by Kara Jaynes
The underground levels have been redesigned to replicate medieval human dungeons. The halls are made of concrete; the cell doors are iron-studded wood.
The cells look no better on the inside. The interior is concrete and stone as well. Each prisoner is shackled to the wall with a long chain.
“These are all dream vagrants?” I ask.
Gawynn inclines his head, his expression aloof and distant. “Yes. They were only brought in if there was no doubt that they were victims of the star-blood.”
I observe a woman, huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around her thin legs. Her long, dark blonde hair reminds me of Stella, and I resist the urge to break down the door and scoop her up, taking her to safety. This woman is not Stella. She is a dream vagrant, the drug rendering her into something less than human.
But we will change that.
“What measures have been taken to cure them?” I ask. I no longer worry about their comfort and care. Each prisoner has a pallet to sleep on, and I can feel magic radiating up through the floors with a gentle heat, despite the chill in the air.
“We’ve tried different methods on different groups,” Gawynn replies. We continue down the different halls. “On some, we’ve simply denied them the drug, hoping the addiction will withdraw after time. That has not worked.” We pause at a cell. Looking in, I see a young man crouched in the shadows, his blue eyes flashing murder when he sees me. “Star-blood,” he snarls, crawling on all fours, heedless of the chain that will only allow him to cover half the room. “You think you’re so strong, so tough. Come into this cell, and I’ll show you your weakness.”
I step back out of his line of vision, and the man shrieks, his chain rattling as he lunges forward. “I’m going to kill you!” he screams. “I will kill you all!”
Gawynn peers inside the cell for a moment, and looks almost pensive. “That one shows more life than half of them combined,” he says, his voice bland. “Curious. He’s stronger than the others. Most of them act like zombies in the old human movies I’ve seen, but this one has managed to almost keep his wits about him.”
“Which group is he in?” I ask.
“The one without doses.”
That explains his anger and frustration. “How long has he been here?”
“Not long. Maybe a week. Some of the dream vagrants have been here a good deal longer, ever since you gave us the order to track them down and bring them here. We will continue to search for them, but dream vagrants are like rats; they have an uncanny ability to hide, only coming out to make a nuisance of themselves when we elves aren’t around.”
“How are the vagrants faring when you give them small doses? I presume that is to help them with the withdrawal process.”
Gawynn shakes his head. “Even worse. It seems any they get, even if it’s just a pinch, pulls them even further under the drug’s influence. We’ve had to stop.”
“Destroy the star-blood, then.”
Gawynn tilts his head, face impassive as he studies me. “It’s useful for elves, my—
“Destroy it,” I interject. “The herb has no place on this Earth.”
No reaction, not even a grimace or the arch of a brow. Gawynn bows his head. “As you wish, my prince.”
I leave the dungeon shortly after, my mind trying to sort through the dilemma of the star drug. How do I help these people recover? Is there any hope for them, or will they have to live out the rest of their lives in confinement?
I don’t know, and I hope Gawynn will discover how to help these wretched beings.
19
Stella
A knock on the door wakes me. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, I sit up. “Come in,” I yawn.
The door opens, and Aleere staggers in holding an enormous vase overflowing with flowers.
I stare at the monstrosity. “What is that?”
“This bouquet is a gift from Prince Eldaren,” Aleere says. She speaks so rarely that I’m always surprised when she does. The slim elf puts the vase on a table by the door, where it looks very out of place.
I’m not a florist, by any stretch of the imagination, but even I can tell Eldaren went overboard.
“Tell him . . . thank you.”
Aleere sweeps into a curtsey, but I can see she’s trying to hide a smile. To show that much emotion, she must find it absolutely hysterical. “I will bring up breakfast immediately.” She turns to depart and pauses. “There’s a note attached to the flowers, Stella.” She leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Getting out of bed, I walk over to the vase. I can smell the bouquet before I even reach it. These flowers are fresh. It’s cold outside. Liberty is in the heart of winter. I have no idea how the prince could have gotten them to bloom like this. “Magic,” I say aloud, and I’m certain it’s true.
A note is attached to one of the roses with midnight blue twine. I untie it and read the letter.
My dearest Stella,
I have read it is a popular human custom for a man to shower his woman with useless gifts. Please accept these dying flowers as a token of my affection.
-Eldaren
“Real smooth,” I mutter. “Silver-tongue Eldaren.” I grin at the flowers. They are quite pretty, even if they’re technically dead or dying at this point. Trust Eldaren to point that out.
I slip out of my nightgown. My closet has a few dresses and some skirts but for the most part is filled with functional clothing; trousers, blouses, and jackets. A few t-shirts and jeans have been added at my request, but today I feel like wearing something pretty.
Selecting a dress with a false corset, I lace up the ties. It’s a soft beige with an abundance of lace at the hem. It only falls to the knee, though, so I’m able to move without tripping in layers of fabric.
I don’t know what I plan to do, but I know I’m not confined to my rooms any longer, and the knowledge fills me with excitement. I am not free, not really, but it’s definitely a step in the right direction.
I almost walk into Aleere when I exit my room. She’s holding a tray with fruit, bread, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. I take the mug with a grin. “I’m not hungry this morning.” I stride down the hall, burning my tongue on the chocolate when I take a sip. This is the first time I’ve turned down the offer of a proper breakfast. I know I can eat later—and eat well.
My steps slow. When was the last time I’ve felt this way? Comfortable and secure?
Not since my parents died, I realize, and I am not sure what to make of that. I also feel a swirling of guilt. I shouldn’t be comfortable. Not until I can help my brother.
It’s not long before I’m utterly lost. I look around, trying to remember how to reach the front entrance. I know I can’t leave, not yet, but I would like to feel the air on my face.
“Good morning, Stella, mine.”
I look over my shoulder, recognizing Eldaren’s voice before I see his tall frame striding toward me. Even as tall as he is, his footsteps make little sound.
He’s dressed as perfectly as ever, uniform jacket and waistcoat, his trousers tucked into boots. His face is impassive, and he nods his head in polite greeting.
I raise my eyebrows. “No smile?”
Dark brows furrow. “Am I supposed to smile?”
“It’s polite to do so when you’re greeting someone,” I say.
“Ah. Another human custom. Elves do not smile unless they have strong reason to do so.”
“I noticed.”
“Where are you going?” the prince asks.
I smirk. “I’m trying to find the exit, so I can make my escape and plot my revenge.”
Eldaren’s face darkens in a glower. “We discussed this already, Stella.”
Rolling my eyes, I fold my arms and lean against the wall in the narrow hallway. “It’s called sarcasm.”
“I am not familiar with that word,” Eldaren admits. He’s tense, like he expects me to sprout wings and fly away.
“It means I was joking. I’m not leaving.
” I reach out and pat his shoulder. Eldaren’s head swivels to stare at my hand, eyes wide with hope, his breath hitching. “Is that a gesture of affection?”
I grimace and drop my hand, heat rising to my face. “Maybe? So, where would you recommend I go in the fortress? Care to show me around?”
“I am sorry, but I have duties I must attend to.”
“Oh. Well, I was hoping to find the entrance,” I say. I speak hastily, noticing the suspicious gleam in the prince’s eyes. “Not to leave, Eldaren. Just to get some fresh air.”
“There’s a window in your room.”
“That’s not the same,” I protest, but I’m not going to press it. Not yet. “Fine. If you could direct me to the training halls, I would appreciate it.”
“You would like to resume fighting?”
“Not really, but I’m bored.”
Eldaren angles his head, thinking. “I have a few moments before the first meeting of the day starts. I can take you outside. Just for a moment, you understand.”
“Thanks.” I take in his garb again, my face warming further. “Do you dress like that for any particular reason, or just because you look smashing in it?”
“‘Smashing’ does not make any sense in that context,” Eldaren says. He takes my arm and leads me down first one hall and then a second.
I take stock of where I’m going, so I know which route to take when I escape again. If I can get to the entrance without attracting notice . . .
I frown at the floor. Who am I kidding? No one, that’s who. Escaping from this fortress is impossible. I’ve already tried several times and failed. Which means I need to find a way to get Eldaren to take me outside, into the streets of Liberty.
When we finally step outside, the air misty and cold, I stay close to the prince. Every instinct is screaming at me to bolt, to run. But Eldaren is watching me closely, and I know that as fast as I am, the elven prince is faster. I wouldn’t make it more than five steps.
Instead of running, I stand still. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the sea breeze wash over me. We’re some ways from the harbor, but I can still smell the salt beneath the heavy perfume of pollution.
When I open my eyes, I find Eldaren is still watching me, but his expression has softened, and a sad smile tugs at his mouth. “What?” I say.
He shakes his head slightly. “I want to understand you, Stella. So much.”
I bite my lip. Can I trust him? Eldaren hasn’t hurt me. He has kept me here against my will, but aside from that . . .
“What do you think of humans?” I ask.
He considers my question for a moment. “They are flighty and unpredictable.”
“Ugh,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Can’t you say even one nice thing about us?”
“Give me a reason to,” he replies evenly. He tilts his head, regarding me. “You have a remarkable instinct for survival,” he says at last, “for such a weak race. You humans have been hit with disasters of various sorts, and you survive them all.”
I shrug, unsure how to respond. I can't tell if what he said is meant to be taken as a compliment.
Why are they really here? To save the planet? Or to rule it? Or is there something else that I’m missing?
Then I remember. The rumor I'd heard. The question that needs to be asked.
“Do the elves abduct humans?” I say.
Eldaren blinks. “I am not sure I understand the question. Abduct in what way?”
“Any sort of way,” I say. “Some people think that you steal humans away, never to bring them back to earth.”
“We have taken no humans from this planet,” Eldaren says, but he hesitates, and I know he's holding something back.
“Do you keep prisoners?”
“If humans are found breaking the law, yes, we may take them prisoner.” He stares pointedly at me.
I sigh. “Okay. I was worried that you guys; I don't know, conducted experiments on humans or something.”
Eldaren stiffens. “Where did you hear that?” he asks quietly.
“No one in particular,” I say, but suspicion stirs inside of me. “Why? Do you?”
“What we may or may not do is classified information. Now, I have a meeting I must attend to,” Eldaren says smoothly, his face impassive. “Good day, Stella.”
I inhale sharply. “Stars, Eldaren. You do conduct experiments.”
“I am not permitted to answer any questions that pertain to classified information,” he replies firmly. “Come inside.”
I follow him back into the fortress, a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Just like that, I have my answer.
I cannot trust him with knowledge of Quinn.
20
Dream Vagrant
“Please,” I moan, gazing up at my captor. “I must have some star-blood. Please. I’ll do anything.”
My begging falls on deaf ears. The elf gazes down at me, his expression devoid of emotion as he pulls the key from` the lock that keeps me shackled to the wall, holding the long chain.
“Come with me.” His voice is so cold.
My wrists are still bound by the iron chain he holds. I snicker. Do they think I’m a threat? My laugh turns into a sob as I shuffle on my knees toward the elf. “Please. I need star-blood. I need it. I need—”
“Silence.” The elf jerks on the chain and I grunt as my nose hits the stone floor, my arms stretched above my head. “Your abuse of that plant is what has you here in the first place.”
I tremble as a wave of despair washes over me. “I must have it, and I'm willing to work for it.” I try to keep my voice calm. Maybe he will listen to reason. He has to. “What do you want? Money? Women? Or maybe you prefer—”
The elf yanks on the chain again. I cry out as the iron cuffs bite into my wrists. I am tired and hungry. But I barely notice those feelings, inconsequential to the overwhelming desire for star-blood. I crave it like I’ve never craved anything. I need to have it, or I will die.
“Please help me,” I whisper, tears of anger and despair building on my lashes. “I need you to help me.”
The elf is silent. I lift my head, and hope buds in my heart at the flicker of pity I see in his eyes. “Star-blood?” I ask, hope almost choking me.
The elf smiles crookedly. “Come with me. I will help you, and many of the other poor humans in this compound.” He looks at shackles. “Will you disobey me if I unchain you?”
“No, sir.” I scramble to my feet and allow him to free me. At his command, I eagerly follow him out of my cell, glancing over my shoulder at it one last time. I still can’t remember how I got here.
I frown as I follow the elf down a long, stone hall. What do I remember?
The star-blood. I remember that, and its sweet ability to numb and soothe, taking me away from reality. No. Giving me a new reality. Burning purpose. I must get more.
The elf said he’ll help me, so I will follow him. I see more elves stepping out of cold stone cells, leading other people. People like me, with pinched, starved faces, their eyes empty.
They need the star-blood, too. My face contorts in a snarl. The star-blood is mine. I will not share.
I am led through several other halls and to a flight of stairs, taking me up, up. I manage the first two flights, but my legs give out on the third. I am too weak. I need star-blood.
The elf tsks and throws me over his shoulder. “You need to eat,” he says. “I am surprised some of you dream vagrants are still alive.”
I try to wrap my brain around what he just said. When had I last eaten? I can’t remember. My vision blurs, and I close my eyes. This isn’t real. I must be dreaming.
The tricky thing about dreams is they feel as real as the waking world. Or is it the opposite? Maybe reality feels as real as dreams.
The rolling rhythm of the elf’s footsteps stops. Blinking, I open my eyes to see that we’re in a massive room. I squinch my eyes to narrow slits, taking in the scenery before me.
&nbs
p; There’s a giant cage in the center of the room, the bars made of iron.
“You’re locking me up, again?” I ask. “Why put me in a new cage? The old kept me just as well.”
“This one is very temporary, stars willing,” the elf replies. He opens the cage door and dumps me inside. “Wait here.”
I laugh and laugh, my sides shaking until they ache. Tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m dying,” I gasp. “Let me free, elf. Please. I’ll find some star-blood on my own.”
The elf crouches down, observing me through the bars. His long brown hair hangs on either side of his face. “If everything goes well, you won’t need drugs anymore. You’ll be a free man again.”
I sneer at him. “Maybe I don’t want to be free.”
“That isn’t your choice to make. Not anymore.” The elf stands and strides away, and it’s now that I see other elves are coming into the room, leading other humans.
Dream vagrants. I can remember the name now. That is what I’m called. It’s who I am. It’s who I want to be.
The other humans shuffle into the cage. Some enter willingly, a few fight tooth and nail. One woman is shrieking, clawing at her elven captor for all she is worth.
Her efforts do little good. She is unceremoniously tossed into the cage. She curls into a fetal position, her body shaking with sobs. I can’t see her face. Long, matted, dark blonde hair covers it.
The cage door is locked. We’re all inside, packed together like sardines in a can. Doing a quick headcount, I think we’re around fifty strong, for all the good it does us. I watch the elves leave, then peer up toward the ceiling.
There are several alcoves set in the walls, and an elf stands in each one. They are dressed in outlandish garb: long, pale robes. The one in the nearest alcove is female. Our gazes meet. Her face is smooth, masking all emotion.
I snarl soundlessly, gripping the bars. Being an elf, she probably has no emotion.
