He sniffed the air, but no smoky odor entered his nostrils. Still, the smoke really was increasing. What was it? Part of the thermal energy source?
He looked at the other dragon. Smoke poured from its flames as well and drifted down to floor level, piling up in a swirling column. Soon, twin columns of smoke twirled at each side. They shaped themselves into humanlike forms, though no faces appeared.
Jason froze. New shivers crawled along his skin. “Snatchers!” he whispered.
The phantom on his left spoke with a raspy voice. “You heeded not my warning. The creator of this conundrum designed the gateway to be opened by one man, and you are not he.”
“We figured that out,” Jason said. “We had Tibalt with us before, though. Why did you warn us not to come?”
Darker smoke swirled around the snatcher’s head. “The gateway’s lock has a precise combination of steps to take, with many perils along the way, and you are attempting them in the wrong order.”
Jason studied the misty phantom. Should he ask questions? Could he trust it to tell the truth? Maybe. It was worth a try. “If we perform all the steps, will we open the gateway, even if they’re out of order?”
The snatcher leaned to one side, as if looking at his twin. Jason swiveled his head. The other snatcher returned the look with a nod but said nothing.
“It is possible,” the first snatcher said, “but success is as unlikely as rain reversing its course and regenerating the clouds. You have already reversed the river, but can your friend defy gravity and ascend to the surface where Tibalt slumbers among the flowers of forgetfulness? Gravity is a law with an unmerciful penalty, and the river makes no stops to allow its passengers to dismount. If your friend fails to terminate her ride at the entry pit or falls back to the water when the slippery sides give way, the river will sweep her to an airless tunnel and a watery grave.”
Jason stared at the snatcher. His stiff legs ached. His arms burned. What could he do? If he jerked his fingers out, Elyssa might drown in the reversing surge and colder water. If he left them in place, she might drown anyway. And how could he know when to reverse the flow to bring her and Tibalt back? They hadn’t talked that part through. Had she already decided on a plan of action on her own, once again skipping steps and assuming he would know what was going on?
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Elyssa had been right so far. Her instincts were sharp, and he could trust her once again. For now, his job was to keep the river flowing backwards and watch for a signal to do otherwise. But what would that signal be?
The second snatcher spoke up. Lower and clearer, his voice carried a hypnotic cadence. “Your mind is awash in confusion. I see it in your eyes. Release your grasp on this illusory quest. It holds nothing for you but sorrow and death, for the souls you seek will not believe that you have come to rescue them. They will perceive you as enemies, troublemakers, liars motivated by selfish interest.”
Jason gazed at the snatcher’s nebulous face. A pair of black eyes formed. Or were they just darker rings of mist? Everything seemed warped, out-of-focus, dizzying.
“Withdraw your fingers,” the snatcher continued in his mesmerizing rhythm, “and we will take you back to the surface. You will return home in peace, and those who seek your life will grant your pardon. No one need ever know that you found the gateway. Let the portal remain closed so that no dragons will ever again stalk this world in search of slaves for their quarries. Let the Lost Ones be few, and let the number of free humans not diminish by even one unfortunate soul. Why should you expend so much energy when you will gain nothing but slavish strife and lead yourself and your friends into chains?”
Jason absorbed the words. The snatcher’s tone was like a song, a mournful ballad that penetrated his mind and weighed down his heart. It seemed that his will to go on drained toward his wet boots and leaked onto the floor. Maybe this creature was right. Surely it knew more than he did about the gateway and dragons. Perhaps he should leave well enough alone and not risk losing the blessings of freedom. The idea made sense, a lot of sense.
Water swirled around Jason’s soles. The river was spilling over its bank and flooding the chamber floor. But how far would it rise, and how fast? Could Elyssa make it to the top of the pit and somehow signal him before he had to withdraw his fingers to keep from drowning?
“It is time to decide,” the snatcher continued. “Give up this foolish mission or die.”
Flexing his arms, Jason glared at the apparition. “Get out of my sight!” Heat surged through his cheeks as his voice rose to a near scream. “You snatchers are good at draining a man’s will. Is that how you steal souls? Do you first rob them of the will to fight?”
“There is never a struggle.” The snatcher’s voice stayed calm and alluring. “Every man gives us his soul freely. Even the will to fight is surrendered without the slightest—”
“Shut up!” Jason shouted. “Maybe every man has given up without a fight, but I am not every man. I am Jason Masters, son of Edison Masters, and we will never…never…allow a slave to toil in misery while we live at ease. That would be hateful, the heart of the godless.” He took a deep breath and let his voice settle to a low growl. “I will never give up. I will stand here until I rot if I have to. Elyssa and I will find the Lost Ones, their children, and their grandchildren, and we will not rest until every last one of them is safe in our world.”
“Safe?” The snatcher let out a scratchy chuckle. “What do you know about safe?” Its smoky arm pointed at the floor. “The water rises. We will see how long your resolve lasts.” With that, the snatcher and its twin dispersed and vanished.
Eleven
Koren hugged Arxad’s neck, staying low on his back as he flew in tight circles toward the Basilica’s ceiling. He had warned her to stay quiet and out of sight. The ride to the Zodiac would be rough but quick, so she just had to hang on.
Arxad shifted upward and zoomed in a near vertical angle through an opening to the starry sky. Koren tightened her grip to keep from sliding down his scales. Then, when he whipped back to level out, she lifted from her seat for a moment before snapping down and banging her chin against his armor-like skin.
Seconds later, Arxad dropped suddenly, making her rise even higher. Interlocking her fingers, she barely kept her body from being ripped away before they entered a hole in the Zodiac’s roof. His plunge eased, and as she settled to his back again, he sailed along a corridor, his wings rising and falling with only the slightest sound of whipping leather interrupting the silence.
Flaming torches lined the walls. As Arxad passed by, each oil-filled cresset flickered, making the dim orange light waver along the stony passage. The fuel-tinged air tickled her nose and pinched her throat. She held her breath, willing herself not to cough or sneeze.
Soon a massive set of double doors swung open, and, dipping under an arch, Arxad glided through and landed in a flurry of wings. “You may get off now,” he said in a low tone. “You are safe here, but keep your voice level at a minimum.”
Koren slid down. Her legs wobbled for a moment, but, as she took in a deep breath from the cleaner air, her muscles strengthened. She looked around. Exposed to the sky, the room was like a courtyard—at least five dragon-lengths wide, bordered by river-stone and cactus beds, and floored with dark slate. Stars spread out over the black canopy above, and the three moons shone clearly, but the cathedral’s spires were nowhere in sight, nor was the belfry at the Basilica.
“We are in the Zodiac’s observatory,” Arxad said. “The ceiling is a dome that projects the heavens for us, so I can watch the nightly dance under any weather conditions.”
She squinted at the display. Now the scene came into focus. It was, indeed, a curved ceiling, several times higher than Arxad’s body length. Clear and crisp as the sky itself, it seemed too real to be a copy. “How do you get the image up there?” she asked.
“With the Reflections Crystal.” Arxad set a clawed hand on a sphere sitting atop a head-
high crystalline column embedded in the floor. The moment he touched it, a shadow darkened the room, as if a cloud had drifted overhead. “We have a series of scopes on the roof, similar to the one you saw at the Basilica, that sweep the sky and send their images to this sphere. It puts those pictures together into one blended view of the heavens. As you can see, when I touch the crystal, I block the projection, and if I move away…” He took a step back, and the shadow disappeared. “The ceiling above us is also retractable, so I can get a direct view if I wish.”
Koren gaped at the sphere. How could it possibly perform such a miracle? And how could these dragons create such intricate objects, especially considering the fact that they needed humans to do something as simple as drill for pheterone?
She reached out to touch it but quickly drew back again. With a sigh, she just breathed its name in a whisper. “The Reflections Crystal.”
“Knowing you,” Arxad continued, “you probably want to learn how it works, but we do not know. Magnar brought it to us long ago without much explanation. He merely said it had magical properties and that I should experiment with it. Because our prophecies are filled with sayings about the black egg and similar objects of ovular or spherical shapes, my curiosity was piqued. You see, nearly every object like this, including the black egg itself, has the ability to provide a view beyond the physical realm. Of course, I discovered quickly that this was not an egg, and I learned of its prowess in collecting light images and projecting its input in an orderly way. It has many beneficial properties…” He averted his gaze from the crystal. “Among other things.”
“So it’s the smartest sky scope on Starlight.” Koren reached for the sphere again, but Arxad grasped her wrist and pulled her back.
“Wait. Before you touch it, I want to prepare you for the test.”
“To see if I am a Starlighter?”
Arxad’s voice turned somber. “Good. I am glad you remember.” He held up a claw. “Stay here while I move out of the way. I will tell you what to do in a moment.”
As he slid into the shadows, a knot formed in Koren’s stomach. Even though the test hadn’t left her mind, the thrill of the dragon ride and a host of new discoveries had pushed aside the gravity of the situation. Whatever this test was, if she failed, she would be terminated, and if she passed, she would be in Zena’s service, whatever that meant. No matter what, her Assignment with Arxad would be over, the best Assignment she had ever had.
“Please place both palms on the sphere.” Arxad’s voice penetrated the darkness, as did his scarlet eyes. It seemed that the shadow itself had spoken, dark and mysterious in its tone.
She obeyed. The second her skin came into contact with the glassy surface, her whole body tingled. She gasped, though there seemed to be no reason for the sudden surge of emotion and the need for a drink of air. She exhaled and quickly drew in another gulp. “What…” She swallowed through a lump. “What’s happening?”
“Settle your mind.” Arxad’s voice seemed to come from a distant room, quiet, yet echoing. “And your breathing.”
As she inhaled slowly, the shadows around her melted away, and the floor disappeared. She floated in the midst of the sky, weightless, free from all burdens of body and mind.
“Now, Koren, probe deeply into the heavens and tell me what you see.”
She cocked her head. That voice. So quiet. So far away. Who was it? Someone familiar.
“Tell me with your heart, Starlighter. Relate the tale as only you can tell it.”
As the voice faded, the blackness around her altered to a detailed skyscape filled with millions of stars interspersed with darker objects, and the crystal, sparkling white, pulled her up into the sky. The objects floated past her until one of the shadowy forms came into focus. Somehow, its name flowed into her mind and through her lips. “Darksphere.”
Like a flood, dozens of images flew through her thoughts, but, just as the crystal had collected and projected its massive array of input, the images straightened and marched past her mind’s eye in order. Words flowed, and the images combined into a single animated scene, as if commanded by each phrase she spoke.
“Darksphere,” she said in a deep, rumbling voice, “I have found you at last. You are a planet of knights and knaves, so I must avoid the courageous hearts in your midst and deal with the fools, for they will be easy to overcome and allow me to take what I need. When they see my mighty wings and fiery breath, they will cower like frightened curs and give me even their own sons and daughters, for such is the heart of the timid.”
The crystal, still in Koren’s grip, turned smoky gray, as if contradicting her boast.
Suddenly, the dark planet brightened until it became as dazzling as one of the stars. The scene abruptly changed. She stood in front of ten humans, five men and five women, each about the same age, perhaps their early twenties. Bearing torches and wearing chains around their wrists and ankles, their eyes sparkled in the firelight. Tears streamed down the cheeks of men and women alike as they hunched in fear near the bank of a rapidly flowing river. One man, however, stood tall, his shoulders back and his jaw firm. Instead of a torch, he clutched a book in his hand.
Koren related each detail, even the words the man said as he spoke boldly. “No matter how distant your world, I swear to you that I will escape and return here. We have courageous men, and we will mount an army you cannot withstand. We will not rest until every soul you have stolen returns to its homeland.”
Now the crystal turned clear and sparkling again, casting a glow over the speaker.
Koren laughed and replied with a deep, throaty voice. “Uriel, you are a fool. No one in Darksphere knows of the portal, and I will be back to take more of your kind, for we need many to dig deep in search of pheterone.”
Again the crystal darkened in her grip, turning almost black.
“You are the fool!” Uriel shouted. “When I return, I will lock this portal so that no one can pass through from either side, and I will not unlock it until our army is ready to invade and destroy you slavers.”
“You overestimate your comrades,” Koren said. “I have half a mind to release you to prove your error. You are one of the few who care for more than his own bread and porridge. Your fellows would not believe you, and even if one could be persuaded, he would be frightened, unwilling to risk being thought of as insane. Even if you escape, no one will join your army. No one.”
She waved her arm, but, instead of her skin, a dragon wing passed in front of her eyes. “Enough of this prattle. Move to the wall.”
The men and women shuffled toward a bare wall, their chains clanking with every slide of a foot.
“Keep walking!” Koren touched a dark ovular window embedded in the stone barrier. Instead of a hand and fingers, a scaly dragon’s claw covered the glass. A light appeared behind the claw, first yellow, then red, and finally blue. It pulsed, brighter and brighter, spreading out and flooding the area with radiance. The blue brilliance washed away the walls, the river, and the prisoners as they marched past the former barrier. After a few seconds, the light faded.
Koren pulled back and looked at the humans. “Now halt.”
Most crouched and covered their faces with their hands, but Uriel stood tall, his stare riveted on Koren.
“You are now on Starlight,” Koren said, “and here you will stay. If you work for us, we will treat you well. In order to provide us with more labor, you will populate our world as quickly as possible. If you fail to obey, we will kill you and return to your world to capture others.”
Again the crystal turned gray.
She scanned the group, reading the teary eyes and trembling bodies, save, of course, for Uriel. His fiery stare never faded. “This one is strong,” she said, though her voice seemed more of a thought than a spoken statement. “We will break him soon enough.”
On the floor, a row of crystalline pegs made a line from one side wall to the other. She plucked the middle peg, and the river disappeared. With a wave of a wing,
she turned and pointed at an upward sloping tunnel where light poured in. “Come. You will no longer need your torches.”
As the prisoners marched toward the exit, Uriel trailed them, now fixing his stare on Koren. Defiant and fearless, he said not a word, though his fiery eyes communicated volumes. He would escape…somehow. And he would return with his army.
A voice penetrated her mind. “It is time to end your voyage.”
Suddenly, the people shrank. She floated backwards, away from the planet, which dimmed as she drew into space, again among the stars. Like a spinning top, the stars whirled around her head. She grew dizzy, oh, so dizzy. She staggered to the side until something caught her and propped her up.
“Koren, you must gather your wits. It is imperative that we fly immediately. If you are found out, I can no longer protect you.”
In the midst of the swirling lights, a dragon’s face orbited with them. She murmured, “Found out?”
“You are a Starlighter, and you are far more powerful than the one Magnar executed.”
“How…” She licked her dry lips. Her throat felt parched. “How do you know?”
“You made Darksphere brighten and come to life. The previous Starlighter did the same, but she revealed the humans’ origins with only a little detail.”
“You mean, you knew we came from Darksphere?”
“Of course I knew, but the tale you told differs greatly from Magnar’s version.”
With the spin slowing, she pulled away from his grasp. “How so?”
“He claimed to have rescued a few survivors from a dying planet. According to him, his was a noble gesture, and we have cared for you all these years in exchange for your labors.” Arxad’s brow wrinkled. “Magnar’s definition of caring for humans, however, is not universal.”
She concentrated on his face, trying to make it stop in the center of her vision. “Do you believe him?”
“I believed his story about rescuing survivors.” His eyes seemed to erupt in flames. “Until now.”