The Yanti

by Christopher Pike

  But his voice had not changed. His tone was deep and thunderous, and yet somehow eloquent. She heard the anger in his words, though, there was no mistaking that.

  “Your stunt was clever, Geea, and cruel. You have killed many an old friend of Kashar’s. But it has all been in vain, for Kashar will not allow you to leave here alive.”

  Ali knew that dragons seldom spoke in first person.

  She floated a hundred yards in front of him, in midair, her green field close to maximum strength. From past experience, she knew his flame could come quickly, and without warning. She responded in a reasonable tone.

  “I know your great powers, you know mine. Is it necessary for us to fight? When we were once such close allies?”

  Kashar tried to grasp her gaze with his smoldering red eyes, for the latter were famous for their hypnotic effect. He could not put a high fairy like her under a complete spell, but he could slow her reflexes, and that might be all he would need to kill her. For that reason, as they spoke, she was careful to keep her gaze slightly to the right or left of his massive snout. The fire in his nostrils was more important anyway. It would be his fire she would eventually have to face.

  Unless he could be reasoned with.

  He sighed at her question, as if it both saddened and angered him.

  “Kashar and his people decided upon an alliance with the Shaktra long ago. Geea knows the reason why, and Geea knows Kashar won’t break that alliance. This, we have already talked about at length.”

  “Yet you used to be allied with me, with all the fairies, and you broke that treaty. Do you know why? I know, now that I’ve been born as a human, and met your son, Drash.”

  Kashar snorted. “That koul! Such a coward has no say in anything!”

  A koul was a teenage dragon who had yet to pass the tests that changed him into a full dragon. The test of self-sacrifice. The test of water. And the test of flight itself. When it came to the latter, to get his wings, Drash had to have the courage to leap off a mountain without wings, and have faith that they would be bestowed on him before he crash-landed. To help give him courage, Ali had taken the leap with Drash.

  Yet Drash admitted that when he had tried the first test, in his father’s presence, he had failed it. Therefore, his father was ashamed of his son, although the reverse was also true. Drash despised the Shaktra, and what it was doing to the green world. Ali recalled what Drash had told her atop the kloudar, after the attack by the Shaktra.

  “Did you recognize the one you fought?”

  “My uncle, Chashar. He did not hesitate to strike me.”

  “Did you see the Shaktra on his back?”

  “There was something there. Drash did not get a clear look.”

  Ali nodded in the direction of the cavern she had just destroyed.

  “Did we bury Chashar back there?” she asked.

  Kashar was unmoved. “No. Brother follows the army.”

  “But he must have told you, at some point, that he saw Drash flying near the highest kloudar. The two fought, and Drash survived the battle, and lives to this day.”

  Kashar growled. “My brother was not sure who it was.”

  “An uncle would not mistake a nephew—especially a nephew who had passed his three tests so rapidly, and so bravely . . .”

  Kashar interrupted; his nostrils flamed. “Why do you go on about Drash?”

  “Because you act as if you speak for all the dragons. Yet your own son—a full dragon in his own right—is not in favor of an alliance with the Shaktra!”

  Kashar’s anger increased. He sat up straighter, his head coming equal with her floating body. “Drash has no idea why we even allied with the Shaktra!”

  Ali sneered. “Of course he does! All the high fairies do. It’s because the Shaktra promised you a lie. Yes, a lie, and the lie is so obvious, I can see it just by looking at you. Go to the mountains, find a clear lake, and look at your own reflection and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “Your words mean nothing, Geea. Kashar cannot be fooled.”

  “Listen to me!” she snapped, her turn to interrupt. “The Shaktra promised you that it would allow the dragons to remain on the kloudar even as they passed into space, beyond the moon, Anglar, and that you would be allowed to enjoy the blue light of the ice maidens. True or false?”

  “True! And the Shaktra has delivered on its promise!”

  “Lies! Just before I entered the green world, I bathed in the blue light of the ice maidens, and got to be with the angels, and it lifted my soul, and filled me with wonder and awe. Most of all, it expanded my heart with love. Yes, love. That’s what the blue light is made of. That’s the light the ice maidens live in forever. Immortality is their birthright. By growing through countless experiences in the yellow and green worlds, they have matured to the point where it is natural for them to live in the blue light. But I know the Shaktra came to the dragons and promised you a shortcut. That you did not have to go through so much suffering and struggle to reach that light. That you could have it all now.”

  “Kashar has it now! Whenever Kashar wishes it!”

  “I don’t know what drug the Shaktra’s feeding you but it’s not the blue light. Just look at yourself! Your body has deteriorated horribly. The light in your eyes has dulled. Worse, your heart has closed.”

  “Geea . . .”

  “You’ll listen to what I have to say! The old Kashar would never have turned against his fellow elementals. Kashar, we used to say, was the great protector of us all. But now what do you and your dragons do with your flame? You melt off portions of the kloudar so that they fall on fairies and elves and dwarves! You kill all the elementals, and they hate you for it. And why do you do it? Because of some concoction or device the Shaktra has invented that makes you think you ride the kloudar out into space, and live in the glory of the blue light beyond Anglar!”

  To Ali’s dismay, the old dragon chuckled.

  “Geea does not know that I’ve journeyed far beyond Anglar!”

  “Where’s the proof of the love you’ve found there?”

  “Kashar did not go there for love. Kashar went for power.”

  Ali snickered. “Power? You look like a sick and drooling troll, not like a dragon king. The Shaktra’s granted you no special power!”

  Kashar suddenly beat his wings, and came off his seat beside the harbor. He moved to the center of the subterranean cavern that lay north of Uleestar, effectively blocking her path of escape. The red flame of his nostrils was now thirty feet long, six in diameter, and his triangular eyes were no longer dull but ablaze. Perhaps it had been a mistake to argue with him. Kashar spoke in a furious tone.

  “You dare mock me? Already Kashar would have turned you to ash. But the Shaktra spoke concerning Geea, and Kashar agreed to listen one last time. If Geea will turn over the Yanti to Kashar, show Kashar how to use it, then Geea will be allowed to go on her way.”

  “Geea has your promise?”

  “Kashar has given his word.”

  “Oh, but Kashar gave his word before. Don’t you remember? Long ago you swore an oath of friendship to all the fairies. Dragons would protect us in times of need, and we would help you when you needed help. What of that word, Kashar? Have you forgotten it?”

  He continued to beat his wings, only faster, and the wind from them was indeed powerful. She found herself being pushed backward, toward the ruin she had brought down upon the cavern. She had to make a move soon. Unfortunately, she had little room to maneuver in. Should she make a dash toward the rear of the harbor? Try to escape to the surface and the Crystal Palace? She had a feeling the Shaktra had sent dragons there as well. Her only hope of escape probably lay farther north, in the direction of Lake Mira.

  The dragon’s anger came out as hot as his flame.

  “Give Kashar the Yanti now!” he demanded.

  Ali knew if she did give it to him, he would keep it for himself. He recognized the truth of her accusations. Whatever the Shaktra was feeding him, it was n
ot what Kashar had hoped for. He was sick. He wanted the Yanti to heal himself. But there was no point in offering to help him. He was too old and stubborn.

  “You want the Yanti, you take it!” Even as she swore, she accelerated along the ceiling of the cavern, away from the dragon, and tried to fly past him. However, he was not a king for nothing. He was shrewd, he anticipated the move, and let loose a blast against her and the wall of the cave that her field barely repelled.

  The tight surroundings did not favor her. Adding strength to her field, she pulled away from the stream of burning plasma, and then, dropping low, near the water level and Kashar’s legs, she blew out a harsh breath and smashed her palms together, using her most potent voom ever.

  The sonic wave hit his webbed feet hard. He let out a cry of pain, but he blasted her again, and she was forced to dive beneath the water, the last thing she wanted to do. For underwater she could not fly, nor use voom; and the water weakened her magnetic field as well.

  Yet, as the water above her suddenly turned red, and exploded in a shower of steam, she saw her last move had probably saved her life. But it was to be a brief respite. She could not fly around a dragon and continue to trade punches. Not with a dragon as powerful as Kashar. His fire was too hot. Her field would inevitably fail as her strength gave out.

  Through the steam, Ali saw him raise a thundering foot.

  He was trying to crush her!

  Bursting to the surface, through a cloud of steam, Ali did a midair flip that took her within a few feet of Kashar. But with the dragon distracted—he was still trying to find her under the water and squash her like a bug—she was able to spread both her palms in front of his eyes and let her full power run down her arms. Fire shot from her palms. She scored a direct hit in his right pupil. The red triangle turned an ugly black, and she knew, for a time at least, that he was half-blind.

  Yet even had Kashar been totally blind, he now knew where she was. Howling in pain, he blasted the air directly in front of him. To escape, Ali was forced to take the most dangerous route of all.

  She flew at him—at his burning nostrils, ducking at the last instant beneath his chin. His flame missed her by inches. It caught more of her hair, though, and she heard it crackling. The smoke smothered her, along with the stench of the gases that came off his fire. Practically hugging his hideous hide, she watched him sniff the air, searching for her.

  Obviously his eye hurt. Yet it was not enough just to hurt him.

  She had to kill him, and she did not have the power.

  Or did she?

  Since Ali had spoken to Sheri, she had thought long and hard about why her sister wanted the Yanti so badly. The woman had said it was to be used to shoot down nuclear missiles that humans might use against the elemental army, and Ali had sensed truth in the words. At the same time, Sheri had made elusive references to something called the violet ray. In her anger, the woman had spouted many strange phrases.

  “It’s a powerful tool. Besides, it should have been mine. You must recall—before you brainwashed him with your constant whining—that Father was going to give it to me. You know as well as I do that it’s wasted in your hands. You don’t even know how to use it as a weapon . . . Even if you somehow discovered how to reverse the Yanti and invoke the violet ray—which you can’t do, not without my help—it’ll make no difference . . . Admit it, you’ll never unleash the violet ray and risk killing millions . . .”

  Certainly, Ali had no wish to kill millions.

  Right now she would be happy just to kill one dragon.

  But how to reverse the Yanti and invoke the violet ray?

  Ali felt that was the key word—reverse. When she had first found the Yanti, she had instinctively repeated the secret name Nemi had given her, Alosha, while envisioning what she wanted to happen. In time—from Nira of all people—she learned a deeper level of control of the Yanti. While using the secret name, if she touched the talisman first to her forehead, to her heart, and then to the top of her head, she could invoke greater power. For example, she needed the formula Nira had taught her to open and close the seven doors.

  Taking Sheri’s words as a clue, Ali wondered if she reversed everything when it came to using the Yanti, would she be able to invoke the so-called violet ray? Before she had left Earth, she had wanted to experiment with the idea, but she had been hesitant to unleash something she couldn’t control. But now she was out of options. Kashar was going to kill her. Her field could only take one more concentrated blast.

  Kashar noticed she was hanging onto his throat, and snapped at her with his teeth. Darting into the air in front of him, she floated a mere ten feet from the tip of his nose. He stared at her with his one good eye, gloating.

  “So ends the great and glorious Geea!” he said.

  Kashar sucked in a mighty breath. Swiftly, Ali grabbed the Yanti from beneath her shirt and went through Nira’s moves in the reverse order—top of the head, heart, forehead—all the while chanting Alosha three times, backward: “Ah-sola, Ah-sola, Ah-sola . . .”

  Kashar’s fire hit her with resounding fury, bent her field to the max. Her clothes began to smoke, as she was pushed backward like a fly swatted by an angry housewife. Her world spun, the water below steamed, and the fire . . . Oh God, the dragon’s flames engulfed her.

  Yet she was able to take it all. For her field held, and she lived, and Kashar was going to have to try again. But even as he sucked in another breath, to finish her off, the Yanti began to glow with a soft violet light.

  The fact caused them both to pause. She stopped tumbling, he stopped huffing and puffing, and they both . . . watched. The violet light was fascinating—one could even say it was enchanting. Neither of them could stop staring at it. Ali would have gone so far as to say it charmed her. Certainly it didn’t feel dangerous, or hot . . . even as it switched from a mild glow to a rather bright one.

  Yet she wanted it to turn hot. Into a flame.

  She wanted it to burn, to kill.

  No sooner did she think those words, when it grew hot. So hot it made Kashar’s worst flame feel like a garden hose. And in that instant, Ali knew Sheri had tricked her. She had fed her the clue on purpose, so that her darling sister—in a critical moment such as this—would try to invoke the violet ray. The horror of Ali’s blunder swept over her with the same force as the mysterious ray.

  The light went beyond heat and smoke and fire.

  The violet ray was pain itself. Blinding pain.

  And she could not let go of it. The violet ray would not let her.

  Ali shut her eyes as it swelled in power and still the ray pierced her skin and let her see—no, it forced her to see—her clothes as they caught fire, and her skin as it began to redden, and her long red hair as it was transformed into a burning halo. She did not just catch fire—it was as if every cell in her body changed into its own tormented supernova. She felt as if she were melting, and in the midst of her agony, she heard Sheri’s curse inside her head . . .

  “You know nothing!”

  Yet, then, right then, finally, Ali knew what her sister meant.

  This was beyond pain. This transcended all suffering. This was hell.

  Something, a sound that did not belong to her, made her open her eyes. Kashar stared at the Yanti with an expression of lust. Again, he demanded . . .

  “Give it to me!”

  Maybe it was his desire for it, Ali did not know, but suddenly she was able to get rid of it. She threw it right at him, and the dragon, with unmistakable glee, reached for it with an open mouth, his many sharp teeth visible in the violet radiance. Then the Yanti vanished, for a few seconds, as he swallowed it, and the look of satisfaction on his face was as disgusting as the swelling scars on the entire front half of her body. Her skin was charcoal. Her old ally laughed at her.

  “Fool Geea! A fairy should never play with a dragon’s fire!”

  Then he stopped laughing, and glanced down at his scaly throat and armored belly. He seemed concerned,
for the violet light continued to grow in intensity. For even though it was buried inside him, and a dragon was made up of thousands of tons of muscle and bone, the violet ray began to shine through him. He began to glow from the inside out, and the heat of the Yanti shocked him as well.

  Because the violet ray was not really made of fire.

  It was composed of something else.

  Something neither fairy nor dragon had experienced before.

  Kashar caught fire. It started on the inside, but it spread quickly to his exterior. There was nothing to be done. He tried drowning himself in what was left of Tiena, but the violet ray shone through the waters, and then they themselves were changed into jets of steam. The dragon started to thrash in agony.

  Ali had to duck as his barbed tail struck the wall, and cast down more stone. If she could have helped him, she would have, because even though he was trying to kill her, she knew his pain; and no one deserved that, whether they be friend or foe. But the truth was, she could not help herself, much less him.

  As he disappeared beneath the river surface, in a globe of light so bright she had to put her arms over her eyes to keep from going blind, she heard him weeping, the sound so sorrowful it chilled her blood even as the rest of her burned. Fountains of steam continued to flood the cavern, like prehistoric geysers that had long ago consumed the dinosaurs. The glare would not permit her to see, but she knew her foe was dead, and that she was close to following him into the same infernal grave.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Drash brought Ra the news of Ali, while he was resting in the fairy stronghold, high in the Youli Mountains. Ra had done little more than sleep since arriving at the secret hideaway, for, unknown to Ali, he had barely slept since he had met her in his uncle’s cave on Mt. Kilimanjaro.

  During their first night together in the green world, not long after they had met Drash, Ra had stayed awake most of the night to guard the koul’s temporary home—a cave that overlooked Lestre. Ra had been awake, and had followed Ali, even when she had gone to watch Drash’s first step in his transformation into a dragon.