by Bryan Davis
“Did he refuse to tell you when you asked?”
Jason shook his head. “I didn’t ask.”
“Interesting.” Alaph blinked at Jason and cocked his head as if confused. “Since you did not tell me the other man’s identity, I will not tell you who this man is. Yet I think you will be able to guess if you ask other questions that still prick your mind.”
“You can read my mind?”
The dragon brought his head directly in front of Jason, close enough to send twin streams of cool air across his cheeks. “I do not read minds, but I know the primary reason you journeyed here. Once you admit this, you will have taken your first step toward the answer you seek.”
Jason stared at the strange dragon. His blue eyes and cool breath made him appear to be a member of a species other than that of the southern dragons, but his delaying tactics were just as annoying. “I came here to rescue the slaves and take them back to my planet.”
“I said primary. That is your secondary reason. If not for your primary purpose, you would not have come at all.”
“If you mean finding Adrian,” Jason said, “I didn’t even know he was here until after I arrived.”
“But you did not even believe this place existed at first. What changed your mind about coming here? You are not such a fool that you cannot discern your own purpose.”
Jason thought back to the critical event, the moment he identified Frederick in the Courier’s tube. Then and only then did he finally believe in the existence of this world, and seeing his brother planted the slave-rescuing obsession.
Sighing, Jason nodded. “I see what you mean. I came here to rescue my brother Frederick. That’s why Adrian came, too.”
“Ah! Good! Now tell me, whom else do you know who might be similarly motivated?”
“Well, my father, of course. He was so upset about losing Frederick he didn’t even want to say good-bye to Adrian when we left the commune. But he’s got a bad leg, so he could never …”
The words died on his lips. An image came to mind, his last encounter with his father, that afternoon he and Adrian left home. His father had said, “I wanted to tell you something,” but he never spoke it. Had he wanted to speak a message other than good-bye?
The dream Jason had in Koren’s presence returned, the visions of his father saying good-bye to his mother. A Starlighter-influenced dream?
“My father!” Jason pushed the dragon’s wing aside and leaped toward the bed, the twisted vines bending and cracking under his weight. After four long strides, he stopped at the bedside and quietly drank in the sight. His father, Edison Masters, lay there with his eyes closed. His chest moved up and down in a steady rhythm, but a gurgle accompanied his respirations. The suction bulb, an aspirator, lay near his neck. Deference’s fingers appeared as she rolled it back and forth nervously.
Jason laid his hand on his father’s forehead. It was hot, much too hot. “Father,” he whispered, “can you hear me?”
“He has been unresponsive for several hours,” the dragon said. “I fear that he will not survive long. Deference has tried every appropriate medicine at our disposal, but his condition has only deteriorated.”
“There has to be something we can do. Is there a hospital anywhere? I’ll carry him on my back if I have to.”
“Well, there is a cure that never fails, but its accessibility …”
“What is it? Where is it? I’ll get it no matter where it is!”
“I am afraid you have already deemed that impossible.”
“Impossible?” Jason stared at the hand of bark that hovered empty over his father’s dying body. “The stardrop.”
“Yes. Placing one there would surely cure him, but it is too great a task. In any case, his time is short. Even if one were to travel to a place where an appropriate container exists, he would be too late. In fact, I believe only moments remain.”
Edison’s chest stopped moving. As his mouth fell open, a spasm lifted his body. The gurgle altered to a choking rasp.
“He can’t breathe!” Jason shouted. “What do I do?”
Deference picked up the aspirator. “I will try to clear the airway!”
“I’ll get the stardrop!” Jason jumped away and ran. His foot broke the floor and plunged through, burying his leg in the vines up to his hip. Thrusting his body forward and clawing at the woody matrix, he jerked himself out and scrambled on all fours until he reached the hallway’s solid floor.
Cassabrie helped him to his feet. “Shall I join you?”
“Can I make a stardrop with my own hands?” he asked as he cast off the cloak.
“Yes. Just do what I did. But it will burn you more than it did me.”
“I don’t care.” He stripped off the sword and sprinted through the corridor, pumping his arms and legs. No time to give Cassabrie a reason. Wasting a single second could cost Father his life.
When he reached the open throne wall, he burst into the stream of whisperers and galloped down the stairs. Their voices entered his ears, but he shook them away, not allowing the words to pierce his mind.
Time seemed to stretch out. How long would it take to get to the bottom? His legs ached, churning so quickly he nearly slipped off the stairway a half-dozen times. Finally, the bottom came into sight, and he leaped over the last three steps. He dashed through the tunnel and slowed to a halt only inches in front of the brilliant star.
Gasping for breath, he dipped a cupped hand into its surface and withdrew the milky substance. It felt like fire. He clenched his teeth and marched back toward the stairs as he watched the radiance congeal. Every second brought more pain—burning, tearing, torturing pain. When it finally shaped into a ball, he broke into another run and raced up the stairs.
The stardrop scalded his flesh, forcing him to switch it to his other hand. As it began sizzling in the new hand, he blew on the wounded one. Smoke rose from a bloody raw hole in the center of his palm.
Jason cried out. The pain was horrible, the worst he had ever endured. But it didn’t matter. Only his father mattered. He would live. He had to live.
As he ran, he continued switching the stardrop from hand to hand, each time blowing on the empty one. The holes grew deeper, three or more in each palm, and the odor of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. He flexed his hand, hoping to get more air into the wound, but clotted and singed blood cracked and flaked off, allowing new blood to flow freely.
Above, only darkness met his eyes, and one step after another. No stopping. He couldn’t stop, no matter what. Again his legs ached. Cramps knotted his muscles. Sweat poured, dampening his tunic.
Finally, the open wall came into view. Letting out a scream, he bounded up the last steps, wheeled around the wall, and again sprinted through the corridor. In the distance, Cassabrie’s cloak flowed at the entryway to the next room. Her hands became visible as she called out, “I’ll take it the rest of the way!”
“I’ve got it!” Jason ran past her, but his first step into the room broke through the floor and buried his leg past his knee. He reached to drag himself out again, but he couldn’t open the stardrop hand, and when he wrapped his trembling fingers around a vine, new pain shot through his arm. His muscles cramped. He couldn’t move.
Cassabrie glided up to him, her hand open. “Give it to me, Jason! Hurry! I will save your father.”
“I’ll take it to him!” Jason extended his bloody hand. “Help me out!”
“Don’t be a fool!” Cassabrie shouted, her arm shaking. “Give it to me!”
Deference cried out, “He’s not breathing! I can’t clear the airway!”
“Okay! Okay!” Jason pinched the stardrop and set it gently on Cassabrie’s palm. “Hurry!”
While Cassabrie ran to the bed, Jason used both hands to pull himself out of the hole. As he climbed to his feet, he glanced at Alaph, who stood on the far side of the bed, sitting on his haunches as if casually watching a performance. Now treading lightly, Jason hurried to his father. Cassabrie stood on the mattre
ss, staring at the stardrop she had already placed in the tree’s hand.
The ball began to shrink, deteriorating as it had before. The sparks burned through the bark, making the hand glow. Soon the radiance collected at the bottom side of the hand and began to drizzle over Edison’s head. Like tiny snowflakes, the white crystals coated his face. As each one touched his skin, it erupted in colors—yellow, orange, red, purple, and blue—before turning white again.
Edison gasped. His body heaved. Then, after sucking in a deep breath, he settled into an even respiration, without a hint of a gurgle.
After climbing down from the bed, Cassabrie leaned over Edison and collected the crystals. She turned to Jason. “Show me your wounds.”
Jason held out his hands. Cassabrie spread the crystals over the bloody holes and pressed them together, palm to palm.
As he cringed at the ripping pain, smoke rose from the narrow gap between his palms. Radiance from within leaked out and spilled over his skin, adding to the light surrounding Cassabrie’s touch.
Slowly, the pain eased. When the smoke cleared, Cassabrie released the pressure. “Let’s see how they look.”
Jason spread out his hands. Although caked with dried blood, they looked fine, not a trace of a burn. He gave Cassabrie a smile. “Thank you. They feel perfect.”
As he brushed away the blood, he stepped up to the bed and looked at his father, still breathing easily, then at Deference’s hand petting his father’s arm. “How is he?”
“Let’s see if he’ll wake up.” Deference’s hand moved to Edison’s forehead and stroked it gently. “Mr. Masters. Edison Masters. It’s time to wake up.”
His eyes still closed, Edison sniffed deeply. “I detect a familiar scent. Dreams of my son have leaked into the air.”
“Father,” Jason said. “Open your eyes.”
Edison’s lids snapped open. “Jason? Son, is that really you?”
Jason clutched his father’s hand. His smile tightened his face so much, he could barely talk. “Yes … yes, I’m here.”
His father sat up and looked around the room. “We’re in the dragon world. Not at home. This is the same castle, the white dragon’s castle, where the dragon brought me after I fell into the river. All the legends were true, and I wasn’t dreaming.”
A nervous laugh heaved from Jason’s chest. “They’re all true.”
“Why are you here? You’re supposed to be Prescott’s bodyguard.”
“It’s a long story, a story I can tell you while we’re marching back to the dragon village. We have to rescue the slaves, so we’d better get going.”
“Yes, of course.” Edison threw off his sheet, revealing a cotton nightshirt that reached only to his knees. “It seems that my caretakers have also taken my clothes.”
“They have been laundered,” Deference said. “I will make sure they are ready for your journey.” She backed away and ran toward the main corridor.
Alaph extended his neck, bringing his head close to Edison. “Your journey will end in failure if your son accompanies you.” The dragon’s blue eyes flamed as he spoke. “You are quite healthy now, so you will do better alone. Jason has proven that he is not prepared.”
“Not prepared?” Jason said. “I got the stardrop, didn’t I? It nearly burned through both hands, but I got it.”
“If you think that qualifies you, then you are as deficient in wisdom as you are in maturity. Nearly every step you have taken since you have been here has proven your lack of readiness.”
“What do you mean? I worked so hard. I traveled so far. I suffered so much. What else should I have done?”
Alaph spread a wing toward the bed in the far corner. “You might want to ask the man over there what else you should have done. You could address him by name had you bothered to ask him for it. Yet now he is unable to answer. He is a body without a soul.”
Jason stared into the dimness. The bed was a shapeless shadow with only a lump to indicate the man’s body. “I … I tried to bring a stardrop to him, but …”
“But what? It was impossible?” Alaph curled his neck and brought his face directly in front of Jason’s. “Was the stardrop hotter the first time?”
Jason averted his eyes. “No. I guess it wasn’t.”
“I thought not.”
“But he wasn’t my father. Shouldn’t I work harder to save my father than I would to …” Even as he asked the question, it seemed like the most foolish he had ever asked. He couldn’t finish.
“To save a stranger?” the dragon asked.
Jason shoved a hand into his trousers pocket and stared at the nest of vines at his feet. “I suppose so.”
The dragon’s tone and cadence shifted to that of a fiery prophet. “You were willing to burn in flames for your father, but you would risk no more than a bee sting for a stranger. And now you expect to rescue hundreds of strangers from peril far greater than any you have ever faced, challenging dragons who can inflict far more pain than that tiny drop of starlight ever could. If you have run with tortoises and lost the race, how will you fare against jackrabbits? Unless the measure of your passion matches the magnitude of your purpose, you will fail, and your failure may well drag everyone into the pit with you.”
Every word penetrated Jason’s mind like a thrusting sword. Alaph had struck true. There could be no retort. For now, he just had to lick his wounds and confess. Nothing else made any sense.
He looked Alaph in the eye. “I agree with you. I didn’t try hard enough for the stranger, and now I know better. What can I do to prove myself?”
“You have already proven yourself, that you are inadequate for the task. I will send you home and—”
“No!” Jason shouted.
His father and the dragon drew their heads back, but neither said a word.
As a new wave of heat flooded Jason’s cheeks, he stood tall and kept his voice firm. “I’m sorry, but I can’t … I won’t … go home without Elyssa. I brought her here, and if I know her, she came back looking for me. Maybe I do try harder for my family and friends, and maybe I’m not ready to risk my life for strangers, but I know this: if I leave now, I would be the worst traitor—the worst coward—who ever pretended to be a hero.” Grasping the hilt of his sword, he squared his shoulders. “I will not go home until I’m sure Elyssa is safe.”
Alaph glanced at Edison, then turned back to Jason. “Very well. Your appeal is reasonable, so I acquiesce to your demand. I expect that you will have more opportunities to prove yourself, so I will be interested in reports I hear about you. For now, I will take your father so that he can retrieve his clothes and obtain a proper weapon.”
Jason looked at the floor again and nodded. Questions lined up to be asked: Who was Alaph? Why was he here? Why didn’t he go south and help the slaves? Even if he had to stay here, what advice might he have? Yet, with his failure still stinging, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions quite yet. A more urgent task called.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Jason soft-stepped across the creaking vines toward the old man’s bed. Cassabrie joined him, now visible as she glided at his side.
“It is too late to ask his name,” she said.
“I know. I just want to pay my respects.” He looked down at the roots, imagining a grave plot in the woody network. “Where do you bury your dead?”
“There is no such place. No one ever dies here.”
Jason peered at her as he walked. She stared straight ahead, as if her statement were the most normal in the world.
Alaph flew toward the main corridor, carrying Edison on his back. Jason’s hair and clothes flapped in the ensuing breeze, but Cassabrie kept staring without a flinch.
“What do you mean no one ever dies here?” he asked. “This man died, and my father nearly died, too.”
“Your father didn’t die, so my statement still stands. As for this man, you will soon see what I meant.” When they reached him and stood at the bedside, she faded from sight. Jason looked at the
man, curled in a fetal position, facing away. A blanket covered his body from the shoulder down, revealing only his head of gray hair.
Cassabrie’s voice broke the silence. “This man did not die.”
“But Alaph said—”
“Shh! … The king said he was a body without a soul.” Her cape appeared, twirling as if whipped by a wind. The lump in the bed disappeared, blanket and all.
She looked up at Jason. “He never had a soul.”
Jason’s volume rose to a near shout. “You created his image?”
“I did.”
“This was all a trick?”
“Not a trick. A test.”
He pointed toward his father’s bed, his arm trembling. “What about bringing the stardrop? Was that just a test? Would my father have died if I hadn’t brought it?”
“He would have died, to be sure. Getting the stardrop was absolutely essential to save his life. But it also worked as a test, and a revealing one at that.”
Jason forced his voice lower, but he couldn’t stop a growl from filtering in. “You said no one dies here. If he would have died, how can it be true? I could easily have failed. That thing just about burned holes through my hands.”
“I have learned not to ask such questions. Hypothetical queries that defy what I know to be true are a waste of time. You did not fail, so your father lives. The fact remains as true as ever. No one dies here.”
Jason glared at the empty bed. Cassabrie had been in on a plot to test him all along. Sure, everything worked out all right. His father survived, and he did learn a lesson, but at what risk? Why hadn’t they just told him the truth?
“It’s not difficult to read your countenance, Jason. You feel betrayed, and I understand. I could tell you that the king commanded my actions, but even if he had merely requested my participation, I would have agreed. If you don’t understand why, I cannot help you. Explaining would turn refined gold into useless dust.”
Jason nodded slowly. Her soothing tone massaged away his anger. She was right, of course. The burning stardrop would forever be etched in his memory, and the pain of his failure would never allow him to forget the value of a stranger. That was how true tests worked. The one to be stretched needed to be ignorant. No one ever reaches beyond his perceived limits without a fire beneath his feet.