Starlighter

by Bryan Davis

  His own words echoed in his mind. I will stand here until I rot if I have to. But now they seemed a prideful boast, nothing more than the bravado that had intimidated his opponents within the tourney ring.

  He looked again at the floor. The water had climbed to his ankles. This was no tourney ring, and this river would not be intimidated by mere words. Without compassion for its opponents, the river would leave no survivors.

  Elyssa swam with the current. Although darkness shrouded her vision, the walls on each side appeared in her mind as vague shadows, her Diviner’s gift painting an image of abrupt changes in density and moisture in her surroundings. As the river washed her to one side, she pushed the wall with her hands, giving her an extra burst of speed.

  And speed was crucial. How long could Jason keep his fingers in place? As usual, she hadn’t let him in on her plan. This time, it could cost her her life.

  As she pushed off a curve in the left wall and jetted into a frenzied swim, she bit her lip hard. Why couldn’t she trust Jason enough to tell him everything? Why was she so hard on anyone who couldn’t see beyond the physical? He was smart. And wise, too. But being surrounded by fools at the governor’s palace had long ago ripped away her trust in others. One traitor after another had violated a promise, even to the point of revealing her gift to the Counselor. If not for Adrian’s intervention, she would have been tied to the heretic’s stake and burned to death.

  Even in the water’s increasing chill, heat from the fire’s image sizzled across her skin. No heretic had been burned in years, but memories of the last victim still blazed in her mind.

  At the age of seven, she and Jason had gone to the village to buy yeast, and a crowd was funneling toward the pillory. Being inquisitive children, they followed and arrived just in time to see the previous Counselor setting a torch at the feet of the widow Halstead. As the flames took hold of the bundles of sticks and straw, she writhed in front of the tall wooden stake, her eyes clenched shut. She cried out, “Creator of All, have mercy on these ignorant people! They know not when a prophet is in their midst!” Then, her head lolled to the side. She was dead long before the fire should have killed her.

  As soon as flames began eating the widow’s dress, Jason covered Elyssa’s eyes and hustled her away. “It’ll be all right,” he had whispered. “She must have done something really bad.”

  But they both knew better. The widow had been kind to every child in the village, telling stories from days gone by, even tales of the dragon world and the Lost Ones, which, she and Jason had later concluded, were the stories that probably got her in trouble. Yet Elyssa knew more. When she and Madam Halstead were alone, the kind old lady would teach her how to use her Diviner’s skills, constantly warning her not to let anyone know about either of them. The Counselor wouldn’t understand that these talents were not evil, but gifts of foresight provided by the Creator to a chosen few who would be prophetesses, and were certainly not the result of dark magic that arose from the powers of the wicked one. At those moments of warning, when the widow spoke with such caution, the image of fire always ignited in her mind, warming her skin now as it did then.

  Fueled by the memory, Elyssa swam on, kicking and paddling even harder. Every few seconds, she glanced ahead, using her eyes as well as her inner vision to search for the rope, the foam—any sign she was approaching the hole.

  Soon, subtle changes pricked her senses—a slight deepening of the water and a slippery feel. Although no foam islands drifted nearby, something was injecting a soapy ingredient. She reached to the right, grasped a rocky projection, and hung on, her face and chest pointing toward the wall. The river rushed by behind her, but not so fast that she couldn’t hold on.

  She looked up. Yes! Light! It was a tiny circle, far, far away. This had to be the bottom of the bottomless pit, and the rope was probably hanging nearby, concealed by the pervasive darkness.

  Unable to search for the rope without letting go of her handhold and risk being swept into the river’s flow, Elyssa closed her eyes and concentrated on the walls around her. To her right, the channel leading back to Jason was tall and wide. To her left lay a narrow tunnel with just enough headroom for her to be sucked into a much swifter flow.

  Her heart thumped. A death hole. Too close for comfort.

  As she pushed the fear aside, she continued her inventory. In front and behind stood bare walls with only a few rocky projections. Climbing them would be impossible. A strange object protruded just above the mouth of the narrow channel to the left, something long and narrow. Hanging on to her wall with her right hand, Elyssa stretched to reach for the object with her left. She grabbed hold. It felt like a metal rod, and it moved with her weight and shifted slightly toward her.

  A sudden gush swept her off her perch and toward the smaller tunnel, but, keeping her head high and holding fast to the rod with both hands, she propped her feet on the wall on each side of the opening and straddled the channel.

  Water splashed against her back, a crushing pressure that pushed and pushed, each second bending her toward the wall’s consuming mouth. Now closer, she could see the mouth more clearly in her mind’s eye. Sharp stones protruded from the top, making it look even more like a gaping maw ready to crunch her body if she gave in to the raging current.

  Her legs cramped, but letting go was out of the question. How long could she stay like this? Sooner or later she would have to give in.

  She pressed her lips together. The rod had to be there for a reason. She gave it a push toward the right. It moved, but again only slightly. Flexing her muscles, she pushed it once more with all her might.

  It jerked fully to the side, nearly slipping from her hand. A low rumble sounded. As she continued watching with her Diviner’s vision, the “teeth” receded, and the upper half of the mouth descended, cutting off the river’s exit. The water level began to rise, buoying her body and lifting her higher and higher. Soon, a hint of light clarified her surroundings and allowed her to see with her physical eyes. The rope came into view, its end dangling above. She would be able to reach it within seconds.

  She squinted at the odd sight. Why would it hang down only this far? That didn’t make sense at all. What good was a rope that could neither lower someone to the bottom nor allow someone to climb from below?

  Seconds later, she grabbed the rope and pulled. The rumble sounded once again, this time muffled by water. The river’s level steadied before slowly descending.

  Elyssa thrust the rope away. The rumble stopped for a moment, then returned. Again the water rose, and as she lifted with the flow, the sounds of the river’s shutoff valve faded. Above, the circle of light slowly grew larger. Treading water with one arm, she reached for the rope and let it pass through her fingers. Better to keep it close in case she had to open the channel again. Apparently, sliding the metal rod to the side passed control of that gate’s open-and-close valve over to the rope.

  Soon the water lifted her to the top and spilled her onto the field of grass and yellow flowers. Still loosely grasping the rope, she found its attachment point, a small hole in a rocky slab. She knelt beside it, water flowing all around, and gave the rope a pull. It slid out a hand’s breadth and stopped. The water receded toward the hole, and the ground soaked up the remnants.

  Elyssa dropped the rope. A click sounded near her feet, and the water slowed its descent. Perhaps it would now rise again, but she couldn’t hold on to the rope indefinitely. Breathing out a long sigh, she looked around. Not far away, two bodies lay on their bellies amidst the flowers. Randall and Tibalt.

  She jumped up and ran toward them. Reaching Tibalt first, she knelt and tried to turn him over, but tiny roots attaching themselves to his skin kept him in place. With a quick jerk, she pulled him free and laid him on his back, his face toward the warm sunshine.

  A satisfied smile lifted his features, but his eyes stayed closed. Blood stained his ratty shirt, so shredded now it exposed a nest of gray chest hairs.

  She lifted
his hand. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around it, obviously hastily fashioned from his shirt. His other hand bore a similar wrap.

  “Tibalt!” she called, shaking him. “Wake up!”

  He let out a snort and slept on, oblivious.

  Shifting on her knees, she turned Randall to his back, again breaking skinny roots that had attached to his skin and clothes. “Randall!” She patted his cheek with her cold hand but to no avail.

  As the meadow’s fragrance drifted into her nose, dizziness flooded her brain, and her vision grew fuzzy. What was she doing here with Randall? And who was the strange old man?

  She glanced from side to side. What was this place, anyway? Where was Jason? Didn’t they come here together? And why was she so wet?

  Moisture seeped in around her knees. She jumped to her feet and looked for the source. Dizzy, she spread out her feet to keep her balance. Water rose from a hole in the ground and spread out across the meadow.

  She squinted at the sunlight’s glare on the water as it bubbled up. How strange! It couldn’t have been doing that for very long. Otherwise the field would have been covered long ago. She stooped and touched the flow with her fingers. Stranger still. It felt slippery, soapy.

  Lifting her fingers to her nose, she took in the odd odor. It was sharp, penetrating. Her dizziness suddenly eased, and her vision clarified. The meadow, now a thumblength deep in water, took on a new aspect.

  Danger!

  She dipped both hands in the water, splashed her face, and shook her head to sling away the drops. Her confusion flew away with them.

  “Jason!” She jumped up and ran to Randall and Tibalt. They both stirred, apparently aroused by the invigorating flow.

  Tibalt sat up and blinked at her, his stringy hair dripping. “Was it really a bottomless pit?”

  “I must admit,” she said as she grasped his wrist to help him rise, “I never found the bottom.”

  “Hee hee!” He stamped a foot in the mud. “I knew it! I just knew it!”

  Randall struggled to his feet and stretched out his arms. “I thought I’d never get that crazy old man up here. He’s not that heavy, but it was a long way—”

  “Who’s crazy, you big oaf! I was climbing like a spider monkey, and your pulls just slowed me down!”

  “Quiet,” Elyssa said, waving her hands at them. “We have to get back to Jason.”

  Randall pulled the photo gun from his holster and examined it. “Where is he?”

  “At the gateway,” she said absently as she stared at the hole. “But I can’t figure out how to get back. I can make the water level drop, but I have to signal Jason to switch the underground river’s flow. We’ll never be able to swim against its current.”

  “Switch the flow?” Randall shook his head. “You’d better start from the beginning.”

  For the next minute or so, Elyssa rattled off what had happened, but only enough to provide the basic picture. They had no time to waste.

  When she finished, Randall stroked his chin. “I’m no expert on hydrology, but it sounds like you’ve put Jason in a lot of trouble.”

  “Trouble? How?”

  He pointed at the hole. “Water follows the path of least resistance. It probably backed up into Jason’s chamber.”

  “Oh, no!” She ran to the edge of the hole and searched for the rope, but a layer of muddy water covered everything around the rim. “He’ll drown!”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll pull his fingers out of the wall first.”

  Elyssa searched through the water frantically. “Oh, Randall, you don’t know Jason like I do. He thinks switching the flow would kill me. He’d rather die than do that.”

  Randall and Tibalt joined her, but it seemed hopeless. While her brain was under the influence of the flowers, she had lost track of where the rope was attached. Even if she did find the it, would she be in time to open the channel? With water now rising to his waist, Jason kept his hands in place and called to the girl in the viewer. “My name is Jason Masters. Are you one of the Lost Ones? Are you on the dragon planet? And what was your name again?”

  The girl in chains cocked her head. She leaned forward as far as she could and mouthed her words carefully.

  Jason read her lips. I am Koren, and I am on a dragon planet. I am a slave here.

  His heart thumping, he shouted his reply. “I’m trying to open this portal so I can rescue you! But the chamber’s flooding! Do you know how to stop the water from rising?” He glanced at his hands. He knew one way to stop the water, but withdrawing his fingers was a deadly option.

  I have no idea, Koren mouthed. Can you run away?

  Jason shook his head. “It’s complicated. I think this is a portal, and I activated it somehow. Maybe the viewer I’m seeing you through is the way to get from here to there.”

  If only I could pull you out. Koren extended a hand, grimacing as the cruel manacles tore into her skin. I…can’t…reach…any farther!

  “No! Don’t hurt yourself!” Jason looked at the water, now level with his chest. Cold and swirling, it took his breath away. At this rate, he would be completely underwater in less than a minute.

  What can I do? Koren asked.

  “I don’t know. Is there a code? A secret word?”

  She shook her head, obviously frustrated. Are you alone? Is there no one you can call to rescue you?

  The water rose to his neck. “I wasn’t alone earlier. Elyssa was with me, but I can’t leave or the river will reverse course, and she might drown.”

  Elyssa? Tell me about her. Maybe I can find her for you. I can see what most people can’t.

  With the water now to his jaw, he lifted his chin to keep his mouth above the surface. “She’s three months younger than me, maybe two inches shorter. Long reddish brown hair, green eyes, pretty face.”

  As Koren closed her eyes, her brow furrowed. I think I see her. Is her face oval shaped?

  “Yes, I would say so.”

  She looks wet.

  “Yes! That’s Elyssa!” His words bubbled in the water. “Is she all right?”

  Koren’s face scrunched tightly. She is kneeling on a carpet of muddy grass and yellow flowers.

  Jason stood on tiptoes to spit out his reply. “Kneeling? Not swimming?”

  Yes. Kneeling. She is with two men, one old and one young, and they are searching for something.

  “Are you seeing the past? The future?”

  Koren opened her eyes. A morose expression dragged down her features. I don’t know. This is all new to me.

  Now holding his breath as the water rose past his lips, Jason stared at Koren. Could she be trusted? Might she be a figment of his imagination, planted in his brain by a snatcher? Or was she real, a true Lost One who begged for his help?

  As if summoned by his thoughts, the smoky ghost returned, swirling above his head. “Release the portal, Jason Masters, or you will die.”

  Jason glared at the phantom. It wanted him to fail, so why should he listen? Maybe this was all part of the gateway puzzle. Maybe filling the chamber was necessary to get the portal to open. Could that be what the inscription meant? Where only courageous hearts may brave the river’s flow. Someone had to have the courage to stay put while water rose to the ceiling. If he could hold his breath long enough, the opening of the portal might rescue him.

  Maybe.

  The litmus finger began throbbing against his skin. He begged for guidance, but it seemed that the special powers the finger had given earlier had faded. And why not? He had found the portal. Maybe that was all the finger was good for.

  Now submerged, Jason looked at the viewer once more. Koren stared back at him, her hands folded in entreaty. The current warped his view, making her lips difficult to read, but she seemed to be shouting “Jason,” again and again. As her chains rose with her clenched hands, she looked so sincere, so pitiful, so lovely.

  He closed his eyes. The image of Elyssa diving into the river’s flow came to mind. Maybe she was safe and kn
eeling in a field, as Koren had seen, and maybe not. At this point, even if he withdrew his fingers, he probably wouldn’t find a way to escape anyway. Keeping them in the wall seemed to be the only way to survive. The opening of the portal was his only hope.

  With his lungs feeling ready to explode, Jason tried to peer at the water’s surface, now up to the ceiling. No air remained in the chamber. All hope of survival seemed to wash away. Even if the portal opened, he might not have the strength to go through it.

  He looked again at Koren. She had buried her face in her bloody hands, crying bitterly. With her image firmly implanted in his mind, Jason closed his eyes again, and everything faded to black.

  Elyssa snatched up the rope. “I found it!”

  “I’ll hold the gate open,” Randall said, taking the rope from her. “But how are you going to fight the current all the way back to Jason?”

  Elyssa shot to her feet and stared at the water. Although it began receding immediately, it seemed slow, far too slow. “If the flow goes down enough, I’m hoping to find a footpath alongside the river. If I can’t, you’ll have to close the gate again so we can rise back to the surface.”

  “How will I know? I can’t see down that far.”

  Elyssa kept her gaze on the hole. “Tibalt will have to hang on to the rope while I work. He’ll give it a tug.”

  Tibalt set his toes at the edge of the pit. “This is familiar, like a story my pappy used to tell me.”

  “A story?” Elyssa asked.

  “He told me about a river that changed direction.” Tibalt lifted his hands. “And you can make it change by using your fingers.”

  “Yes, I know.” Elyssa kept her focus on the water as it drained toward the pit. In only seconds it would be time to jump in and float down with it. “There are holes at the gateway, and when Jason put his fingers in them, the river switched course.”

  “Pappy didn’t say anything about that.” Tibalt lowered his voice and spoke in a growl. “The hero reaches for the gate by touching dragon’s teeth of eight. But enter not the dragon’s cave, or the dragon’s throat will be your grave.”