by Bryan Davis
Stretching out his wings fully as he passed under the opening’s arch, Arxad sailed inside, and the air suddenly turned warm. He landed in a brisk trot on a wooden floor, apparently designed for such draconic arrivals. Scratches marred the otherwise smooth surface, likely a soft wood designed to allow claws to dig in.
When he came to a stop, he spoke brusquely. “Get down.” His words echoed in the cavernous hall.
Marcelle released the spine and slid down the dragon’s scales, bending her knees to absorb the impact. She staggered for a moment as her numb feet responded to the weight, but she soon righted herself. She checked the two swords and the pack. Everything was in place.
Tilting her head upward, she surveyed the massive chamber. Ivory beams curved across a domed ceiling, leaving space between them for leaden glass embedded with colorful designs that made up an intricate work of art. Could it be a display of planets revolving around a central sun?
A giant fresco covered the wall opposite the entryway, composing an illustration of an empty throne—gold and bejeweled with red, blue, and purple gems. Even in the absence of direct sunlight, or any apparent source of light at all, the gems sparkled.
“Wait here,” Arxad said. “I must inform the master of this house of your arrival. His servants will see to your comfort.”
With a beat of his wings, he flew into an expansive corridor to the left, staying close to the floor, though there was plenty of room between him and the high ceiling. Again, light shone from somewhere, making his progress clear as he passed more illustrations on either side of the hallway.
A similar corridor lay to her right, darker and apparently just as large. Someone obviously designed this castle for dragons—plenty of room for wings and long necks.
She rubbed her hands together, trying to generate heat. Although the air was much warmer, her fingers had not yet recovered.
Walking while rubbing, she edged closer to the arched entry. With no doors to close, how did the room stay so warm? Wouldn’t the breeze sweep in the wintry chill?
She stood under the arch and reached a hand across the boundary. Cold washed over her skin and ran up her sleeve, as if her arm acted as a conduit for the frigid air. As a stronger draft blew in, she jerked back, shutting off the flow.
How strange! An invisible barrier to the wind, yet easily penetrated. What other wonders might she find in this fascinating place?
“I assume you are Marcelle.”
Marcelle stiffened. Who had spoken? A girl? Yet, no one was around. She turned toward the source but found only empty floor space.
“Hello?” Marcelle called. “Who said my name?”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. I have to be in motion.” Like a shimmer on a pond, light rippled at the center of the wood floor, drifting in a tight circle. Although indistinct, the waves of light, soft and yellow, filled out a woman’s shape. Her height and gentle curves made her look young, perhaps a teenager. “Can you see me now?” she asked.
Marcelle squinted. “I see a light in the form of a girl, but your face isn’t clear.”
The girl stopped. The ripples faded, making her disappear. “If I were to run or dance, you would see my face more clearly, but for now, maybe you will be able to recognize me by my voice.”
As she spoke, a flow of sparkling light emanated from where her mouth should have been. The sparks vanished almost immediately, but their split-second presence gave away her location.
“What is your name?” Marcelle asked.
“Deference.”
“Deference? I have never heard that name before.”
The girl’s voice inflected as a question. “You do not know what deference is?”
“I know the word, but I have never heard it used as a girl’s name.”
“I assumed it was a girl’s name, because none of the boys wanted it. But if you think it’s too masculine, maybe I should—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I haven’t heard it used as anyone’s name, neither male nor female.”
“Oh.” Deference stayed quiet for a moment. “Peaceable was my second choice. Do you like that? I will change it if it pleases you.”
Marcelle sighed. “Deference is fine. I think it suits you perfectly. I hope you will pardon my ignorance of names here. I am from a faraway land.”
“Yes, I know.” The ripples of light returned, dipping up and down as if Deference had curtsied before vanishing again. “I am here to welcome you.”
“Thank you.” Marcelle offered a slight bow. Learning to curtsy wasn’t part of her warrior training. “Where I come from, I am called a human. What might your species be called?”
“Oh, I am also human. I have merely lost my body.”
Marcelle cocked her head. Deference had said this as if it were the most normal occurrence in the world. I lost my body was somehow the same as I misplaced my hairbrush. But if she really was human, might she be a slave here? Were the servants in this castle the humans they had come to rescue? This one didn’t seem bothered at all by her servitude.
“So,” Marcelle said, hoping the question in her mind wasn’t too ridiculous, “do you know where you were when you misplaced your body?”
Deference laughed. “That’s very funny. Misplaced my own body! Imagine that!”
As warmth flooded her cheeks, Marcelle decided not to explain her belief that lost and misplaced were practically synonyms. Being a visitor on this world meant that every step might introduce a new reality she couldn’t possibly understand. She would have to learn slowly, be patient.
“I trust that you are warm enough now,” Deference said. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Thank you for your kindness, but I am warm and not in need of food.” For a brief moment, Marcelle wished she had asked for something, just to see how this being of light would serve it, but it was too late. “May I see more of this castle?”
“I wish I could show you everything, but I can’t.” Her voice stayed as cheery as ever. “Arxad said that you must wait here until he returns.”
Marcelle nodded. “That’s fine. I understand.”
“You look very tired.” Deference reappeared, walking into the darker corridor. As soon as she entered, the room brightened, as if illuminated by her presence. She set her hands behind a chair and pushed it into the vestibule, though her body never really touched the chair at all. Her hands seemed to hover behind the chair’s back, maybe an inch or so of light waves separating it from her touch.
“There,” she said, stopping the chair near Marcelle and disappearing once again. “We have only a few chairs for humans, and we keep them close to the entryway.”
Marcelle pulled the bag from her back and sat down. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” The chair’s wooden seat was hard, not comfortable at all, but at least her legs would get a rest.
“If you have no need of anything else,” Deference said, “I should be going. My king is waiting.”
“Your king? Who is he? Arxad?”
“Arxad?” Her merry laugh sent a flurry of sparks into the air. “You really are a very funny person.”
Marcelle laughed with her. Another joke. Who could have guessed that coming to this world would transform her into a comedienne? “I do have another question. If I am to be traveling soon, I need to understand your days and nights. Will it be dark soon?”
“Dark? It never gets dark here. We are on top of the world, always pointing toward the sun.”
“I see,” Marcelle said, tapping her chin. “An axis tilt. Major Four has no such tilt, but our astronomers have located other planets that do.”
“Major Four?”
“Yes, that’s the name of my planet.”
“Oh, I see. Ours is called Starlight.”
Marcelle’s throat caught. “What did you say?”
“Starlight. That’s our planet.” Deference’s tone shifted to one of concern. “Are you well? Your face has turned pale.”
Marcelle laid a hand on her forehead. “Just a little diz
zy. I’ll be all right.”
“Well, I hope I have answered your question.”
“You have. Thank you.”
Deference walked into the brighter corridor, waving her rippling arm. “Farewell, Marcelle.” She laughed again. “That rhymes. Wonderful!”
“Farewell … Deference.” Marcelle followed the girl’s progress down the hall. Soon, she disappeared, as if swallowed by the light.
“Starlight,” Marcelle whispered. A song from her childhood mentioned that name. Could it be a coincidence?
She set her bag on the floor, leaned back in the chair, and let out a long breath. Her legs ached, but her brain ached even more. What had she gotten herself into? Of course traveling to an alien planet was bound to bring surprises, but these mind-benders had caught her off guard. Even asking for explanations seemed a waste of time.
She looked at the bag. Inside lay the video tube that might lead to her mother’s murderer, but it would surely drain her soul. Just imagining lifting it to her eye and turning it on brought a wave of nausea. It seemed impossible.
She closed her eyes. Just rest. It would all make sense soon, and her body needed to be ready for the next task. No use missing the opportunity to let her limbs regain a bit of energy.
Soon, a dream entered her mind, a replay of her recent battle with Darien, but this time when she stripped off his shirt and flipped him over, a series of long scratches striped his back. She looked at her fingers. Bloody skin caked each fingernail, red and dripping.
Nausea boiled again. She sat up, pressing a fist against her stomach and blinking away tears. She couldn’t vomit. Not here. Not now.
“We have medicine for cramps.”
Marcelle looked up. Arxad stood in front of her, his head bobbing at the end of his extended neck.
“I don’t have cramps,” she said. “I’m just feeling a bit queasy.”
“Ah! Flight will do that, even to some dragons. Yet, you will have very little time to recover before your next journey.”
“Next journey?”
“You came to liberate the human slaves, did you not?”
“I did, but the only human I have seen, at least she called herself human, didn’t appear to need liberating. She’s happier than most humans on my world.”
“Deference is human, but she no longer has a human body. Her situation would take much too long to explain now, but she is not one of those you have come to set free.”
“Who is this king she serves?”
“Again, I cannot take the time to explain. You do not need this information in order to complete your mission.” Arxad unfurled his wings. “In order for you to find the people you have come to liberate, you will have to fly to lands south of here, to a warmer climate that you will likely appreciate. If your queasiness is not serious, we should go immediately.”
Marcelle rose slowly from the chair. “What was the extane trade all about? Why did you want it?”
“Extane, as you call it, is a gas that dragons need to survive. Knowing that you have an ample supply on your world is beneficial. That is all I will tell you.”
She gave him a skeptical stare. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I do not seek your approval.” He lowered his body to the floor. “Now climb on again, and I will take you to your people.”
“What about my traveling companions? Aren’t we going to wait for them?”
“I have spoken to the king, and he said that you must go as soon as possible, and they will make the same journey later. Perhaps you will reunite in the southern region.”
“Perhaps? That’s not exactly comforting.”
“Did you come here to gain comfort?” Arxad glowered at her. “I suspect that you will find none. In fact, I doubt that you will even survive. The forces against you are far stronger than you can imagine, and your puny poking sticks will be of little use against most dragons. If you escape our realm with your skin intact, I will be very much surprised.”
Marcelle glanced at her swords. “Do you have a suggested strategy? Do we secretly bring the slaves here to transport them home?”
“This land is too distant. Such a journey would kill the young and the feeble. There is a second portal in the Southlands, but it is no longer operational. If you can restore its function and clear the obstacles in your way, you will have easy access to your world, but every step will be dangerous, as you will soon learn.
“Your friends will have a guide, and you can hope they find you later. Then you can decide on your course of action. But, no matter what you do, one part of the stratagem is crucial. You must never divulge that I have helped you. If any other dragon knew what you were doing, he would kill you without a second thought and without mercy. If it were known that I have brought you here, then my own life would be in jeopardy.”
“I understand,” she said, nodding. “You are our only dragon friend.”
“Friend?” His eyes flashed, and a sharp growl punctuated every word. “I am not your friend.”
A tremor rode up Marcelle’s legs, but she steeled herself, keeping her stare fixed on the dragon’s eyes. Something in his countenance gripped her heart. Passion? Resolve? Whatever it was, it carried no malice, just a steadfast purpose that would not be thwarted.
“Very well.” She restrapped her bag to her back and climbed up the dragon’s scales. After settling in her seat, she hung on to the spine with one hand. She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. Could she really do this? If the slaves were unable to free themselves, what made her think she could do it with, as the dragon put it, poking sticks?”
Finally, she exhaled and said with the strongest voice she could muster, “I’m ready.”
“All we have to do,” Edison said, pointing at the tank, “is to jump on and ride it to the other side.”
Adrian studied the tilting cylinder. “Ride it? Are you sure it floats? Maybe it’s just stuck in the ice.”
“A gas tank like this will float when filled with air, and extane is slightly lighter than air.”
Adrian touched his sword’s hilt. “The ice is thin, but cutting it with a blade to make a path across the river could take all day.”
“We’re not going to cut it.” Edison withdrew a pair of stones from his pocket and showed them to Adrian. Flint stones. “A good soldier never goes on a journey without a way to build a fire.”
“You mean you’re going to light the gas?”
“We’ll tip the tank so that the valve shifts forward and points down.” He tossed the walking stick toward Adrian. “Just push from the back with this.”
Adrian caught the stick and looked at the tank again. “Are you sure it will support both of us? Balancing will be tricky. And besides, you can’t swim. If you fall in, you’ll sink like a stone.”
“We’ll go one at a time. If I fall, I can hold on to the tank.” Edison pointed at him. “You cross first and shove the tank back to me. With the ice cleared, it should float that far. If you can’t throw the steering stick across this stream, then you’re not the son I trained.”
Adrian looked at the stick. This plan sounded feasible in theory, but nearly impossible in practice. “If you say so, but won’t Arxad be upset if we use so much extane?”
“Perhaps. I’m not sure how much we will use, but I got the impression that he just wanted to sample it.”
Cassabrie spoke up. “Your father is correct, Adrian. Arxad has already tested the gas and found it satisfactory. He requested the delivery for sampling only, so he has no further need of this tank.”
“You’re right,” Adrian said. “Cassabrie tells me the dragon is finished with it.”
Edison rolled the flint stones into Adrian’s palm. “Good luck, son.”
Adrian stared at the angular reddish stones, each about the size of two knuckles. This idea sounded impossible, but what other choice did they have? With Marcelle in that dragon castle, they had to cross the river somehow.
Gripping the stones in one han
d and the walking stick in the other, Adrian ran and leaped onto the tank. With a loud crunch, it broke through the ice and sank to within inches of the top where he stood. Using the stick to balance, he rode out the bobbing motion. When it finally settled, he lowered himself to a crouch, tucked the stick in his lap, and turned the valve wheel.
A hiss rose above the sound of wind and crunching ice. Adrian pushed the stones into the extane flow and struck them together. A spark flew from the contact point and instantly ignited the gas. A bright orange and green flame shot out, pointing to his right.
Now all he had to do was spin the tank about ninety degrees toward the front and shift his weight just enough to push the flame close to the ice. He and Jason had balanced on logs floating on the Elbon River, sometimes on the same log as they tried to throw each other off, but this oddly shaped tank wouldn’t be as predictable … or stable.
Standing fully and taking in a breath, he looked at his father. Edison’s gray eyebrows twitched, and his chapped lips moved silently. Was he nervous? Praying?
The wind blew harder, making Adrian cold for the first time since Cassabrie entered his body. His ankle throbbed, worse than ever. This idea now seemed more impossible than ever. What had possessed him to believe that crossing the river in this way made any sense at all?
“Adrian,” Cassabrie said. “What is this feeling I detect? Fear? Doubt?”
He mumbled his reply. “A sudden burst of common sense.”
A frigid gust knocked him off balance. He teetered, waving the stick wildly with one hand.
“Son!” Edison shouted as he waded in. “Reach the branch toward me!”
Adrian toppled to the far side of the tank and crashed through the ice. As soon as he sank, the ice shifted and trapped him underneath. He shivered so hard, his teeth ached. Cold! Mind-numbing cold!
Flailing, he thrust his body upward and hit his head on the solid roof. A death trap. Pain shot through his spine. His limbs numb, he sank deeper.
“Adrian!” Cassabrie shouted. “Do not despair. I have called for help.”
