by Bryan Davis
She forced out a whispered word. “Alaph?”
“Do not try to speak with your voice,” Alaph said. “Use your gifts if you must communicate with me.”
With pain roaring through her body, Koren bit down on her tongue. Could she conjure another image of herself?
Concentrating on the space between her bed and the one next to it, she tried to form a copy of herself. As before with Edison, her phantom form appeared as a thin fog, barely visible. She pointed the image’s face toward Alaph, who now stood at the foot of her bed. His smooth white scales reflected lantern light, and thin red lines that crisscrossed his skin like a scarlet spider web seemed to pulse.
Koren cast thoughts at her foggy apparition. “Alaph, is Uriel really my father?”
“He is, child. It is a long story, but I will tell you a portion. When you died hundreds of years ago, Arxad and I preserved your spirit using the Reflections Crystal that now resides in the Zodiac. We knew Starlight would need you. Unfortunately, I no longer have the Reflections Crystal we used to capture your spirit, so if you die now, you will go to be with the Creator. In that case, we would have to battle the forces of evil without a Starlighter.”
Koren’s image spread out her arms, shifting her cloak. “What about Cassabrie? Her body is restored, and she is more powerful than I am. Can’t she do what I would have done?”
“Cassabrie’s path diverged from her calling long ago. She is independent and unpredictable, though I suspect that she is planning something that will restore her standing. She has embarked on a journey that will make her Starlighter gifts useless for the task I hoped you would accomplish.”
“What task?”
“There is no need to tell you just now. I want no further stress laid upon your mind.”
The biting beast within bored holes into her stomach. Koren pressed her hand hard against her abdomen, but it didn’t help. Tears trickled from her eyes, and a reddish haze coated her vision. Her phantom became almost completely transparent and began shrinking. As she choked back a sob, her image’s face twisted into a mournful frown. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I did the best I could, but I’m dying. I can feel it.”
“Yes, you are, child. But do not give up hope. Though your father is likely just now reaching the far side of the moat, all is not yet lost.”
“Couldn’t you fly him to Exodus and bring him back? What good is keeping me alive if my father doesn’t return in time?”
“Each time I approach Exodus, I risk a great deal, especially while someone is scraping its particles from the surface. If one were to blow onto me, the radiance would consume me in seconds.”
“Couldn’t you at least get him closer? You could stay at a safe distance.” Koren drooped her head. “But I guess he would have to carry a stardrop back to you. You would still be in danger.”
“Although danger to myself is a concern, there are issues that outweigh it. If I were to fly to Exodus with your father, in so doing I would destroy the opportunity to rescue an enslaved soul whose deliverance is necessary for the good of all Starlight, and even the person who holds him in bondage is in bondage herself, for her wrath is a poison that will prevent her from providing the liberation she hopes to dispense.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“Forgive me for pontificating. You were not meant to understand. I was speaking about idolatry. For some, their idol is a grudge that is nursed and prepared for the day of wrath. For others it is an end to suffering, or a beloved person, or perhaps the idea of love itself. Any idol is able to turn a mind from the Creator, so they must all be purged by choice or smashed through trials, and only then will darkness turn to light.” Alaph sighed. “But enough such babbling. It is a poor use of time for someone who has so little remaining.”
“It’s okay,” Koren whispered. “I don’t mind.”
“Your mercy is lovely to behold, and that brings me to a comforting truth. Although your body wilts and decays, your soul is in no danger. Your death is but a stepping stone to paradise. Your chains are forever broken, and death to you has no sting. You have done well, Starlighter.”
“Done well? But you said—”
“What I said is temporal. Now I speak of the eternal. Even those who do well learn temporal lessons along the way.”
As the pain in her gut worsened, the image faded away. “Good-bye, Alaph,” she said as she disappeared. “Thank you for trying.”
Koren let out a long sigh. She closed her eyes and waited for death to come. Were the old stories true? Would a winged escort fly down from the Creator’s side and carry her into paradise?
New tears leaked through. True or not, it didn’t matter. She had failed. And now there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Seconds later, darkness swept her mind into oblivion.
Six
Orson tucked Alaph’s dagger into a sheath at his belt and ran toward the moat. With the snow nearly gone, the line dividing it from the darker ground was clear. Still, since night had fallen, care was essential. The slightest misstep could send him flying into the moat where he would become food for the monsters abiding in the depths. Although Exodus, hovering silently over the river beyond the moat, provided some light, it was too far away to reveal shallow ruts in the newly uncovered ground.
Ahead, Resolute waved her arms, making her visible. “Over here!” she called.
Orson hurried to the ghostly girl’s side, braced his hands on his knees, and gasped for air. “Is your … boat ready?”
She laid a hand on her invisible craft. “It’s right here. You know what to do.”
After she stepped inside, Orson followed and sat down, ignoring a chill crawling up his spine, and drew the dagger from the sheath. The last time he crossed this moat, clawed hands shot up from the snowy surface, though they missed their target, apparently blind to the world above their view.
While Resolute dug an invisible paddle into the whiteness, Orson cast his gaze on Exodus and the snow-speckled landscape beyond. The river underneath flowed freely, yet another sign of drastic change. A light drizzle fell, mixed with sleet. The precipitation appeared to be heavier near Exodus. Vapor rose from its membrane, partially veiling the girl within.
The boat, little more than a coracle, glided slowly along. Orson looked back at the castle. Within its stately walls, Koren, his precious daughter, lay dying. At this rate, he would never be able to return with a stardop in time.
Gritting his teeth, he let out a growl. “Can’t we go faster?”
A hurt expression crossed Resolute’s face. “I dare not. Any faster and we’ll awaken the moat guardians.”
Regret stabbed Orson’s heart. He gave her an apologetic nod. “Forgive me. I misdirected my wrath. I know you’re doing your best.”
“It’s okay.” Her eyes disappeared, leaving only tiny white sparkles. “I got yelled at a lot when I was a slave.”
“I will add to your burden no more.” He glared at the fake snowdrifts surrounding the boat and tried to rein in his anxiety. Resolute’s name was certainly appropriate. She was bound and determined to cross the moat without disturbing the creatures below, but what good was it to survive this journey if he arrived too late to save Koren? “Can the guardians hurt you? If you fell into the moat, would they be able to catch you?”
She shook her head. “Being spirit, I can swim back to shore unharmed.”
“Then allow me.” He sheathed the dagger, grabbed the paddle, and thrust it into the moat. Although the “water” offered no resistance, his frantic strokes drove the boat along at double its former pace.
“Beware,” Resolute whispered, her voice coming from empty air. “They will rise at any moment.”
“Maybe we’ll get across first.”
A claw shot up from the surface and snatched the paddle from Orson’s grip. Another slapped the boat, making it rock wildly. Orson toppled to the side, but just before he fell overboard, something lifted him skyward.
A great red dr
agon carried him above the moat. With each beat of his wings, Orson’s shirt tore slightly, making him drop an inch closer to the greedy hands that swiped at him from below, each attack a narrow miss. Resolute swam back toward the castle side of the moat, pushing her boat in front.
As soon as the dragon cleared the moat, it elevated and picked up speed, heading westward toward Exodus. When it neared the river, it descended again and released Orson. He landed on his bottom and slid across the snow and mud until he came within a few paces of the brilliant star.
The dragon orbited Exodus once and landed in a skid near Orson. “Get the stardrop and climb on my back! We must hurry!”
“Magnar!” Cassabrie said. “You’re here! Where is Marcelle?”
“You are a Starlighter,” he growled. “Ask Exodus for an answer.”
Cassabrie spread out her arms. “Magnar, I sense great hostility. If I could—”
“Hostility?” Black smoke shot from his nostrils. “Now that you have been restored to your body, you have the power to destroy me. I take great risk coming here to help this human and his daughter.” Magnar’s head shot out toward Orson. “Get the stardrop!”
“Yes! Of course!” Blinking at the sleet and rain, Orson fanned away the vapor and walked toward Exodus.
Cassabrie backed the star away. “Not yet.”
“What?” Orson lunged toward her. “No! We can’t delay. My daughter is dying as we speak.”
“Koren’s life is in the Creator’s hands. What I must do cannot wait.” From within her cloak, she withdrew a black box that appeared to be the size of a typical masonry brick. “Have you already been infected?”
Grumbling, Orson touched his stomach. “Without a doubt. I have the rash and the gnawing presence within.”
“Then take your dagger and make a small slice in the star’s membrane. I will give this control box to you and immediately seal the hole. Such a quick exchange shouldn’t cause a problem with the contagion here in the Northlands. It is crucial that you take the box to Alaph. He will know what to do with it.”
Orson glanced at Magnar. Fear in his eyes proved that he wished not to arouse Cassabrie’s ire. And since she controlled the source of stardrop material, there seemed to be no option but to acquiesce. “I will do as you say.”
Pulling the dagger out, he drew closer to Exodus. The huge sphere hovered less than a foot above the ground, melting any remaining snow and turning the soil into a muddy mess.
Cassabrie lowered herself to her knees at the center of the star’s floor. At times she seemed to float, as if drawn upward by an invisible force. The star lifted, allowing him to walk to the point under the star where she held the box. As intense heat and bright light radiated from the outer membrane, sweat dripped from his hair and across his eyes. Cassabrie gazed down, her skin smooth and dry. A crown of light rested on her head, virtually undetectable from farther away.
Orson reached up and pushed the dagger’s point against the membrane, but it felt like tough leather, too strong for an easy slice. He pushed harder and harder until the blade punctured the star.
Cassabrie grunted. Orson paused. “Did I do something wrong?”
Grimacing, she waved a hand. “No. Continue. You must hurry.”
Using a sawing motion, he cut a gash that appeared to be big enough for the box to pass through.
When he withdrew the dagger and put it away, Cassabrie pushed the box into his hands, her face still contorted. As white mist seeped around her arm, she scooped sparkling radiance from the star’s outer skin and pulled it inside. As if rubbing salve on a wound, she coated the gash with the radiance, her pained expression easing. A slight sizzling noise emanated, and the mist dispersed.
“Now I see how it’s done.” Orson pushed the box into his pocket, scooped the glowing material from the membrane, and let it rest on his palm. The glittering dust stung like a swarm of hornets.
“You have to mold it,” Cassabrie said, motioning with her hands, “as if you were forming a ball of dough.”
While Orson pressed his palms together and rolled the material, sweat trickled down his cheeks. “The burns will be no worse than what the disease is doing to me, I suppose.”
“While you’re working on that …” Cassabrie rose and guided Exodus toward Magnar. He stood several paces away, his head turned to the side. “Magnar,” she called,
“look at me.”
“To be hypnotized by your charms?” He snorted. “If not for your desire to help Koren, you would have slain me by now.”
“I am not using my charms.” She raised her hands, displaying a gap where a finger should have been on each. “And if not for the wall that separates us …” A semitransparent copy of Cassabrie appeared next to Magnar. Wearing the same dress and cloak, she reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his snout. Then she backed away and vanished.
For the first time, Magnar stared directly at Exodus, his ears twitching. With every passing second, his neck sagged lower, though his eyes stayed fixed on Cassabrie. “You offer peace between us?”
Cassabrie nodded. “Peace. And forgiveness.”
Orson stared. Something like joy lit Magnar’s fiery eyes, but his countenance resumed its stern expression. His head lifted, and he seemed to grow even more massive. “Very well, Starlighter. Let there be peace.”
Cassabrie’s entire body burst into blazing light. With a smile that outshone Solarus, she guided Exodus slowly backwards. “Thank you, Magnar. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
A spike of pain brought Orson’s attention back to his hands. “Ouch!”
“I see that the stardrop is ready,” Cassabrie said. “It must be excruciating.”
As he rolled the shining sphere from palm to palm, he looked at her through the shield of fog and precipitation. “No pain is too great to endure for Koren’s sake.” He strode to Magnar’s side. “With only one hand available for climbing, I don’t think I can … well … scale your scales.”
“Then you will return by the same mode you came.” Magnar beat his wings, launched into the air, and grabbed Orson’s tunic, this time with a more secure grip. As he flew a quick orbit around Exodus, his wings cleared the air. Orson looked at Cassabrie through the star’s membrane. Still glowing with a brilliant aura, she stared at a tube-like object in her hands, gripping it tightly, her lips pressed firmly together.
Magnar straightened and zoomed toward the castle. Orson twisted his body to look at the river. Exodus drifted southward, then accelerated, Cassabrie veiled once again by vapor.
Orson turned back toward the castle. Whatever she intended to do was her business. He had to keep Koren alive, buy her more time so he could test the medicine that he hoped would ultimately cure her.
As soon as Magnar entered the castle’s open doorway, he passed a boy standing in the entry room, made a sharp left turn, and flew down a wide corridor. When they neared the healing room, he deposited Orson on the tiled floor, sending him into a sideways roll, and veered back toward the entry.
Holding his clasped hands close to his chest, Orson rode out the momentum. The final roll carried him over the roots of the healing trees. The moment he stopped, he climbed carefully to his feet and tiptoed across the fragile floor toward the last bed on the right. With every step, the stardrop sizzled in his grip, and the odor of burning flesh assaulted his nose. The pain made him dizzy and disoriented, but he couldn’t stop to steady himself. He had to go on.
When he arrived at the bed, he paused at the rail. Koren lay there, her red hair splayed across a white pillow. Her skin was ghostly white, save for the ulcers that ravaged her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Her chest lay motionless; no sign of breathing.
A sob tightening his throat, Orson laid his head on her chest and listened. A tiny thump sounded in a slow, erratic rhythm. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Trying to slow his own heart, Orson reached up to the healing tree’s outstretched hand and rolled the stardrop into its palm. Whil
e he waited, he blew on his own palms. Blood oozed from deep burns, and his breath did little to ease the pain.
The white-hot sphere sank slowly into the wood, setting the bark aglow. As sparkling particles rained down from the hand’s underside, Orson caught them. They intermingled with his blood, creating a slurry that sparkled like ruby crystals. Using both hands, he smeared the mixture across Koren’s cheeks and spread it to her forehead, throat, and chest.
At each ulcer, he massaged the crystals in. Koren winced but made no sound. Soon, the smears dried and transformed into new skin, pink and healthy. Orson lifted his hands and looked at his palms. They, too, had mended. Only bloodstains and a few minor burns remained.
Koren opened her eyes. Blinking, she looked around before setting her gaze on Orson. “Are you …” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you who I think you are?”
Tears flowing, Orson took her hand into his. With his throat tight, he had to swallow before replying. “I am your father, little K.”
“It’s true!” She shot up and threw her arms around his neck. “I dreamed about your voice!” As she kneaded his back, she wept. “Am I dead? Is this the Creator’s paradise?”
“No, dearest one. You were at death’s door, but I brought you back with a stardrop and a healing tree.”
Koren drew away and looked up at the tree’s hand. “The disease?”
“You still have it, so we have to find a permanent cure.” He lowered the bed slats. “Come. We need to test a medicine I will make from Cassabrie’s genetics.”
She wrapped her body in the sheet and, with Orson’s help, slid down to the floor. “Where are my clothes?”
“Resolute burned your clothes and disinfected your cloak. I’ll show you where to get dressed.” He set a hand on her back and guided her toward the door. Even through the sheet, her skin felt hot. Although the ulcers had cleared, fever remained.
