by Scott Baron
Ara’s been around a long time. She’s bound to have some thoughts on the situation, he hoped as he hurried to her enclosure.
“You’re pretty much screwed, Charlie,” she informed him.
“Gee, thanks. I kind of knew that part already,” he shot back to the dragon. “My point is, I got Leila in trouble, and I have a sinking feeling Malalia isn’t going to help her, no matter what she may say.”
“On that, we are in agreement,” Ara said. “She came with her father just the other day, to observe me as he tried to tap my power.”
“Malalia? I didn’t know that happened.”
“Of course not. You’re just a house slave, Charlie, and the visla’s daughter is playing you to get to me.”
“Well, that much I realized, but why hold Leila? Even if she did see the weapons, like you said, we’re slaves, so what could we do about it?”
“It’s not about your ability to effect an outcome. It’s about keeping a secret under wraps. You know full well that rumor flies fast in any household, and this one is no different.”
“So you think they’ll keep her locked up until they do whatever it is they have planned?”
“That, or they’ll kill her. It wouldn’t be the first time a loose end was cleaned up in that manner, I assure you.”
Charlie strode across the enclosure, an anger building inside of him.
“Stop that pacing, will you? My God, you wear your emotions on your sleeve. You must learn to present an impenetrable attitude of calm confidence, no matter how bad the situation may seem. The hesitation and uncertainty it can produce in your opponents may one day save your life.”
“You sound a bit like Ser Baruud, you know?”
A curious look crossed the dragon’s face.
“I’ve heard of the man. He killed many of my kind in his day.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s all right. He was a gladiator, and they were there to kill him. I cannot grudge the man for possessing such an admirable survival instinct. And from what I hear, he has become a very learned and thoughtful teacher. It’s funny, actually, how many great warriors become gentle in their old age.”
“He’s not gentle, I assure you.”
“Perhaps gentle wasn’t the best word,” Ara admitted. “At ease with himself, might work better.”
“Now that describes him,” Charlie agreed. “But what about Leila? She may die because she looked into something at my request.”
“Then she dies. You don’t know her very well. Why should it bother you so?”
“Because she is a good person, Ara. Because she is one of the few who truly cares about making a difference in the world, even if it is only through her treatment of the creatures in her care. She doesn’t deserve to die on my account.” He kicked a small rock in frustration. “Oh, what does it matter? I can’t even pilot a ship, so our escape would be cut short before it even began.”
The Zomoki eyed him with great curiosity, the mighty gears in her head churning as an idea formed.
“Escape, you say?”
“It was just a passing thought.”
“No, please. Tell me your idea. Humor me.”
“Well, I thought if we could escape from here, these collars wouldn’t be effective anymore. What’s their range, anyway?”
“Line of sight, typically,” Ara said. “For most vislas, that’s around fifty miles or so.”
“Okay, so offworld, he wouldn’t be able to harm us.”
“But he would be able to find you no matter how far you fly. That’s how the collars work.”
“And if I could get them off? You’ve seen that weird thing that happens when I use a konus magusi spell while touching a collar. It drains its power somehow. What if I could get my hands on a fully charged konus? Then I might actually be able to shut it off entirely.”
The dragon seemed to ponder his question with great interest, shifting on her haunches, stretching her wings.
“Charlie, I want you to try to do as you just mentioned. Touch my collar and cast.”
“But I only have this pathetic little konus, and all it’s really good for is picking up waste.”
“Trust me. There’s still power in it, even if only a small amount. Humor me. Just try,” she urged, lowering her head to the ground so he could reach her collar.
“Okay, but don’t get upset when nothing happens.”
“You need to believe, Charlie. Believe as if you were wearing the most powerful konus ever made. Cast as if you had infinite power at your control. Be confident and sure.”
He lay his hands on her massive collar and let the words fill him and flow out. His lips didn’t move––he spoke them with his mind, doing as the Zomoki had said, casting as if he had all the power in the world. He repeated the spell over and over, when he suddenly felt a flash of strange heat beneath his hands.
“What just happened?” he asked aloud.
The dragon looked at him and smiled a toothy grin.
“You just punched way above your weight, Charlie. You began to weaken the hold of my collar, despite the limited capacity of your konus.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And stop speaking out loud. Someone may notice.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
“It’s all right. It’s all still new to you,” the dragon replied.
She looked at him curiously as a nascent plan formed in her head.
“Okay, Charlie, I have an idea. One that will help Leila, and you, and me,” she said. “But I have to warn you, it’s going to be dangerous.”
“My whole existence is dangerous at this point, it seems. How much worse can it possibly get?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You want to do what?” Charlie blurted when the great Zomoki told him her plan.
“I want you to steal a konus––one of the powerful ones––or several, if you are able. With them I hope you can truly weaken the hold this collar has over me. It is a powerful device, but if I can get far enough away from this accursed estate, the ambient restraining fields Maktan put in place all around us won’t hold sway over me any longer.”
“And then?”
“And then we flee. Hopefully somewhere it will take him a long time to find us,” she replied. “And, Charlie, you’re doing it again.”
“Sorry. Habit,” he replied, silently this time. “But there’s one problem with your plan, Ara. This planet, while sizable, from what I gather, isn’t big enough to hide us from him for long.”
“You misunderstand. I meant we flee to another planet. Another system, actually. I fear you are correct in your assessment. The visla wishes to drain my magic to fuel his weapons of war, and I cannot let that come to pass.”
Escape. It was the same idea that had crossed Charlie’s mind when he passed the parked ships just a short while earlier. It was also quite impossible.
“A konus is one thing, but a ship? I haven’t the first idea how to fly one, and I don’t think we’ll have too easy a time Shanghaiing a bunch of Drooks to power it for us.”
“Shanghai?”
“It means to kidnap. An old shipping expression from a time when crews were snatched off the street and forced into servitude.”
“So more or less what they do to Drooks,” she noted.
“Yeah, I suppose so. But we’re not exactly pirates, Ara, and kidnapping an entire crew just isn’t feasible, even if we were. And besides, there’s absolutely no way we could fit you in one of the ships parked around the buildings. They’re nowhere near large enough to carry you.”
Ara laughed with amusement. “Again, you misunderstand, Charlie. When I said we flee to another system, I was not referring to using a ship.”
“You can fly in space?”
“Well, technically, yes, though I really don’t like to do so for too long. However, if I can get far enough from Maktan’s grip to regain control of my power, I can cast a travel spell and take u
s there. All I need is a destination and the freedom to use my power unrestrained.”
Charlie’s jaw literally dropped open. “You can teleport?”
“We call it traveling, akin to what those in ships call a jump, and it is a skill very few species possess. Zomoki are by far the most adept in its use.”
“And you’re saying you can telep––travel with passengers? You can jump?”
“Yes, if you were upon my back, you would travel with me. There’s just one thing.”
“There always is.”
“In order to travel to another system without doing so from the vacuum of space––”
“Which would kill me.”
“Yes, which would kill you. In order to do that, I would have to fly as high as possible without breaching the atmospheric shell surrounding this world. It would be terribly cold for one such as you.”
“And the air would be thin.”
“I can teach you a spell to aid with that aspect. But the cold, alas, I cannot help you control.”
A crazy idea sprouted in Charlie’s head. One that might even get him home.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “If you were in space, you say you could travel much farther than if you did it from within a planet’s atmosphere, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Like, how far are we talking here?”
“Quite far, actually. But that is simply not an option. You would perish in the vacuum.”
“I know, but I was thinking, what if I was protected from it? What if I was wearing a space suit?”
“A what?”
“Like a suit of armor, only made to seal in the air and keep you alive in space.”
“That sounds like a magic I have not seen before, and I know of none who possess it.”
Charlie grinned. “I do.”
“But how?”
“Back at my ship. We have storage bins with suits, all sealed up, nice and protected from the elements. Even after these three years in the Balamar Wastelands, they’ll be good as new, so long as no one scavenged them.”
“The Wastelands are not often frequented. It is a place of death and bad fortune.”
“Well, the Tslavars that captured me and killed my friends didn’t seem too averse to going there.”
“They likely saw trace of your vessel’s demise and investigated in hopes of finding profit. As you are here today, they were obviously successful.”
“So you think the rest of my gear will still be there?”
“Likely,” she replied. “But even if you had this enchanted suit of space armor, I am both too weak to even attempt such a travel, as well as restrained from great acts of magic by the collar around my neck. Even if you could weaken it once more, I doubt you could break it. Your magic is simply not strong enough.”
The issue was the magical locking sequence, a spell keeping the collar on her neck. Without the power to remove it, his hopes for a return home were a mere dream.
“Hang on a minute,” Charlie said. “There’s a plasma cutter on the ship. It’s designed to cut through just about anything, and from what I’ve seen so far, a whole lot of this magical stuff isn’t designed to stand up to tech from my world.”
“And you believe this plasma tech-magic will remove my collar?”
“It might. The collars are reflective, so a laser wouldn’t work, but plasma very well might.”
“Interesting. But there is still the problem of time. It would take me a long time to fully regain my energy after this ordeal. And I fear Maktan would find us long before then, though I’d be happy to take you to a system as far away from here as I can.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Charlie chided. “Think where my ship crashed.”
“The Wasteland.”
“Yes, and what’s in the Wasteland?”
“Nothing. That is why it is called a––oh my.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“If you were to splash the waters of Balamar onto my wounds, I would heal in no time.”
Ara rose up to her full height, thrilled at the new prospect. One of freedom, and perhaps even revenge.
“It will still take us many jumps to reach the Wasteland, though. And I will need to replenish my energy repeatedly.”
“Then we take rest stops along the way. So long as we keep ahead of Maktan, we’ll be okay. Though he does want to use you to charge all of his slaaps and konuses, so I have a feeling he might not let you go so easily.”
“This is what I fear. However, it is far better to die in action than be drained of my power in captivity. Gather the warmest coverings you can, and see about acquiring a powered konus. We should leave at once.”
Much as Charlie wanted to do just that, his sense of loyalty to his friends simply wouldn’t let him.
“I need to bring a few people, Ara. My friends. Good people enslaved as we are.”
“If you say so, but be quick about it. I fear the visla will attempt to use me for his foul plans sooner than later.”
“I know, and I’ll be quick. It’ll be easy enough to talk to Tuktuk,” Charlie noted. “The tricky part will be freeing Leila.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Hey, Charlie, what are you doing out so late?”
“Actually, I was just coming to see you, Tuk,” he replied to his blue friend. “What are you doing in this wing? Your room is over near mine by the kitchen.”
The blue man turned a slightly darker shade of azure.
“Oh, you dog! You were over at Magda’s, weren’t you?”
“I do not know what a dog is, Charlie, but I would appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down.”
“Sure, sure. Your secret’s safe with me, buddy. And good for you.”
“Thank you. It’s like I told you when you first got here, Magda’s a good woman.”
“And she’s lucky to have you,” he replied. “Well, this kind of puts a new twist on what I wanted to talk with you about, but she’s a big girl, so I know there’s room for one more.”
“Magda is well-built, but by no means would I classify her as a ‘big girl,’ Charlie.”
“No, not Magda. Ara.”
“Ara?”
“Yeah. The Zomoki.”
“You named the Zomoki?”
“Gah! Again! No, I didn’t name her. That’s her name. Well, technically, it’s actually some crazy-long mish-mash that sounds like a cross between a curse and a sneeze, but I just call her Ara for short.”
The blue man looked around the empty corridor, a relieved look in his eyes that no one was near enough to hear their conversation.
“Charlie, we shouldn’t be out here chatting in the hallways at this hour.”
“I know.”
“Good. So, I think––”
“We should go to the kitchen and talk there. It’s got thicker walls so no one will hear the staff working. That’s a good place to talk.”
“I was going to say I think we should go to our respective rooms.”
“Trust me, Tuk, you’ll want to hear what I have to offer.”
“Offer?”
“Yeah. Something we’ve been waiting for since we first met.”
Tuktuk’s eyes turned on their stalks, a pensive look forming on his face. “Well, all right, you’ve made me curious, I’ll admit. I’ll brew up some tea, then we can talk.”
Charlie beamed brightly. “Excellent. You’re going to love this.”
“I don’t love this, Charlie,” the blue chef said over his steaming cup of tea.
“But, Tuk, I’m talking about freedom. Actual freedom. A chance to start your life over somewhere else, not bound as a slave for someone.”
“But I enjoy my work, Charlie. And I’m actually getting to do something I’m good at for once. I’m a good cook, and I’m appreciated here.”
“But you could be a chef anywhere, man. Don’t you get it? You said it yourself, your wife left you once she was unable to raise money to buy your freedom. Y
ou’ve got no obligations to the outside world, and if you bring Magda with, you two could start anew.”
“You just don’t get it, Charlie. I like it here. I’m treated well, fed well, clothed and housed. And all I have to do is cook. If I were working in the outside world, all of my wages would go toward housing and sustenance. Here, that’s all covered, and I live in a palace. A palace, Charlie. It beats a small housing unit on the outskirts of some grimy city.”
“But you’re a slave, Tuktuk.”
“Aren’t we all, in a sense? Slaves to our jobs, on a constant quest for coin to pay for the basic necessities of life. Maybe a year or two ago I might have jumped at the chance, but I’ve come to see things differently since I’ve been here.”
It was a response Charlie had not anticipated, and one he did not have a ready answer for. He was offering his friend freedom, and it was being declined.
“Besides, even if I did want to go, Magda certainly wouldn’t. She loves it here, and I wouldn’t leave her behind.”
Charlie rose from his seat and began gathering a few snacks from the pantry and cooling unit, placing them on a small tray. “Well, I won’t twist your arm, Tuk. But think about it, okay? I don’t know if you’ll ever get an opportunity like this again.”
“I appreciate it, really, I do,” his friend replied. “What are you doing with all of that?” he asked as the human headed toward the door, tray in hand.
“You know Leila’s been taken for nosing into some of the visla’s affairs. Something is about to happen, Tuk, and I think it has to do with his Council of Twenty buddies.”
“Shh!” Tuktuk hissed, looking around with fear in his eyes. “Do not mention them, Charlie. Those are powerful people.”
“I know. And I think they’re making a play to become even more so. Why else would they need tens of thousands of weapons? I haven’t heard of any war going on.”
“Because there isn’t one. And what weapons?”
“The ones the visla’s manufacturing here. Shit. I wasn’t going to tell you that.”
“But there is no war, Charlie.”
