Her smile wavering, she kept her gaze on the pendant. “What happened to Koren?”
“Exchange stories later,” Edison said. “I detect another odor. This one isn’t human.”
Jason pulled away from Elyssa and moved to his father’s side. A new rustling disturbed the silence, maybe fifty paces away. This creature didn’t seem to care to hide its presence.
Elyssa touched Jason’s back and whispered into his ear. “It’s intelligent. It’s searching for something. I sense determination … and malice.”
Drawing his sword, Jason waved for Elyssa to move back. She stayed put, withdrawing her own sword. Now all three stood in the dark with weapons brandished, Edison a step or two in front. The rustling grew closer and closer. Thirty paces. Twenty paces. A snuffling sound blended in, then a growl.
Barely visible in the moonlight, Edison glanced between Elyssa and the source of the noise. He raised a hand and whispered sternly, “Son, stay here with Elyssa. That’s an order.” Then, starting with a quick leap, he hustled toward the creature.
“No!” Jason took a hard step but halted. Father gave an order. How could he disobey?
A draconic scream erupted from the darkness. Elyssa charged. Jason leaped to catch her but missed. He dashed after her, following the sounds—crunching footfalls, splintering wood, and horrific squeals and growls. He stopped at a gap in the forest. Elyssa stood there, her sword drooping at her side as she looked up at the sky. Pariah shone through, giving light to the battlefield. With broken branches strewn about, a second sword lay at her feet.
Her body quaking, Elyssa’s quiet voice shook. “A dragon took him.”
“Took him?” Jason picked up the sword, Father’s sword, wet with blood. His head swimming, he scanned the sky. A dragon flew across the purple canopy carrying a limp body in its claws. Pain stabbed Jason’s gut. Bile rose in his throat, bitter and burning, and a bare whisper leaked out. “Father!”
“Oh, Jason!” Elyssa dropped her sword and embraced him. “I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t come, your father wouldn’t have tried to face the dragon alone.”
Jason blinked. His arms felt like stiff logs. He couldn’t lift them even to return the embrace. A tragedy. As his mind threatened to become numb as well, one of his father’s teachings broke though. Allow for grief, but a warrior must not give in to despair.
He pushed her back. “We have to follow that dragon.”
“We can’t possibly keep up with a flying —”
“We have to try.” Jason shoved his sword back into its sheath. “Let’s go. Stay as close behind me as you can.”
He jogged through the forest, ducking under branches that seemed to reach out just as he approached. Twice he stumbled over tree roots before regaining his balance. Elyssa kept pace without a mishap, taking advantage of his trail blazing or maybe her Diviner’s gift. He glanced at the sky as often as he dared. The dragon shrank in the distance and finally dropped out of view.
“He’s going to the dragon village,” Elyssa said from behind.
Jason kept his focus straight ahead, speaking in short bursts as he marched on. “I see that … I was there a few hours ago … The place was deserted.”
After several minutes, he stepped into the open. To his right, the ground sloped upward into a range of mountains. To his left, a plateau stretched out for miles, leading north to the dragon village. A few lights glimmered in that direction, probably lanterns. Maybe dragons and humans had returned to the streets.
Elyssa joined him, taking in deep breaths. “It’s a long way.”
“I know. Father and I just crossed this area.” Jason took in a deep breath of his own and let it out slowly. Every muscle ached. It seemed that energy drained from his body and spilled into the ground, as if stopping had caused his determination to spring a leak. Everything he carried seemed to double its weight — his sword, his scabbard, even the pouch in which he transported the stardrop, still attached to his belt.
He touched the dangling pouch with a finger. He and his father had come to find Elyssa. Job number one was complete. Now he had to get the stardrop to Koren. For some reason, she needed to swallow it. At least that’s what Petra had indicated before he and his father had left Alaph’s castle. Yet now with his father in danger, how could he go on with job number two?
“You must be exhausted,” Elyssa said. “I know I am.”
“I have to go!” Jason bit his lip. That came out far too harshly. Taking another breath, he reached his hand toward hers and softened his tone. “If you can come, that would be great. Your gifts would be helpful. If not, I think you’ll be safe hiding in the forest. But no matter what you decide, I have to go. You understand that, right?”
“Of course I do.” She took his hand. “And I am coming with you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight again. It was hard enough finding you this time.”
He looked into her eyes, more visible now that they stood in the open. They were tired but determined. With her sword again in hand, her body straight, and her legs firmly set, she was the portrait of the ready warrior.
Giving her a smile, he nodded. “I was hoping you’d come,” was all he could manage. He turned and marched toward the distant lanterns. With so little light to guide their way, and with his leg muscles threatening to lock in spasms, he had to keep a slower pace than his passion demanded. Father was out there, probably badly wounded, maybe dead. Getting to him as quickly as possible was all that mattered.
Standing in the cave’s kitchen area, Constance turned the mill’s arm-length handle one last time. There. The final bone had gone through. That was one hard job finished, one of many chores Koren used to do. When she and the other two girls were around to help, getting to bed at a reasonable hour was commonplace, but not tonight. The list of things to do would last well past midnight.
Bracing one hand on the kitchen’s central oak table, she mopped her brow with the fringe of her apron. It took a lot of strength to grind sheep bones, but Arxad always insisted on wasting nothing. Of course, he and his family crunched the larger bones with their powerful jaws, but the lower legs often splintered, and thus were saved for grinding. According to Arxad, the powder made an excellent flavoring for his morning brew of cactus tea.
She pulled the catch bin from the bottom of the grinder, using both hands to slide the wooden bowl to the edge of the table. With light from a wall lantern flickering behind her, her head cast a shadow over the bowl, making it difficult to tell how finely the mill had ground the bones. She could always use a sifter to —
“Hello? Madam Orley? Are you in there?”
Constance wiped her hands on her apron. “Yeager? Is that you?”
“Yes, Madam. May I come in?”
“You may. Do you have your … uh … valuables with you?”
“Of course.” Yeager, a tall man with a muscular build, dark curly hair, and at least a three-day’s beard, ambled into the lantern light, holding a chain that led into the darkness behind him. “And they are valuable, indeed. I heard you need help, so I brought what little I have available.”
He stopped and rattled the chain. A boy wearing a leather collar limped into the light, using a walking stick to compensate for a missing lower leg. Another boy followed, his collar linked to the other boy’s by the chain. He held a withered forearm close to his waist. Finally, a girl joined them. The chain ended at a hook attached to her collar.
Constance stepped out of the lantern’s way. The flickering light danced on the boys’ clean bare chests and illuminated their glassy eyes. Standing no taller than her own five feet and two inches and wearing only short trousers, they appeared to be about twelve years old. The girl was slightly taller, but her sunken cheeks and eyes spoke of severe malnutrition. If not for her clean tunic and skirt, anyone would have thought her to be a cattle child.
“Where did you get them?” Constance asked. “The cattle camp is empty.”
“I took these and a few others from the camp be
fore the escape. I cleaned them up a bit. Gave the girl some clothes.”
“But we’re in lockdown. Why are you trading at all?”
“I asked the Separators for an exception. I can’t afford to feed my inventory, so they said I could sell them to whoever would take them. Actually, it was easy to place them. When there is short supply, there are willing buyers.”
Constance pointed at the closer boy. “But you had no buyers for these.”
His eyes shifted, blinking, then a confident smile emerged. “I saved them for you. I heard that Koren, Natalla, and Petra are all missing, so I guessed you would need at least one new servant.”
“This is true. I suppose everyone knows about that by now.” She studied the eyes of each child in turn, all glazed and faraway. Yeager had obviously drugged them. “What are their names?”
Yeager stared at her for a moment, then coughed. “Well, as you can imagine, I don’t ask them their names. A man in my line of work can’t afford to get emotionally attached.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” Constance glared at him. If greed could walk and talk, his name would be Yeager. “The reality is that you brought these three because you couldn’t place them anywhere else.”
“Nonsense. As I said, I saved them for—”
“Do you think me a fool?” She touched the first boy’s shoulder. “They’re handicapped. They need to work with the accountant or with the nursery maid.”
“Those positions have been filled.” He nodded toward the kitchen table. “I understand your dilemma. With household labors you need boys with strong arms and legs.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to care for these boys, it’s just that there is hard work —”
“Say no more. I said I understand.” Yeager touched the girl’s head. “This one is not handicapped. She is malnourished, to be sure, but that is easily remedied. Everyone knows Arxad feeds his servants well.”
Constance took off her apron and folded it, keeping her eyes on her hands. “I would gladly take her, but Arxad is not here. Nor is Fellina. I cannot get authorization.”
“When will they return?”
“Neither gave me word.” She laid the apron on the table and smoothed it with both hands. “Arxad has been known to leave for days or even weeks. When he is gone, Fellina sometimes leaves for quite a while as well. They trust me to keep their home in order.”
“Then surely they would trust you to acquire new help.”
“You know as well as I do that only a dragon can approve a placement. Even Arxad would get angry over such a breach in protocol.”
Yeager stroked his chin. “The Separators said I have to place them today. Since the girl is obviously too malnourished, the breeders didn’t want her. You know what will happen to them tomorrow.”
Constance glanced at the grinding mill on the table, then lowered her head, unable to look the girl in the eyes.
“Yes, I know.”
“Then take her,” Yeager said. “Hide her. Feed her. Have some compassion.”
“Compassion? How dare you speak to me about compassion!” Constance aimed a shaking finger at him, her voice rising. “You’re the one who drags these poor children from place to place, drugging them out of their minds and auctioning them off like property.”
“They are property. Every cattle child belongs to Magnar, or rather Taushin, I suppose. I get to keep the bare scrapings of the purchase price, and the rest goes to whoever sits his scaly backside on the Basilica throne.” He pointed a finger of his own. “You are property, too. Arxad’s property. Even though you wear no chain or collar, you are every bit as shackled as these children are. You just refuse to admit it. You were born a slave, and you will die a slave.”
She lowered her finger and cooled her tone. “I know. I have said the same myself, but I am beginning to doubt it.”
“What is there to doubt? Do you doubt the cattle camp? The barrier wall?”
Constance shook her head. “Those are undeniable. I doubt only that I came from my mother’s womb in chains. Slaves are made, not born. Dragons keep me here against my will. The barrier wall is proof enough that every one of us would run to freedom if not for the wall and the guardians who patrol it. If I had wings, I would fly to the Northlands and be with my daughter.”
Yeager laughed. “Do you still believe that story? There is no king of the Northlands. Promoted slaves are eaten by Magnar and his closest friends.”
“You are the one who believes the myths.” She reached into her tunic pocket and withdrew a folded parchment. “My daughter wrote to me from the Northlands. I recognize her handwriting.”
Closing his eyes, Yeager took in a deep breath. Then, leaning close, he whispered, “I risk my life in telling you this, but I do so for the sake of this little girl and for pity’s sake, pity for your loss of a husband and a daughter within the span of three years.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I have witnessed part of a Promotion myself. Do you remember when the dragons extended the barrier wall on the western boundary?”
“I remember. They had men chiseling stone night and day.”
Yeager nodded. “During those months, I worked with the stone movers. When that Assignment ended, the Separators were trying to decide whether or not to return me to slave trading. I was in the Basilica — drugged, of course—but they didn’t give me enough, so it wore off early. Arxad brought your daughter in to Magnar. He said, ‘I chose this one for promotion from my own household. She is proficient in medicine.’ Then Magnar said, ‘Are you certain her medical background is your primary motivation?’
“Arxad put on a show of surprise, but even I could see through it. He said, ‘What other reason would I have?’ So Magnar gave him a scowl and said, ‘A pretext to obtain the redhead from the cattle camp. You should forget her. It would be better for us all if she dies there.’ After they argued for a while, Magnar finally gave in.”
Constance felt her mouth drop open. With her throat tightening, she couldn’t utter a word. Koren had replaced her daughter in Arxad’s household. Everyone knew that. But who could have guessed that Arxad had planned the exchange all along?
“Then,” Yeager continued, “Magnar asked if Arxad had completed the preparations.” He tapped a finger on the parchment in Constance’s hand. “That’s when Arxad showed him this very letter.”
She rattled the parchment at him. “I don’t believe a word of it! How could you know it’s the same letter?”
“Because Arxad read the first part out loud, and they both got a good laugh out of it. Then Magnar led her away. I assume he intended to eat her, because he said something about preparing a banquet.”
Constance shook her head hard. “Arxad would never laugh at our pain. He is good to us. Everyone knows that.”
Yeager snatched the parchment from her hand and, leaving it folded, set it close to her eyes. “Do you need to open it to see what it says? I don’t.” He looked in the opposite direction. “Dear Mother, I am happy in the Northlands with the great dragon king. Arxad told me I would learn more about medicine here, so I am looking forward to that. Papa will be proud of me when—”
“Stop!” Constance grabbed the letter and spun away. As she pressed it against her lips, spasms rocked her body. “Leave now. Just leave.”
“And what of the girl? I’ll give her to you at no charge. You can’t let her go to the stone.”
Staying turned, Constance glanced over her shoulder at the girl. With hair cut into four different lengths and her face so sunken her eyes seemed ready to roll out of their sockets, she was truly a pitiful sight. Could she hide the girl here without getting permission, at least for a few nights? Fellina might return with Xenith at any moment, so getting food for the girl secretly might be impossible. And what of Arxad? He laughed with Magnar! Laughed about poor, sweet Agatha! And then … Constance bit her lip hard. And then Magnar ate her? Could that part really be true? Yeager didn’t see it happen, but if Agatha had really gone to the Northlands, why would Magnar have
taken her away? Shouldn’t Arxad have prepared her for the journey?
Constance hid her face and sobbed. Arxad wasn’t the kind master he pretended to be. He was just as heartless and cruel as all the others. She couldn’t hide this poor girl. No, she would be leaving this household herself. As soon as possible. But where would she go? The wilderness? Yes, the wilderness. Even though no one had ever returned from there, that didn’t mean they died. After all, since they were trying to escape, why would they return?
Taking in a deep breath, Constance wiped her eyes and turned back to Yeager. “I’m sorry, but I cannot take this girl in. I understand what will happen to her, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.”
“So be it.” Yeager shook the chain and walked toward the cave’s entrance. The three children followed, ignorant lambs being led to slaughter. As the shadows enveloped him, Yeager called back, “Just don’t preach to me again about being a slave trader, Madam Orley. You have just traded this girl to the mill for the sake of your loyalty to dragons, and some of those dragons ate your daughter.”
When Yeager’s voice faded to silence, Constance looked at Agatha’s letter again, opening it with shaking hands. With her back to the cave wall, she slid to her bottom and read the precious words for the thousandth time. Yeager had quoted them fairly well, closely enough to prove he had heard them spoken. Just this morning she had read the letter, and the sweet prose had been a blessing, an uplifting start to her day: Somewhere in the North, Agatha served the great king, perhaps as a doctor to the other promoted slaves …
But now?
Now Agatha’s dream had been shattered, along with her body and bones. The many months of hope had been a lie, a heartbreaking lie. The poor girl had been eaten by a vile monster, likely ripped to shreds and shared with other vile monsters.
Sobbing again, Constance clenched a fist. The beasts! The villains! Somehow she would find a way to get revenge. First, she had to escape, get help and weapons, but how?
She leaned her head against the wall and looked up at the dark ceiling. The cave’s boundaries never seemed so black before, so heavy, so crushing. Arxad and Fellina had always been kind, but now their kindness seemed a pretense, a way to get her to work harder, a mask to hide their real intent. Even if Arxad didn’t eat the slaves himself, he didn’t stop the barbaric practice. He didn’t speak up. His closed mouth was just as guilty as the open ones that had chewed Agatha’s body.