by Bryan Davis
A new image entered her mind, Adrian bowing as he forfeited the tourney match, and his words followed, barely a moment after she had parroted his usual forfeiture. “Let it be as you have spoken.”
Now her heart ached. She had mocked him! And even when she offered an apology, it rang hollow, a noisy gong that he rightfully rejected with a simple, “Tell it to the crowd. Then I’ll believe you.”
And, of course, she had kept silent, too proud to risk her esteem in the eyes of the nobility. Yet, Adrian risked his. No, he obliterated it. And why? Because he refused to break his code of honor, his belief in protecting women and children, no matter how insolent and prideful they were. He never allowed them to suffer. Never. Even if it meant being dragged away to execution by a scaly beast.
Marcelle took in a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt of Adrian’s sword. She would make everything right, or die trying.
As Nancor flew, his claws ripped at Adrian’s nerves, forcing his shoulders and back to tighten. Spasms clenched his muscles. Pure torture. The sadistic dragon offered no pity. In fact, he frequently forced Adrian into a sway, tightening his grip with each swing. Malice. Evil malice.
Bullets of pain shot up and down Adrian’s spine and into his head. His vision blurred. His thoughts fogged. Even his memory of why this strange creature was carrying him seemed too difficult to hold in the forefront. Survival. That instinct constantly pushed through as his only clear thought. Somehow, he had to escape.
A soothing voice drifted through his mind. “Adrian, I am with you. I cannot purge the pain from your body, but I can spread balm across your spirit.”
Like the strengthening light of a newly lit lantern, Adrian’s senses began to clear. Cassabrie. He wasn’t alone. Someone loved him. Someone cared.
“Cassabrie,” he whispered, his words shattered by the pain. “Any help … you can offer …”
“Shhh, dear Adrian. Spare your strength. When we come to Arxad, I will try to gauge his state of mind. He is not exactly predictable. In the meantime, I will do what I can to distract you from your suffering.”
As the wind whistled in his ears, deep within his mind a new sound emerged, Cassabrie’s singing voice, yet not that of the youthful songstress who serenaded during their journey through the flowers. Her tone deepened to a mature alto as she crooned a haunting melody.
The claw of bondage
Penetrates
Mutilates
You share their pain
Deep within
Feel the sin
That binds their wrists, their legs, their hearts
And pierces souls with angry darts
Deflating hope and ceasing prayer
To God above who doesn’t care
Or isn’t there
Is life unfair?
Yet this I swear
If heroes march into the square
Their swords withdrawn, their courage bared
Then hands unbound will fill the sky
And hope restored will make them fly
To lands of freedom, chains asunder
To clap and worship, hearts in wonder
That God in mercy heard their cries
And sent a friend who dried their eyes
And now my friend
Cry with me
Bleed with me
You share my pain
On your back
Feel the rack
That stretches souls till faith is bare
And shackles hearts and sows despair
For slavish strife and brutal bonds
Destroy all hope in life beyond
This darkened pond
Will you respond?
And bring our dawn?
Cassabrie repeated the refrain, this time with passion unmatched by any fiery prophet in any world.
When heroes march into the square
Their swords withdrawn, their courage bared
Then hands unbound will fill the sky
And hope restored will make them fly
To lands of freedom, chains asunder
To clap and worship, hearts in wonder
That God in mercy heard their cries
And sent a friend who dried their eyes
Finally, Cassabrie’s voice faded away, but her words continued to echo. “Will you respond? … Will you respond?”
Adrian’s pain, so intense, so piercing, had become profound. Pain was a thief. It stole hope and replaced it with despair. And his own pain had lasted only minutes, enough to stretch his faith to the breaking point. What had years of toil and torture wrought in the slaves of this land? Surely, despair and misery beyond comprehension had shaken their foundations and ripped the heart of hope out of many.
Adrian relaxed his muscles. The spasms subsided. As the pain diminished, he whispered, “Thank you, Cassabrie. I understand now.”
The voice of the teenaged Cassabrie returned. “I sang it, Adrian, because I believe in you.”
Adrian took in a deep breath. I believe in you. Such beautiful words. Ah, what solace! An infusion of energy. He would respond. This journey wasn’t over. Not yet.
Soon, a group of buildings came into view, a few tall edifices along with one-story structures nestled in between. The dragon orbited a building that boasted at least ten glass-like spires encircling a central dome with a hole at its apex.
Nancor dove toward the hole. The claws dug in deeper. Adrian held his breath. No crying out. No groaning. A display of courage and resolve might be his only hope.
They descended through the opening and into a circular room bordered by beds of smooth stones and cacti. Irregular black tiles covered the floor, making the surface look like cracked coal. Lanterns lined the perimeter wall, providing undulating orange light, enough to illuminate the courtyard in the deepening twilight.
Swooping low, Nancor released Adrian. He tumbled over the slatelike tiles, then slid, the blood on his shirt providing lubrication. When his feet struck something solid, he finally stopped. Bending his neck, he looked up. A dragon stood there, bigger and more muscular than Nancor, yet wounded. Cuts and scratches marred his wings, but no blood dripped anywhere. It appeared that he had suffered recent injuries and had already tended to his wounds. An ovular bundle sat next to him, something wrapped in a dark sheet. The dragon glanced at it before training his stare on Adrian.
Adrian blinked, trying to focus as he breathed out, “Cassabrie?”
“This dragon is Arxad,” she said. “We are blessed. Yet, he appears to be hurt. I have never seen him like this.”
Adrian tried to smile, but spasms in his shoulders overwhelmed his relief at seeing Arxad. He settled his head against the tiles and tried to relax his muscles as he whispered, “Any advice is welcome.”
“If Arxad detects my presence, there is very little I can do. My gifts are not as effective over someone who is prepared to resist them, but I will do what I can.”
As Nancor landed next to him, his wings cast a breeze across Adrian, cooling his skin. Arxad and Nancor spoke in the dragon language, and Cassabrie translated immediately, making the conversation easy to follow.
“Why have you brought this human?” Arxad asked. “Are not the children in the cattle camps enough of a responsibility?”
Still breathless from carrying his load, Nancor replied. “He intruded … killed Millence … confessed his crime and asked for your protection.”
A low growl rumbled in Arxad’s throat. “If he confessed to killing a dragon, then you are not required to grant access to me. You had the right to execute him immediately.”
Nancor’s voice settled. “Yes, I know, but he tricked me in the bargaining process. I granted him access in exchange for his confession.”
“That is an odd bargain. He is still a prisoner and will be condemned. Why would he settle for that?”
“There is more. In order to punish the humans for killing Millence, I had chosen five children to die. He bargained to spare their live
s.”
Arxad’s ears flattened. “So we have only this single human in exchange for the death of a dragon? Do you think a dragon life and a human life are equal?”
“No, Arxad. I killed the overseer who neglected to tell me of his presence.” Nancor lowered his head. “I hoped that was enough, but I see now that I was wrong. Allowing him to deceive me will surely be a bad mark on my record.”
“Perhaps we can avoid that mark.” Arxad looked at the hole in the curved ceiling. “Tell Magnar that we have a dragon killer in custody and that I have requested a trial with him alone. Pray that he does not ask you questions that will reveal your mistake. Then you may fly back to your post.”
“Thank you for your mercy.” Nancor spread out his wings and vaulted toward the hole. Within seconds, he was gone.
Adrian sat up slowly and exhaled. “Whew! I’m glad to be free from his clutches.”
“Free?” Arxad shouted in the human tongue. He swung his tail around and smacked Adrian across the face, knocking him back. “You are a fool! How dare you kill a dragon and then ask for my protection? Do not think for one moment that I will do anything to set a dragon murderer free.”
“Adrian!” Cassabrie said. “Arxad doesn’t know who you are. Introduce yourself, but exercise humility, not familiarity.”
Adrian propped himself on an elbow and rubbed his stricken cheek. “Right. He doesn’t. I thought—”
“You thought?” Arxad’s head shot forward and stopped within inches of Adrian’s nose. “You did not think! If you want to help the cattle children, then stay away from them!”
“Arxad,” Adrian said. “I am Adrian, from Darksphere.”
“As if that matters! If you had a particle of sense in your biped brain you would have discerned that killing dragons is not the way to free your kind.”
“I didn’t want to kill him. You see, Mar—” Adrian bit his tongue. Implicating Marcelle would be the worst move possible. After staring at the dragon’s fiery eyes for a few seconds, he let out a sigh. “I had no choice.”
“No choice?” Arxad drew back and thumped his tail against the floor. “Then will you be satisfied if we have no choice but to put you to death?”
“I was hoping you would defend me.”
“Defend you?” Arxad’s nostrils flared. “Did you kill Millence in self-defense? Did he attack you first?”
“One of the little girls tripped and spilled her pail of rocks, so Millence started beating her. Of course, I wanted to stop him, so—”
“Do you think a few stripes on the back of a cattle child should result in the death of the one inflicting them?”
“How was I supposed to know that he wasn’t going to kill her?”
Arxad roared, and smoke billowed from his mouth and nostrils. “Stranger from another world, how dare you assume that we would kill a slave for such a trivial mistake! Are you so arrogant that you believe your species is the only one with an understanding of justice? Are you so self-absorbed that you believe humans to be the only species of worth? That you can take the life of a dragon because you assumed that a cattle child’s life might be in danger?”
Adrian looked away, aching to explain his desire to free the slaves by stealth rather than by direct force, that someone else had made the fatal decision. He breathed another sigh. “I see your point.”
“And you see it too late.” Arxad looked at Adrian, apparently focusing on his chest. “Stand, human.”
Grimacing with every movement, Adrian struggled to his feet.
Arxad stepped closer, smoke still streaming from his nose. “Cassabrie is with you.”
Adrian glanced at the patch on his skin, exposed by his open shirt. The bandage had shredded and fallen off. Now glowing reddish orange instead of yellow, the patch stung, but only a little. “She has been very helpful.”
“Yet not helpful enough to advise you to spare Millence.”
“She didn’t have time. It all happened too fast.”
“Too fast?” Arxad’s ears rotated halfway around, an angry-looking posture, but his smoke dwindled. “Would you have been so quick to kill a human?”
“If he was attacking a defenseless little girl?” Adrian firmed his jaw. “Without a doubt.”
“Your attitude is most interesting.” Arxad stared into his eyes again. “Cassabrie, come out. You must not be within him during the investigation.”
Adrian’s lips moved, and his voice passed through. “Yes, my lord.”
He touched his mouth. This was new, Cassabrie using his body to speak out loud.
“Adrian,” Cassabrie said in his mind. “Remember what I told you about our closeness. This separation will likely be very painful.”
A cold sensation erupted within his chest and radiated toward his skin. The glowing patch burned, like a fire-heated poker plunging through. Both icy cold and scalding heat knifed into his breast. He arched his back. It seemed that someone was peeling his heart with a dagger and drawing the membrane out—cutting, tearing, pulling.
The pain was too horrible. He couldn’t hold it in. Like an explosion, he cried out in a long, loud wail. It seemed that a claw was ripping his soul from his body.
A shimmering ray of light poured out from the skin patch. As it flowed, it collected in a rising column on the floor, and the patch shrank and cooled.
The pain eased. Adrian relaxed his muscles and exhaled. The light formed into Cassabrie’s familiar shape, a girl of pure radiance. With her hands folded at her waist and her head dipped low, her countenance contradicted her radiant persona—sadness, disappointment, and pain seemed to dim her glow until she faded into transparency.
Adrian set a hand over his heart. The patch had disappeared. The warmth had fled, and a sense of cold washed through his body. He shivered. Cassabrie, the indwelling furnace, was gone. And with the cold, emptiness filtered in—loneliness, darkness, solitude. A dungeon.
He swallowed through a tightened throat. His wounds ached. His arms and legs felt limp. Had she energized him that much?
Cassabrie’s form reappeared for a moment as she dipped into a graceful curtsy. “I am at your command, Arxad.”
“Be ready,” Arxad said. “I will require your talent while I am conducting my investigation.” He touched a support column with his tail. The lanterns began winking out one by one. As the light dwindled, the ovular bundle glowed with a purple aura, as if the object inside possessed an energy source.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Arxad lifted the bundle with a claw, then half-walked, half-flew to a darker area in the chamber. When he returned, he no longer carried the bundle. He shuffled toward the center of the courtyard, his eyes aimed upward. With darkness now almost complete inside the room as well as out, the opening above appeared to blend in with the surrounding black ceiling.
When the final lantern died away, a low grinding sound descended. The hole shrank and disappeared.
A slight glow emanated from the center of the room. A sphere sat atop a head-high crystalline column embedded in the floor, casting just enough radiance to reveal its presence. Dots of light appeared on the ceiling, like stars in the sky.
Arxad set his clawed hand on the sphere. A shadow in the shape of his draconic hand covered the stars. “Since Nancor agreed to bring you to me, I am obligated by the duties of my priestly office to investigate,” he said. “But if I can find no defense for your actions, I cannot be your counselor. It would be a charade and a waste of time.”
Adrian gave him a submissive nod. “I understand.”
When Arxad lifted his hand, the stars reappeared. “I have watched humans for a long time, and I have learned to be an excellent judge of their character. I know when they lie, when they hide truth, and when they speak with hidden meanings. Most do so to prevent their backs from being flayed, their self-preservation instincts trying to keep their skin intact. Yet, I have not learned why a few individuals hide truth at their own hurt, as you are doing now.”
Adrian pointed at himself. “As
I am doing? What makes you say that?”
“I know you are withholding information from me, and your reason cannot be for self-preservation, because at the present course, your death is the only possible end.”
Adrian took a few steps closer to the glowing sphere. “Would it be strange for a person to withhold information in order to protect someone else?”
“It is strange, indeed. With the exception of parents protecting their children, it is extremely rare for a human to choose a sacrificial death.” Arxad extended his neck and studied Adrian’s face. “Judging by your age and the fact that you have embarked on a nearly suicidal quest, my guess is that you are childless.”
Adrian nodded. “I am not even married.”
“Oh, yes. Married. I nearly forgot that humans are required to do that on Darksphere.”
Adrian pondered the comment for an instant but let it pass. Whether or not he understood made little difference now. “May I ask you a question, good dragon?”
Arxad appeared to smirk, but only for a brief moment. “Whether or not I am good, I will leave you to judge, but feel free to ask. I do not promise an answer.”
“On one occasion when Cassabrie visited my world, she left a tricornered hat and a video tube. The hat belonged to my brother Frederick, and the tube recorded part of his actions here. What do you know about these things?”
“I know a great deal about them.” Arxad’s wing bent around, and the tip pressed against his chest. “I have met Frederick myself, and I was very impressed with his valor, integrity, and passion. I gave Cassabrie the hat and video tube to leave on Darksphere in order to draw more humans into contact with us.”
