Warrior

“Your memory of human courage is defective. Being around those who are emasculated by slavery has caused you to forget the passion of a father or husband who learns about enslaved women and children. Trust me. The men will come, especially if I persuade them with a few illustrations of cruelty upon their citizenry.”

  Arxad flared his nostrils. “Do you intend to bully everyone into cooperation?”

  “If necessary, but I do not know how powerful they have become, so I might have to return for Cassabrie. Her body, even without her spirit, will be sufficient to bring the humans to their knees.”

  Arxad thumped his tail on the ground. “We vowed to use her only if the prince proved to be a force of destruction.”

  “I made a vow not to use her unless necessary. I will be the judge of what constitutes necessary.”

  “And you complain about my vows, you hypocrite!”

  Billows of smoke rose from Magnar’s nostrils. “Beware, Arxad. I will not tolerate insults.”

  “How else can I dredge the truth from you? You hide your intent. You conceal prophecies. You share what you know only when you find it convenient.”

  The smoke thinned, revealing sadness on Magnar’s face. “I have protected you from many truths, brother. Perhaps, however, I should tell you one that will confirm my plan to conquer Taushin with whatever force is necessary.”

  Arxad released the peg. “Speak. I will not proceed until I hear it.”

  “Very well.” Magnar took in a deep breath. “When Taushin resurrects Exodus, he plans not to seal the breach.”

  “What? Then how will it rise?”

  “How is not important. Just understand that he is capable. We must go to Darksphere and mount an army to stop him.”

  “But he might accomplish this while we are gone. We must conquer him now. We will use Cassabrie and—”

  “We cannot. He already has Koren. A dead Starlighter will not defeat a living one.”

  “Another lie? You said—”

  “I said, ‘If he captures her.’ It was a hypothetical, not a lie.”

  Arxad blew out his own columns of smoke. “I am tired of your prevaricating. You have deceived me for the last time.”

  “Is that so? What do you plan to do, O mighty Arxad? Fight Taushin and Koren yourself?”

  “I will retrieve Cassabrie and reunite her spirit with her body. I must. There has to be a way.”

  “Do not be a fool! You have tried for years. What will change now?”

  “Perhaps you will not be here to stop me.” Arxad pulled the peg out and stepped back. Magnar swiped at him with a wing, curled the tip around the peg, and slung it into the Darksphere chamber. Both dragons lunged for it. Just before it could slide into the river, Magnar stopped the crystal with a wing and held it in place.

  The room’s light faded. The river’s rush grew louder as it bounced from wall to wall. Dim radiance from an unseen source provided enough light to see that the portal was now solid rock.

  “You fool!” Magnar bellowed as he rose to his haunches. “Look what you have done!”

  “What I have done?” Arxad righted himself. A rocky ceiling kept him from rising to his full height. A few stalactites hung at eye level, dripping water. “You caused this, with your rash actions and your plots. But, by all means, if you wish to deliver your usual harsh discipline, then so be it.”

  “Your dramatic posturing nauseates me. We have a crucial duty to fulfill. When that is complete, then I will decide what to do with you.”

  Arxad took several deep breaths, and with each exhale a plume of smoke rose from his nostrils to the ceiling. “Very well, but how did you leave this place when you last came? I see no exit.”

  “Strange,” Magnar said as he looked up. “This chamber was not enclosed before. There was a hole big enough to fly through.”

  “We had better go back.” Arxad swung around and blew a thin stream of fire to the side, illuminating the portal wall. While he kept the fire going, sporadically at times as he inhaled between bursts, Magnar scraped a claw along the wall. Soon the scratch of rock turned to the squeal of glass as he rubbed across something smooth.

  “It is a window that allows a view to our world,” Magnar said as he splayed his claws over it. “It will soon light up and open the portal.”

  Arxad continued breathing fire. The river roared on, but not loud enough to drown out his brother’s growls.

  “It is not responding,” Magnar said. “It should have brightened long before now.”

  Arxad stopped his fiery jet. “Is there nothing the crystal can do from this side?” he asked, breathing heavily.

  “Without holes, of course not.” Magnar displayed the peg. “The treasure I have searched for all these years is now useless.”

  “Then our only escape is the river. Do you know where it leads?”

  “I never bothered with learning the river’s course. There was no need.”

  “Then that is not a solution. We could drown before we find an exit.” Arxad scanned the room. “The light here is odd. Have you detected a source?”

  “I believe the stones themselves contain a glowing agent. I don’t see a path to daylight.”

  Arxad blew another jet of flames upward, giving light to the ceiling just inches above their heads. “If this barrier is new, then perhaps it is not thick.”

  “The dripping stalactites indicate otherwise.”

  “Only in our region. Consistent rain through limestone can create these formations quickly. We had such formations in tunnels before the rains departed.”

  “I remember,” Magnar said, nodding. “How do you suggest that we punch a hole?”

  “A combination of fire blasting and ramming, unless you have another plan.”

  “I do not.” Magnar shot a torrent of flames at the ceiling. As the jets continued, the rocks glowed red, and the dripping water sizzled. A few pebbles broke away, but the barrier stayed intact.

  After the fire eased, Magnar lowered his head, beat his wings, and leaped. His back struck the ceiling, shaking the chamber. When he landed again, causing another shake, a stalactite fell, and pebbles rained down.

  Both dragons looked up. A slight dent marred the ceiling. “Progress,” Arxad said, “but who can tell how far we have to go?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. I suppose it does not.” Arxad lowered his head and spread out his wings. “I will try now. If it takes a hundred blows, at least we have water to quench our thirst.”

  “When we leave this chamber,” Magnar said with a probing tone, “we will eventually have to return to Starlight. There is the Northlands portal.”

  Arxad glared at him. “You cannot use that portal. You would come out beyond the barrier wall and break the curse. Need I remind you—”

  “No, you do not. Your fear of the Bloodless is a phobia that defies reason. We defeated them before; we can defeat them again.”

  Arxad returned his gaze to the ceiling. It made no sense to argue a point they had already debated a hundred times before. “We will discuss this later. For now, we should focus our energy on this physical prison and revisit your invisible barrier when we have to face it.”

  eleven

  Koren stood in front of the firewood remains. The flames of the Basilica’s legendary fire had dwindled to sparks, making it seem as though all of Starlight had lost its heart. Dark prophecies rushed to fulfillment, bringing an end to light and life. These were the blackest of days.

  She touched the pedestal where the book had lain. For hours she had struggled to find some element of the mysterious history Taushin sought. Yet she had succeeded only in resurrecting mundane Assignment meetings, one slave after another parading in and out of the theater, each one staggering under the influence of the stupor-inducing drug. Again and again she had wept with the forlorn slaves and winced with each crack of the whip as it slapped across their backs.

  The emotional turmoil had worn her out, but she forced herself on. One more time. One more trial before
Taushin returned might provide the clue she could use. Raising her hands, she called out, “Come to me, voices of the past, words recorded in the book. Show me the secrets I long for.” A new thought spilled out of her lips even as it came to mind. “This time I ask the Creator of All to guide the secrets my way, perhaps even mysteries no one dared to record.”

  Arxad and Magnar appeared in front of her, nearly as solid and lifelike as their real forms. Holding an open metal box, Arxad spoke in a whisper. “These are stardrops. The energy they release gives a Starlighter her power.”

  Her legs trembling as she kept her hands lifted, Koren drew close and looked into the box. At least ten radiant white spheres sat within.

  “Cassabrie collected these from Exodus,” Arxad continued, “hoping to discover a way to resurrect it. Speaking tales from the outside did not work, but now it is too late to try my theory. Still, I was surprised to learn that material could be gathered from the star’s outer membrane. It might be possible to use this information for other purposes.”

  Just as Magnar opened his mouth to reply, a familiar set of blue eyes appeared at the doorway. Koren waved her hand out of range of her vision, just in case he could see through her eyes, and sent the image into oblivion. “Taushin,” she said as warmly as she could. “I have made a lot of progress.”

  Flapping his wings, he scooted toward her, apparently following her voice. “Yes, I know. I heard Magnar and Arxad from the doorway. Why did you not allow them to continue?”

  Koren flinched. “I wasn’t sure if it was important. When I saw you, I guess I got excited.”

  “No matter. I heard enough. This is exactly the information I required, and now I will be able to accomplish my goal. Dragons will live without fear of extinction, and I will set every human slave free.”

  “I don’t understand. What is Exodus? And what did Arxad mean by resurrecting it?”

  “Exodus is a star that hibernates in the Northlands, and I will awaken it from slumber.”

  Koren imagined a huge ball of fire rising from a polar cap, melting the snow and ice as it lifted into the air. “If Arxad and Magnar haven’t been able to do it, how will you?”

  “They are not the ones the Creator has chosen. Only you and I together are able to accomplish this. We will be a symbiosis—human and dragon as one. If you help me, I will help you. If you allow me to see through your eyes and give me your allegiance, I will liberate your people. Together, no one can stop us.”

  Koren slid back a step. Symbiosis. The word sounded like a death knell, a prison sentence that would never end. Since she was supposed to be his eyes, wouldn’t he need her for the rest of her life?

  An image of herself—gray, bent, and wrinkled—appeared in her mind, the only living human remaining on Starlight, led by a leash, the other end clutched by an adult dragon. She shuddered hard. The chains she wore while speaking to Taushin through the egg’s black shell no longer chafed only her wrists; they clamped around her mind and scraped her soul.

  Taushin extended his neck, closing the gap between them. “Are you ready to make the final connection? When it is complete, we will be able to accomplish what no one else could.”

  Koren slid her foot back again but kept her body in place. What choice did she have? Run and hide? Where? And if she did, what would become of the chance of freedom for all the other slaves? If Taushin’s words began proving false, could she stop serving him then? Or might the connection be unbreakable?

  “You are hesitating,” Taushin said. “Is it not your desire to set your fellow humans free?”

  “Yes, but …” She didn’t know how to finish.

  “To demonstrate my good will, I will allow you to select one slave to be with you. Adult or child, male or female, that slave will be yours to direct in whatever way you wish.”

  “Petra.” The name flew out before she could stop to think. The mute girl’s face came to mind, sad and lonely. It was a good choice. Petra deserved to have an easier life. Koren took a deep breath and repeated the name with more conviction. “Petra. She is a girl who serves Arxad with Madam Orley.”

  “Very well.” He aimed his head toward the railing that overlooked the theater. “Zena, bring Petra to us at once.”

  “I will, my prince.”

  Koren looked up and caught sight of Zena’s distinctive black dress as she hurried away.

  “And now …” His voice softened to a seductive purr. “Lower your hood and expose your face.”

  A sudden burst of fear broke through. This was wrong. It was all so wrong. Trembling, Koren backed away. “No … No, I can’t.”

  “Do not sour my good will, Starlighter. We will soon have Petra, and I know you would not want anything unfortunate to happen to her.”

  “Unfortunate?” Straining every muscle in her face, she spat out, “You monster!”

  “No, Koren,” he said in a calm, smooth voice. “I am not a monster. I am merely forcing my will upon you. Your obedience is for the good of all, and Petra is the first beneficiary.”

  Koren’s cheeks burned. What could she do? She had to either submit or risk harm coming to Petra.

  Taushin’s eyes shone brighter than ever, and his tone firmed. “Now, Koren … Is your hood up?”

  Her throat constricted so tightly her voice squeaked. “Yes.”

  “Then lower it.”

  Shaking, she pinched the trim near her ear and pushed the hood back. As the material cascaded down her hair, it felt like she had stripped away a shell of protection.

  His beams again poured into her eyes. “Just as you lowered your hood, now you must lower your defenses. Allow my mind to enter yours, but not just on the surface. I must be at the center, for only then may I fully use your eyes and cognitive abilities. Until now I have seen only bare images, glimpses of light and the glory of this miracle you call vision. I was meant to be born blind, but only so that I can show the Creator’s power through you, a humble girl who willingly serves me so that her loved ones can find freedom.”

  Koren blinked, but only once. The dragon’s push was so soft and gentle, her eyes had already grown accustomed to the light. But should she continue to allow it? Was he really telling the truth? Setting her people free was the ultimate goal, the only goal, so it made sense to sacrifice whatever was necessary to bring it about. If she didn’t give in, she would never know what might have happened. No one else could be the sacrifice. She, a Starlighter, had to do it. Her sacrifice was their only hope.

  Taushin exhaled, sending a warm caress across her cheek. The breeze seemed to penetrate and enter her mind. A strange feeling crawled into her senses—an emotional cage, bars made of mental iron encircling her thoughts, a prison of the soul.

  A competing sensation grew in response. Starting as an inkling of attraction, more of a mood than a conscious thought, the feeling grew into fervor. She wanted something. But what? Not food. Not comfort. Not companionship. Something deeper, stronger. Something that suddenly seemed impossible to live without.

  Her chest tightened, allowing her to take in only the shallowest of breaths. Tears streamed. It seemed that flames licked her body. Battling the crazed obsession, she focused on Taushin’s face and spoke through gritting teeth. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Giving you what you need. Fear not. The embracing force that envelops you is holy.”

  Koren swallowed. This yearning to be set free from his grasp seemed as horrible as the embrace itself. It was wild, bestial, like an animal lunging at the bars of its cage. She tried to slide her feet back, but they wouldn’t budge. She had to run, hide, get away from this violation of her senses as well as the unquenchable craving to escape.

  As his voice continued to croon, his scaly head swayed, though his eyebeams never shifted. “Tell me a tale, Starlighter. What do you see?”

  She licked her parched lips. “A tale? I have no tale.”

  “Look around. You will see.”

  Koren turned her head to the left. The logs erupted into a trem
bling column of flames, and a human female took shape in its midst. As the image sharpened, her identity became clear. With striking red hair and piercing green eyes, Koren’s likeness appeared more sharply than it ever had in the reflection pond near her home.

  As the replica stood in the flames, her eyes morphed from green to blue. Manacles clamped around her wrists, and chains weighed down her arms. Wearing a contented smile, the girl lifted her arms, dragging the chains higher, as if showing her pleasure at being bound.

  “She’s …” Koren swallowed a lump. “She’s happy.”

  “Of course. Did I not tell you that chains are necessary for love to be born? For the hatred in your heart had to be removed.”

  She forced out her words. “But I don’t love you. I won’t love you.”

  “You don’t love me, to be sure. But you will. The chains you see in the flames are the ones you will wear—invisible but every bit as real. You are now mine, and you could not leave me if you tried. You would always come back … always. And when you learn to love me, the chains will become self-imposed, for you will not ever want to leave.”

  Koren stared at the poor girl. Her smile made her look like a fool, a prisoner who felt no chains. Showing them to her would do no good. Her ignorant bliss had blinded her to the reality of her slavery.

  As she looked down, her real chains fell away and clanked to the floor. She rubbed her wrists—bare skin, still wearing the marks of the manacles. The bleeding and pain had ceased, but the shame of imprisonment remained.

  Giving in to the dragon had exposed her. She was vulnerable, unable to defend herself against his penetrating presence. And now, chained to his will, the sensation set her conscience aflame. This was the burning desire, to be set free from his crushing embrace, to escape the shame of allowing herself to be overpowered.

  She was again in chains, a prison of her own choosing — shame, utter shame. As the girl in the flames continued holding her chains aloft, the real Koren thrust her arms outward. Break free, you fool! The chains aren’t real! As if her actions would help the imagined girl, Koren shifted her body in an attempt to move her own legs. Run from this place! Escape this monster!