Starlighter

  “Greetings, Arxad. What brings you to the nest at this hour?”

  Koren cocked her head. The voice was that of a female, higher and more refined than any dragon she had ever heard.

  “I have news,” Arxad said. “As I suspected, Koren is very likely a Starlighter. Her gift has already been manifested in a powerful way.”

  “This is a pleasant surprise. Have you taken her to the Zodiac?”

  “Not yet. I discovered her gift only moments ago, so I thought it best to inform you immediately.”

  “A wise choice. Take her to the Zodiac as soon as possible. If she proves her mettle, then bring her here to me.”

  Arxad bowed his head, but not enough to expose Koren. When he lifted off, he rose high before banking, thereby blocking any view of his passenger from ground level. Yet when he headed back the way they had come, he had to dive to clear the top of the entryway. The sudden drop made Koren rise slightly, and when she tried to regain her grip, her fingers slipped. She slid down the scales and fell two body lengths to the floor, landing on her backside with a loud thump.

  “Who is there?” the female bellowed.

  While Koren lay still and tried to regain her breath, Arxad wheeled around and stormed back into the chamber. After sliding to a stop, he looked at the circle of flames and spoke quickly. “This is Koren, the Starlighter. I did not tell you she was with me, because I thought—”

  “You thought I would kill her.” The fountains suddenly stopped. For a moment, darkness flooded the room, and cool air washed over Koren’s face. Then, as if summoned by individual commands, lanterns mounted on the wall sprang to life one by one.

  From the center of the room, a woman walked toward them, crossing the barrier the fountains had once guarded. Tall and sleek, she was wrapped in a form-fitting black garment that looked more like a bed sheet than a dress, tied in place at the shoulder. She kept her head perfectly erect, a posture unlike any human Koren had ever seen.

  When she reached Koren, she leaned over, letting her slick black hair slide in front of her shoulders, and extended her free hand. “Rise, child. Let me feel your presence.”

  Koren rode the woman’s strong pull and stood in front of her. She tilted her head up to look at this strange human. Blue paint covered her eyelids, highlighting her black-as-coal eyes with oval pupils that seemed unable to focus, as if she might be blind, or at least nearly so. She smelled of oil and wood smoke, and dark pink blushed her high cheekbones, making her appear as one who had been working in the fields during the hottest part of the day.

  Giving the woman’s hand a quick glance, Koren mentally shook her head. No. This woman had never worked a day in her life. Her skin was smooth and ivory white. Maybe the heat from the fire had flushed her face.

  When the woman drew her hand back, Koren gave her a curtsy. “As my master, Arxad, told you, I am Koren, and I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Is that so?” The woman’s voice dripped with poison. “Perhaps you will think otherwise in due time.”

  Koren folded her hands behind her back and shifted from foot to foot. What could she say now? Nothing at all would probably be best. Just wait for this owl-eyed woman to decide what to do.

  “I am Zena, and I tell you that only for the sake of convenience. You will learn nothing more about me for the rest of your days, which will be few if you are not a true Starlighter.” She gestured with a finger. “Come. I will show you something.”

  Zena turned and, with her head stiff and erect again, walked toward the center of the room. As Koren followed, she tried to see what was in the circle of the now-inactive fountains, but Zena’s black-cloaked frame made it impossible. When she crossed an arc of holes in the floor, the output vents for the fountains, Koren looked back. Arxad approached, but slowly. His eyes darted, and his wings trembled. Was he anxious? Scared?

  When they arrived at the center, Zena stepped out of the way and extended her arm toward a circular marble basin on the floor, big and deep enough to serve as a human’s bathtub. A black dragon egg sat within, padded underneath and at the sides with enough white sheets to make it sit as high as the top rim of the basin.

  Koren stifled a gasp. The prophecy was coming true!

  “This,” Zena said, caressing the egg with her long fingers, “is the hope of the world. When the dragon inside hatches, he will become the ruler of all and will usher in a time of unprecedented prosperity. He will locate deposits of pheterone that are so rich, the dragons will have enough to thrive for millennia. And there will no longer be a need to enslave anyone. We humans will be free to congregate in the Northlands and build our own society.”

  Koren ached to ask, “What other lies did the dragons tell you?” But she dared not. Still, that and other questions dogged her mind. Why would a human be so dedicated to a dragon egg? Had she never heard Tamminy’s rhyme? Did she really believe that the dragons wouldn’t kill every human once the pheterone was located? And it seemed that Zena probably lived within the circle of fire, guarding the egg night and day. Why would the dragons put her in charge of such a crucial task?

  “So,” Zena continued, “if Arxad judges you to be a true Starlighter, you will receive a new Assignment with me, and I will explain your duties at that time.”

  While Zena was speaking, a soft voice sounded. “Are you all right?”

  Koren glanced at Arxad. It couldn’t have been his voice. The call was too soft, too weak. And it couldn’t have been Zena’s. She was talking already. Koren rose to her tiptoes and looked behind the egg. No one was there—only an empty goat-hair bag with a long strap lay near the egg.

  “Shall I take her to the Zodiac now?” Arxad asked.

  While staring at Koren, Zena nodded. “If she is a Starlighter, the sooner she begins her duties, the better.”

  “And if she is not?”

  A blend of a frown and a smile twisted Zena’s face. “Then terminate her. She knows too much.”

  Ten

  Danger: Boundary to the Forbidden Zone. In the rays of the morning sun now breaking through the scattered clouds, Jason stared at a wooden sign nailed to the wide trunk of an old oak. The black-lettered words felt like pinchers that drew dark sayings from his mind. The older men in the commune often quoted sages and warned about the evils that lurked in the forbidden zone. Misty ghosts called snatchers stalked the forests, waiting for unwary travelers in order to suck out their souls. Invisible doorways led to a domain of darkness where demons would hang intruders from a tree and slowly dip their heads into pots of boiling oil. Carnivorous plants abounded. Like expert archers, they would shoot poisonous thorns at passersby and use crawling vines to drag them into their clutches.

  An old song one of the gardeners used to chant came to mind.

  Evil weeds, disguised as flowers,

  Keep away your stealing powers.

  Treasured thoughts are mine to hold;

  Take them not within your fold.

  Jason clutched his axe more tightly. Even though he had long doubted these stories, just thinking about them brought a chill. Every tall tale had some seed of truth, and they would soon learn what mysteries gave rise to such grave terrors.

  He looked at Elyssa. Now clean and dry in her lumberjack ensemble, she glanced around, as if taking in every iota of data. Was she noticing the way moss hung from low-reaching branches? The thickness of autumn debris on the narrow path? Or was she taking in the variety of reds in the few remaining leaves, each hue so slightly different that only she could tell them apart? Even as a little girl, she had chattered about the subtle changes around them. Back then he had thought she was just playing make-believe, but now he knew better. A Diviner noticed everything.

  Randall yawned and stretched his arms. “So what now?”

  Tibalt tapped the sign with his axe handle. “This is as far as my old noggin remembers clearly. The last time I went to the gateway, I was just a little tyke, and the dungeon spiders spun cobwebs in my brain over the years. I could try to lead us, b
ut we wouldn’t want to fall into any bottomless pits.”

  “Bottomless pits?” Elyssa repeated. “That’s not possible.”

  “Is that so, little lady?” Tibalt raised a finger. “My own pappy told me about them, and he never told a lie in his life.”

  Elyssa winked at Jason before shifting back to Tibalt. “Can you tell me who fell into one of these bottomless pits and then came back to report that there was no bottom?”

  “Well…” Tibalt’s head drooped. “I suppose someone fell clean through to the other side of the world and popped out a hole there. He would have to learn to walk upside down, but you can get used to almost anything.”

  Elyssa grinned. “I’ll accept that, Tibber. Let’s try to avoid the bottomless pits.”

  Tibalt pointed at Jason. “Our next step is up to you. Which way is the litmus finger pointing?”

  Jason glanced at his shirt and unfastened two buttons, revealing the odd mark over his heart. The patch of skin pulsed. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

  Elyssa laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re better at finding your way through the forest than anyone I know, even better than Adrian.”

  “Not better than Randall.” Jason nodded toward him. “He won the open division of the tracking tournament.”

  Randall waved a hand. “Adrian was sick that day. I think he’s the best.”

  “In any case,” Elyssa continued, sounding exasperated, “maybe the finger will enhance the gifts you already have. Just start walking and trust your senses. I’ll be right behind you, Tibalt can come next, and then Randall can guard our backs.”

  Randall pulled his photo gun from the holster. “That suits me. I just hope this will dry out soon.”

  Jason looked down at the path, which ended abruptly at the old oak and was replaced by sporadic gaps in the browning underbrush. After heaving a sigh, he marched ahead. Maybe Adrian had passed this way. But what map did he have? Who had told him how to follow in Frederick’s steps? Had Frederick left a clue somewhere?

  With every footfall, Jason concentrated on the sensory input. As usual, the scents of the forest—drying leaves, rotting logs, and pine—drifted in, as well as the subtle indicators the gentle breeze delivered—lower humidity, indicating clearing weather; wildflowers, a hint that a meadow of grasslands lay nearby, which would be a good place to get a better view of the land; and something new, something powerful. Was it emotion? Intrigue made into a potent entity? If mystery could ride the air, then this breeze carried it on a galloping horse.

  He followed the sensation. With each turn, the lurking mystery either heightened or lessened, allowing him to adjust his direction and aim for the source. He pressed on through the forest, sometimes plowing through thick brush and sometimes clambering straight over low, flat boulders instead of going around them. Now it seemed that the finger’s pulse pressed against his skin from the inside, as if trying to break free. Was it really pointing the way?

  “Jason,” Elyssa whispered, “I sense…”

  He stopped and turned. “What?”

  Squinting as she glanced around, her voice stayed low. “I’m not sure. Confusion, maybe? Someone or something is watching, and it doesn’t understand why we’re here.”

  Randall turned on his gun and spoke over its low hum. “I’m ready.”

  “Don’t be too quick on the trigger,” Jason said. “Confusion’s not usually a sign of an enemy.” He scanned the dense collection of skinny birches and sweet gums. A human wouldn’t be able to hide behind any trees in this area, and certainly no mountain bear could. Above, the branches held few leaves, far from enough to veil a predator ready to pounce, at least not one of significant size.

  With his gaze locked on the next gap in the underbrush, he trudged forward. “Let’s just keep moving. If our confused onlooker really wants to learn why we’re here, it will ask.”

  Soon the forest thinned out, and they emerged onto an endless field of tall green grass and yellow wildflowers—so many blossoms it seemed that someone had scattered wide yellow ribbons on a green canvas.

  As if signaled by a musical conductor, the guiding call of mystery suddenly ceased, leaving behind only a fading echo. Jason stopped abruptly. Elyssa collided with him from behind with an “Oomph.”

  “Shhh!” Jason turned and faced the woods. Tibalt and Randall had just walked onto the field, both wide-eyed as they joined Elyssa at Jason’s right.

  “What’s wrong?” Elyssa whispered.

  “Do you still sense someone?” Jason asked.

  She shook her head. “But I did until just now.”

  “And I felt guided by the litmus finger until just now.”

  Tibalt spoke in a low, mysterious tone. “A guide who hides when a path divides is not a friend but a foe. He laughs when you’re lost, he cares not the cost. His plan is to bring you to woe.”

  Jason nodded. “I get your point.”

  “So what do we do?” Elyssa asked.

  “There are other ways to find guidance.” Jason scanned the ground, searching for tracks, bent grass blades, or fragments of broken twigs. If Adrian wasn’t being pursued, he would never venture out into the unknown without leaving some kind of trail, either to be followed by someone who recognized the signs or to be retraced in the unlikely event he became lost.

  Finally, he grabbed a stalk of grass and broke it off. Nothing. Not a sign that Adrian had come this way.

  A hissing voice shot from the forest, as if spat out by a man with sand in his vocal cords. “Turn back or die!”

  Jason searched for the source, but nothing moved in the woods. “Turn back?” he called as he raised the axe. “Someone guided us here. Why should we turn back now?”

  “The meadow conceals death. Many have trod there, but few have returned.”

  Randall lifted his gun. “Who are you? Show yourself.”

  “Indeed,” Tibalt added, brandishing his axe. “Why should we trust the faceless? A man who hides his eyes hides his purpose.”

  The hissing returned. “Very well.”

  Just inside the forest boundary, thick gray mist gathered on the ground and flowed out to the meadow in a rolling wave. Jason readied the axe. The litmus finger pulsed again, so hard his skin felt like it was on fire.

  The mist began gathering into a human-shaped column. Without face or features, the foggy apparition was too indistinct to allow a determination of its gender or expression. It was more shadow than substance.

  Soon the shape rose to Jason’s height, and the mist swirled and boiled within its nebulous body in concert with its renewed hiss. “Now that you see me, are you more apt to heed my counsel?”

  Tibalt gasped. “A snatcher!”

  Randall pointed his gun. “Get back before I blast you!”

  “Put your weapons away,” the snatcher said. “They will have no effect but to anger me. Fear is your enemy, but not I. The only souls I take are those who have already been purchased by my master—the cowardly, the fearful, the spineless members of your race—and they give their souls freely. Only those who display fear need fear me.”

  Jason let the axe rest on the ground. “Why should we turn back?”

  “No human who has ventured into the meadow has ever returned. The flowers are deceivers, and the grass is a devourer. I have seen many brave and strong warriors absorbed like water from the sky.”

  Jason looked at the meadow and imagined Adrian crumbling into dust, consumed by the innocent-looking grass. He turned back to the snatcher. “I was guided here, and my guidance stopped as soon as I left the forest.”

  The snatcher stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. “The only guidance here is provided by the keeper of the gateway, and it can be heard only by the bearer of the key.”

  Jason glanced at Elyssa, hoping for a bit of silent counsel. Should he tell this ghost what their mission was?

  Elyssa bowed to the snatcher. “We appreciate your warnings, kind ghost, but we must be on our w
ay.” She hooked Jason’s arm with her own and pulled him toward the meadow. “Lose the axe and run.”

  Stumbling with her forceful tug, Jason dropped the axe and went along. “What are you doing?”

  “Skipping steps! Just trust me!”

  Randall jogged along at their side while Tibalt followed, high-stepping to avoid the flowers. “Nice buttercups!” Tibalt called. “I wouldn’t hurt you. No, not old Tibber!”

  As their feet brushed through the flowers, a sickeningly sweet aroma rose into Jason’s nostrils. Dizziness swam through his mind. His throat tightened, and his legs grew weak. “Poison!” he gasped.

  “Exactly!” Elyssa yelled. “Run!”

  She let go and sprinted straight ahead. Jason held his breath and charged after her, glancing back to check on the others. Randall had hoisted Tibalt over his shoulder and was carrying him as he ran, Tibalt shouting all the way. “I can run, you big ox! Put me down!”

  Jason pulled on Elyssa’s shirt, signaling her to slow down. When Randall caught up, he set Tibalt down and all four ran together. How long could they hold out without breathing in the noxious fumes? The meadow seemed to have no end, and the flowers only thickened as they waded out into the green and yellow sea. Did Elyssa really know what she was doing?

  Suddenly, Jason tripped over something, and the ground dropped away. He, Elyssa, and Tibalt plunged into a gaping void. From above, Randall shouted, loud and long, “Grab the rope!” but his voice quickly faded.

  Jason caught sight of a rope near the side of the cylindrical pit, close to Tibalt. “Tibalt!” he yelled. “Grab it!”

  Tibalt lamented in singsong. “The bottom is never, we plummet forever. No water, no meat, no ground for our feet.”