Masters & Slayers (Tales of Starlight)

by Bryan Davis

  “You have had ample time to consider my words,” Arxad said. “When the Starlighter returns, you must prepare yourself and guard your mind. For now, you have another decision to make. If you are sentenced to death, I can rescue your spirit and take you to the Northlands, just as I did for Cassabrie. The process is extremely painful, but it has never failed. Another alternative is to be executed without my help, and your spirit will go to wherever your god directs it. A final option is to fight for your life so that you can join Marcelle and help her rescue your fellow humans. As it stands, she is on this journey alone and has little hope of success without you.”

  Adrian firmed his jaw. “If you remove my spirit, will I be with Cassabrie forever?”

  “Yes, if that is your wish. I will be able to arrange it.”

  Adrian pictured Marcelle skulking through the forest, guiding a line of children out of the cattle camp. With her intellect and warrior skills, surely she would be able to lead them home. Wasn’t she always the supremely confident sword maiden? Didn’t she strut into the tourney ring and mock him in front of everyone? Such unbridled bravado could accomplish anything. And her actions proved that she cared for only one person—Marcelle. Her subsequent apologies had been private. So far, nothing she had done made up for the shame she had cast upon him. She hadn’t sacrificed her position or her status in the eyes of the people. Let her get the glory for rescuing the slaves. She could have it.

  Besides, without a weapon, fighting for freedom would be impossible. Surviving to live with Cassabrie seemed to be the only viable option.

  He took in a deep breath. “Then I choose to—”

  “Shh!” Arxad’s neck stretched out, and his head drifted past the book. He sniffed the stage area several times. “This is good, exactly what I was hoping for. It is the traditional time for a Separators’ meeting, but I was not informed of the schedule because I have been away.”

  “What is a Separators’ meeting?”

  “A meeting of the dragon elders. You will soon learn more.” Arxad nodded at the ovular bundle. “Pick up the egg and bring it with us, and do be careful.”

  Adrian looked at the bundle, still glowing slightly. The egg? He slid both hands under it, sheet and all, and carried it at his waist. It was heavier than he expected, about the weight of his fishing boat anchor, and it was warm to the touch, quite warm, in fact.

  Using a wing, Arxad guided him toward the bell rope. After Adrian set the egg down, the two stood in the midst of the shadows and peered out at the stage, pedestal, and fire. With a low whisper, Arxad said, “Perhaps what you learn here will help you with your decision. It is why I came to this room in the first place.”

  A dim light shone from above, Cassabrie climbing down the rope and carrying a dark shirt with long sleeves. With her body appearing and vanishing, it sometimes seemed that the shirt floated next to her shining form. When she set her feet on the floor, she bowed her head toward Arxad. “All is well. I did not see Zena.”

  Adrian removed his old shirt and took the replacement. As he slid an arm through a sleeve, Cassabrie touched his chest, her fingers now the only visible part of her body. “Let me come into you first.”

  Adrian stopped and looked at Arxad. The dragon gave him a quick, noncommittal glance and turned away.

  “Let’s wait,” Adrian said. “There’s a dragon meeting coming up, so—”

  “All the more reason for our union. I can translate in your mind.” She rubbed her finger along the spot where the pulsing skin patch used to be. The touch felt like a warm mug filled with something sweet—comforting and promising pleasure. The outline of her face appeared, and her eyes glowed soft green. “So may I come into you now?”

  “Well, I do need to hear what’s going on.”

  Arxad whispered, “You will understand all you need to know even without translation.”

  Adrian slid his hand under her fingers. “Let’s wait. I should … well, it’s hard to explain.”

  The glow in her eyes dimmed. “Adrian, I will abide by your wishes, of course. Just let me know when you decide you need me.”

  “Quiet,” Arxad warned. “They are coming.”

  Adrian quickly put the shirt on and turned to watch.

  From a wide entryway at the opposite side of the room, a big red dragon flew in and settled on the stage. As soon as his wings folded and he sat on his haunches, five other dragons followed through the entry, shuffling along instead of flying. They took places in the audience area, each one quiet and somber.

  Arxad’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “The dragon on the decision platform is Magnar. Stay here. There is no way of escape.” He extended a leg as if to join the other dragons, then pulled it back. His expression seemed filled with curiosity, though Adrian wasn’t sure. Dragons’ faces weren’t as readable as those of humans.

  A glow appeared at Adrian’s side. Cassabrie’s body shimmered, hot and bright, giving clarity to her form and face. Her brow knitted deeply, her eyes blazed green, and her hair turned bright red, flapping as if whipped by a breeze.

  Arxad wrapped her in a wing, hiding her glow. She offered no resistance, but the wing’s trembling membrane proved that her rage burned on.

  When the dragons in the audience settled, Magnar spoke in a low tone, a series of guttural rumbles and growls. With each pause in his speech, the five in the audience nodded and murmured.

  Then, from the same entrance, another dragon, a smaller one that resembled Millence, used an uplifted whip to herd a line of four humans—a man, a woman, and two female children. Staring straight ahead as if dazed, they ambled slowly until they reached the front of the stage and stopped between the pedestal and the fire. They gawked at Magnar, their mouths partially open. Drool leaked from one of the girls in a long strand that nearly reached the floor.

  As Adrian watched the family, a medicine-like aroma trickled into his nostrils. These people had been drugged.

  The family continued to gape in a stupor, each one a portrait of perfect compliance. The smaller dragon rifled through the book and set a claw on its chosen page. Then, after reading the text in the dragon language, he passed the whip to Magnar.

  With a loud crack, Magnar snapped the whip over the drooling girl’s shoulder. “On your knees!” he shouted in the human tongue. “All of you!”

  The dark-haired girl, maybe nine years old, flinched but didn’t cry out. The four lowered themselves to their knees, their eyes and mouths still wide.

  Adrian reached for his sword but swiped across empty air. No hilt, no scabbard, no hatchet. Here he was, the rescuing warrior with no way to do anything about the injustice occurring right before his eyes.

  “Krelin, what are their past placements?” Magnar asked, still speaking human.

  The smaller dragon replied in a higher pitch. “The husband was a logger, and the wife was a seamstress. They lived together in the logging camp. These girls worked as cooks and maids in Lelor’s home.”

  “And why are they being moved?”

  “With the recent loss of the miners, we are recruiting new ones. This man is strong and has proven himself a good worker. The woman has pleaded to attend him at the miners’ camp and to bring their daughters along, but we already have a woman and her daughter there who do an adequate job at cleaning and providing meals. Lelor, however, would like to use this opportunity to his advantage. He heard about a redhead coming available, a cattle camp child who has survived the rigors well, so he is willing to give up the two girls for the right to acquire the redhead.”

  “How old are the girls?” Magnar asked.

  Krelin touched the smaller one with a wing. “The younger is eight, and the older is thirteen.”

  “If all are in agreement,” Magnar said, “then let the man be taken to the mining camp and allow Lelor to acquire the redhead, but bring her to me for examination first. We want no more Starlighters to arise.”

  “And where should these females go?”

  Magnar scanned the
other dragons. “Are there any petitions for such as these?”

  A dragon on the left of the line spoke up. “The breeders are hoping to continue their experiments on younger girls, so the older of the two will be welcome there. Her frame is strong, and she appears to be well into adolescence. The younger one can join the new mine laborers.”

  “And the mother?” Magnar asked. “Is she still fit for breeding?”

  Krelin’s ears rotated toward her. “She is too old, but she can be trained as a midwife. The oldest midwife is ill and close to death.”

  “Very well. Let it be so.”

  “One moment.” The dragon in the middle raised a wing, a strange expression on his face that resembled a grin. “Shall I assume Arxad’s role?”

  A ripple of rumbling laughter spread across the dragons.

  “Do you have a point of order?” Magnar asked.

  “I do.” The middle dragon glanced at the others, his grin still apparent. “You need to obtain permission from the head of the family. Is that not why we explain these assignments in their language in the first place?”

  Magnar’s brow lifted. “Oh, yes. My favorite way to waste time, especially in light of the crises at the mines. But we cannot leave this step incomplete. Arxad would not be pleased.”

  Another wave of laughter passed through the dragon audience, this one loud enough to echo in the chamber.

  Adrian glanced at Arxad. His ears drooped, and his wings sagged. Rather than angry, he seemed sad, disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken.

  Magnar extended his neck and drew his head close to the man. “You have been transferred to the mines. Do you understand?”

  With his eyes still wide, the man nodded blankly.

  “Do we have your permission to move your wife to the breeding rooms where she will care for pregnant women and deliver their babies?”

  Again, the man nodded.

  With a hint of a smile, Magnar looked at the other dragons briefly before continuing. “We will move your older daughter to the breeding rooms where she will be impregnated by a man of our choosing. Do we have your permission to send her there?”

  The man hesitated. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his jaw trembled.

  “Is he sufficiently medicated?” Magnar asked Krelin.

  “A double dose, my king, but a little persuasion might help.”

  As Magnar refocused on the man, his toothy smile widened. “The breeders will take good care of your daughter. Such a beautiful girl will be a sacred vessel, cherished throughout her time there, and the children she bears will be your honored legacy. Your love for her cries out for this position, and a father would never refuse her the opportunity. Am I correct?”

  Adrian clenched a fist. This was absurd! This poor man couldn’t think straight. His fuzzy mind was being cruelly manipulated!

  Finally, with a boyish smile, the man nodded.

  “And your other daughter will go to the mines.”

  Again, he nodded.

  Magnar turned to the dragon in the middle. “Thank you, Arxad’s surrogate. I hope you enjoyed that display of comedy.”

  While laughter again flowed from the audience, Magnar waved a wing at Krelin. “Take them away.”

  With rage burning within, Adrian turned to Arxad. A tear shimmered in his eye, and his expression stayed morose. Was there anything he could do to stop this madness?

  The dragons, except for Magnar and Krelin, shuffled toward the entryway. When they had sufficiently spread apart, they extended their wings, jumped into the air, and flew through the opening. Krelin herded the slaves toward the same exit, while Magnar stayed put, his ears straight up and rotating in half turns.

  Arxad stepped farther into the shadows, pulling Cassabrie with him, still coiled in his wing. Adrian followed. Magnar glanced their way, sniffing. After a few seconds, he, too, took to the air and left the room.

  Arxad let out a long breath and unwrapped Cassabrie. Her body had faded to a bare shimmer, and her face gave no indication of her mood.

  “Come,” Arxad said. “We have another errand before we can return to the Zodiac. If Magnar has received my request for a trial, he will be there soon.”

  Adrian pointed at the egg. “Is that the errand?”

  “It is. When I take it to its nest, I will have to carry you by claw, for the egg’s mistress would be appalled otherwise.” The dragon’s gaze probed deeply, as if searching for something that lay beyond the issue of transport.

  Offering a nod, Adrian turned away. Arxad wanted some kind of response to what they had witnessed. This strange dragon, although ready to put him on trial for his life, had brought him here to learn something profound. And this family of slaves and their trials certainly carried a jolt. They were herded like cattle and separated into labors of muscle, sweat, and reproduction. The poor father was cajoled into giving his daughter away to suffer humiliation in a degrading manner. Will that father see his daughter’s tears the first time she is forced to copulate with a man she might not even know? Will her father be there to comfort her when she pushes out a baby, though she is not much more than a baby herself?

  Yet, he nodded in agreement. Drugged and pliable, he gave away a precious treasure in exchange for … for nothing, for an empty promise, for a lie.

  “It is time to go,” Arxad said softly.

  Cassabrie laid a hand on Adrian’s chest, and her eyes glowed green again. “Now will you let me come in?”

  The warmth instantly soaked through his shirt and began to penetrate his skin. Her presence drifted closer, already bringing an intoxicating effect—exhilarating, mesmerizing, dizzying.

  Adrian heaved in a breath. No. He couldn’t let her. No matter how good it felt, he had to keep out all influences, at least until his mind cleared.

  Smiling, he gently pushed his hand under hers. “Not yet. I want some time to think about it.”

  As her fingers caressed his knuckles with soothing warmth, her voice stretched out in a songlike cadence. “Adrian, you know how good you feel when I’m inside. Your pain eases, and my passion sends delight coursing throughout your body. Why turn away pleasure and invite pain when there is no need to do so? Let me come into you, and all will be well.”

  “There is a need,” Adrian said, this time stepping away. “I just can’t explain it right now.”

  Her eyes faded to pinpoints of green, and the song in her voice died away. “Very well. I am able to ride on Arxad, so I will see you in the Zodiac soon.”

  Arxad stretched out his wings. “Then mount my back, Cassabrie. We must go.”

  As the lithe, glowing phantom climbed the scales, the image of the father pulsed in Adrian’s mind—confusion, perplexity, a boat without an anchor. The dragon twisted this man’s love into blind acceptance, to the point that his actions allowed the worst kind of cruelty. It was almost as if love had transformed into hatred, and he had no idea that he had poured out his daughter’s soul.

  Arxad lifted into the air, catching the egg bundle in one claw and Adrian’s shirt in the other. As they shot upward, the material rubbed against Adrian’s wounds. It hurt … a lot. But somehow the pain was comforting. Free from Cassabrie’s anesthesia, every sense seemed to come alive—spiritual vision, duty, love for the Lost Ones, danger—and pain came with the package.

  As Arxad flew through dark corridors, lit only by an occasional lantern on the side walls, Adrian heaved a sigh. He had to hang on to this clarity, this new sense of purpose. Maybe he could survive. Maybe he could save the Lost Ones. And Marcelle. Yes, he had to help Marcelle. She would never give up.

  Still, shouldn’t he also learn to overcome the effect of Cassabrie’s presence? He had the strength of purpose, the will power, to suppress her charms. It seemed that pushing her away conceded defeat, a silent confession that he lacked the inner constitution to withstand a mesmerizing influence. Obviously, she never intentionally hypnotized him. Her gift came along with her presence, so if he had any hope of being with her forever, he needed
to learn to compensate and stay in his right mind no matter what.

  Arxad entered a brightly lit oval-shaped chamber. From the center of the room, a woman dressed in black hurried toward them. As Arxad made a quick orbit around the room, beating his wings to decelerate enough to set down his load, the woman turned with him, her stare fixed and her hands wringing.

  Arxad deposited Adrian on the floor tiles in an upright position, then set the bundle down gently before running to a stop. The woman ran to the bundle, scooped it into her arms, threw back the sheet, and began kissing the shell of a black egg. “Oh, dear prince! You have returned! I will never let you out of my sight again!”

  She turned to Adrian and stared at him. Tall and slender, she wore a form-fitting black sheet tied at the shoulder. With a strong, yet silky voice, she said, “Who is this stranger?”

  Arxad rose up high on his haunches, apparently trying to conceal Cassabrie’s presence. As she did while in Magnar’s company, Cassabrie began to shimmer, though not as brightly as before.

  “Zena,” Arxad said. “This man is a prisoner who will soon stand trial. I had to bring him along or else be delayed further in delivering our prince to you.”

  After setting the egg down gently, Zena crossed the few steps that separated them and stood nearly toe-to-toe with Adrian. She stared. Blue paint smeared her lids and dripped to her cheeks, mixing with dark pink blush. Her black eyes housed oval pupils of a slightly darker shade of black. They wandered, as if unable to focus, making her appear to be blind. “I sense something familiar. He is very much like the young man who rescued the Starlighter. What was his name?”

  “Jason,” Arxad said.

  Adrian froze, unable to breathe. Jason was here? What had happened? He stared at Arxad, hoping he would reveal more information.

  As if reading Adrian’s mind, Arxad continued. “That young man is now far from the dragon realm, as is the new Starlighter. After I retrieved the prince from their clutches, I sent them into exile, as Magnar ordered, so you need not be concerned about them doing us any further harm.”