescue them, I’ll have to go back.” Elyssa pinched a bit of moss from the smooth, dark boulder, a granitelike stone about twice the height of a dragon and sixty feet in circumference. Setting her feet to stay balanced on the sloping terrain, she studied the surrounding flora. A mixture of evergreens and molting deciduous trees surrounded the clearing, dense enough to hide them from ground-level eyes. The arching branches provided an umbrella to keep them from being seen by all but the keenest flying searchers. It seemed to be a good hiding place indeed.
“I think we’re safe until she shows up.” Elyssa drew the moss to her nose, rubbed it between her thumb and finger, and sniffed. The variety indicated a humid region, and its current moisture content proved that it had rained recently. “I tried to keep track of where we are. We’re near the base of the southern mountains, right?”
Xenith nodded. “This is considered the edge of the wilderness. The closest pheterone mine is about five miles to the northeast. In fact, this boulder is the marker where Magnar hoped to extend the western side of the barrier wall, but my father said it was a low-priority goal since slaves fear coming this far, and the wilderness and mountains provide a natural barrier. If you travel farther south, the mountains become too steep and treacherous. Western trails lead to lower elevations, but a traveler will encounter impassable swamps where beasts, snakes, and insects will devour even the heartiest of humans.”
“Interesting.” Elyssa took in a deep draw of air, studying its flavor as it entered her nostrils and coated her lungs with its wild freshness. The environment felt similar to the place she had left Wallace and the rescued cattle children. Maybe they were close by.
She mentally probed the area for other forms of life. Smells, tastes, and sounds proved that it abounded here — birds in the branches, slugs under fallen logs, small mammals hiding close by, one making a chittering noise that reminded her of the silly call Tibalt made while following a rat through the dungeon maze.
Using her mind, she followed the sound as it drew her deep into the thicket. A presence stalked the forest, far more intelligent than a chittering squirrel. It possessed emotions that reflected those of humans, the clearest one being self-defense, readiness to fight or fly. Yet it appeared to be more frightened than menacing, perhaps wary of a dragon intruder.
“Hello?” Elyssa called as she scanned the ground for her sword. “Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you.”
Xenith blocked her face with a wing. “Quiet! What do you think you are doing?”
Elyssa pushed the wing out of the way. “Just trust me.”
“Trust a human from another world who has spent no more than a few days here?” Xenith wrapped the wing around her, blocking her vision, and dragged her close to the boulder. “You need to consult me before doing something so brash.”
“Unhand that girl!” A rustling noise followed the new voice. “Or unwing her, if that’s what you dragons understand.”
“I will not be commanded by a human,” Xenith growled.
“Then be persuaded by this!”
A stinging odor penetrated Xenith’s protective wing. Xenith sneezed and staggered back, releasing her captive. Now free, Elyssa squinted at a gray cloud hanging in the air and inhaled the peppery dust, then pinched her nostrils shut to prevent a sneeze.
An old man strode into the clearing, a sword in hand, but his unbalanced gait indicated that he was something less than a warrior. His stringy gray hair and unkempt beard prodded Elyssa’s memory. “Tibalt?”
“Yes, of course. How many old coots like me have you met?” He pointed the sword at Xenith and dug into a pouch at his side. “Now if you don’t let her go, I will speak the magic words that will turn a dragon into a chicken.”
“A chicken?” Xenith snorted the remains of the dust from her nostrils and drew back her head. “Beware, foolish human. You will be a torch before you can part your lips again.”
Elyssa eyed Tibalt’s fingers. Did he really have something more than sneezing powder in there, or was he bluffing? “Xenith, he’s a friend of mine. He’s harmless.”
“Very well.” Xenith drew her wing in. “But I do not trust humans who threaten me.”
Elyssa bolted forward and embraced Tibalt. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Tibalt patted her on the back. “The feeling is mutual.” He drew away, lowering his sword. “So is this dragon on our side?”
Elyssa glanced at Xenith, then lowered her voice to
a whisper. “She is loyal to the ideals of her parents, Arxad and Fellina. They are on the side of justice and liberty, but their love for their own species comes before regard for humans.”
“Fair enough.” Tibalt sheathed his sword. “I feel the same way … but humans first, of course.”
Elyssa took him by the arm and led him closer to the boulder, picking up her sword along the way. “We’re waiting for Xenith’s mother to join us. Tell me what’s going on back home.”
As they settled cross-legged on the carpet of grass and leaves, Xenith shuffled to the center of the clearing, her gaze constantly focused on the sky.
“Well,” Tibalt began, “Orion would have us believe that he has had a change of heart. He says that he’s given up his witch hunting. When you come back, you will abide in peace.”
Elyssa rolled her eyes. “The peace of the grave. If you believed him, then you must have contracted dungeon fever.”
“Oh, I didn’t believe a word of it. You can’t fool an old fooler like me.”
Elyssa laughed. “Okay, but how did the old fooler find his way here?”
Tibalt touched the side of his nose with a gnarled finger. “I’m a tracker, I am. Better than a palace hound.”
“Really? Whose scent did you pick up?”
“Whose scent?” Tibalt pushed his finger into the moist soil and drew a line. “Well …”
“C’mon, Tibalt. You can’t fool a Diviner, either.”
“Well, the truth is, I didn’t have a clue where to start looking for you, so I followed a flying dragon’s trail for a while, but I lost sight of him. Then I saw a different dragon fly down into the woods, so I figured that was the best place to start.”
Elyssa grasped his arm. “Thank you, Tibalt. I’m glad to have a warrior at my side.”
For the next several minutes, the two exchanged stories, Elyssa finishing with their recent rescue attempt at the grinding mill. “So we’re waiting for a report, and if Jason and his father are still in trouble, I have to get back to that basin.”
