Third Starlighter

by Bryan Davis

  He climbed to his feet, reached up, and pulled the broken limb. It sank with his weight, the branches cracking and breaking. It wouldn’t support him, much less the added pressure of a girl jumping from above, and if she tried to jump two levels, she might crash into the broken limb in between.

  Adrian glanced at his hand. The glow was no longer there. Obviously the portal didn’t catch and hold people who traveled downward.

  “You appear to need some help,” someone said. “You have exhausted your options for retrieving your female companion.”

  Adrian turned toward the voice. A white dragon stared at him, its head bobbing at the end of a long neck stretching down from the level above. Branches impaled its chest, but very little else was visible in the dim light.

  “Well, it does seem that way.” His head still pounding, Adrian glanced at his sword. So far there seemed to be no need to draw it. “I could climb to the ground, come up another tree, and meet her in the healing room.”

  “An interesting idea.” The dragon seemed to purr like a cat, its voice feminine and appealing. “That means you will trust me to watch over her in your absence or else trust that she will be safe alone in the palace. It is good that you have so much faith. I commend you.”

  Adrian stared into the dragon’s blue eyes. Her words were perfectly reasonable, but listening to her for very long could be trouble. Her hypnotic allure was already evident. “I think I’ll take my chances with the palace.”

  “Very well, but allow me to give you an option. I think I can stretch far enough to allow the girl to climb onto my neck and ride safely down while you watch at all times. That would eliminate danger for both of you.”

  “Only if you’re not dangerous,” Adrian said.

  The dragon tilted her head. “Me? How could I be dangerous? I trust that you can see my dilemma. I cannot move anything but my neck and head. What benefit would I gain from harming you or this child?”

  “A full belly came to mind.”

  The dragon’s eyes widened. “Eat the child! How preposterous! Even if I were to conjure such a hideous plan, she would not even make it to my stomach. Branches from these trees penetrate every portion of my digestive system. Trying to pass food would bring torture beyond belief.”

  “I’ll ride the dragon,” Regina called. “I’m not afraid. She seems real nice.”

  The dragon’s lips stretched out into what appeared to be a friendly smile. “There. You see? You need not fear anything, including fear.”

  Adrian kept his face expressionless. “It’s not a good idea to trust a dragon who is trapped because she tried to usurp the Creator.”

  “Ah! You have spoken to Alaph!” Her smile evaporated, replaced by a pitiful frown. “It seems that when you were in the healing rooms, you allowed his influence to overpower you. He has a formidable mind, to be sure. Such is the way of the portal mist. When it covers you, you are easily manipulated.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard, so I’m trying to keep from being manipulated.”

  “Perhaps you have already been manipulated.” The dragon’s eyes moved, scanning him. “You are not covered by the mist now. Your mind is free from Alaph’s control, so you are able to make decisions on your own, if you so choose.”

  Adrian crossed his arms. “He told me that my time while in that state would make me vulnerable even after I left.”

  “Quite true. You are vulnerable. Yet not nearly as vulnerable now as you were while you were in Alaph’s abode. So it stands to reason that you would believe his story, because he had a strong influence over you, much stronger than any influence I could have now. The fact is, he has given you a version of the past that is incomplete. If you will allow me to fill in the gaps, you will hear for yourself that he has manipulated you.”

  Adrian shifted his weight from foot to foot. It seemed that no position felt comfortable. “As you might be manipulating me now.”

  “I concede that possibility.” The dragon drew her head a few inches closer, obviously straining at the effort. “Your logical faculties are sharp, and your thinking is clear, so may I suggest that I rescue the girl? That will alleviate a stressful situation and take the pressure off your mind. If you then decide not to hear my story, I will bid you a peaceful farewell.”

  “It’s okay,” Regina called. “I think she’s a good dragon.”

  Adrian glanced between dragon and girl. Since mist fully enveloped Regina, she was still being influenced. Her assurances didn’t mean anything. But what choice did he have? Every other option seemed dashed, but the inability to think of an alternative plan could be because of muddled thinking. Yet, wasn’t simply considering that his thinking might be muddled a sign that it was clear?

  He laid a hand on his throbbing head. It seemed impossible to know. And he had to think fast. Marcelle and Frederick were still unconscious with only children guarding them. He couldn’t waste so much time.

  Heaving a long sigh, he nodded. “Go ahead. Bring her down here.”

  Without a hint of emotion, the dragon nodded in return, then elevated her head, passing through the layer of mist. When she neared Regina’s level, her head stopped short of her position— about five feet away and three feet lower. “This is the limit of my ability to stretch,” the dragon said. “You will have to walk onto the branches until you are directly over me and find a hole you can push through to get to my neck.”

  “Okay.” Regina crawled away from the trunk and onto the woody mat of intertwining branches. When she reached the point above the dragon’s neck, she pushed her legs through a gap, but her trousers snagged. Tugging at the catch, she cried out, “I can’t get it loose.” Then, with a loud snap, she fell through. Her leg struck the dragon’s neck, but she toppled to the side, screaming.

  With a quick swipe, the dragon snatched her pant leg with its teeth and held on. Regina dangled under the dragon’s chin, her arms flailing. She gasped, though her screaming had stopped.

  Adrian grabbed the broken limb above, hoisted himself up, and walked on the branches, sinking as the broken foundation slowly gave way. Holding out his arms in a cradle, he settled under Regina as the dragon lowered her toward him.

  When Regina passed through the layer of mist, the portal stripped her glowing raiment away. She gasped once more, blinking rapidly, but again said nothing.

  Finally, the dragon set her gently in Adrian’s arms and drew back. “I trust she is well. I apologize for tearing her clothes, but it could not be helped.”

  Regina threw her arms around Adrian’s neck and buried her face in his tunic. “I’m blind again!” she cried, her voice muffled. “Adrian, I don’t want to be blind!”

  While the branches sank, Adrian stroked her arm. “It must be the portal. You’re blind here but not there.”

  She pulled away and gazed aimlessly with teary eyes. They glimmered more brightly than ever. “Then take me up again! I want to stay there!”

  “But I have to get back to the others, and I can’t leave you up there alone.” Still cradling her, he edged toward the trunk until he reached a sturdier part of the sinking limb. He hopped down to the lower level, dodging the branches as they snapped upward.

  When they had settled on the firmer limb, Regina pressed her face against his tunic again and wept.

  The dragon stretched closer. “It seems that you have a dilemma. You must choose between heeding the girl’s tear-filled entreaty and protecting others. What will you do?”

  “I have to get back to the others. I can always return for Regina’s sake later.”

  “I see. Delaying gratification for the sake of protecting others is wise indeed. Yet, may I delay you one more moment with some information that should aid your cause?”

  Adrian nodded. “I will take a moment.”

  “If you set me and the others free, I will show you how to restore her sight. With my help, she would not need to return to Alaph’s palace to heal her eyes. Going back through this portal would strip her physical presence, and she
would be no more than a phantasm. She would see, of course, but she would have no substance, and to keep from going blind again, she would have to stay in the Northlands forever. Would it not be better to strive for eyesight that includes freedom of body and movement?”

  Adrian hugged Regina more tightly. “If you’re so concerned about her, why don’t you just tell me how to restore her sight?”

  “Because I am the one who has to do it, and I cannot perform this feat from here and in a perforated condition. I must be set free so I can bathe in the healing waters. Only then will I be strong enough to heal her.”

  Regina drew back and pulled on Adrian’s tunic. “Let’s help her get out. She’s a nice dragon. And then I’ll be able to see.”

  Adrian set her down on the limb and looked again at the dragon. “How do you propose that I set you free?”

  “The spring wells up because of a blockage in an underground river. If you can remove the river’s obstacle, the spring will stop feeding the trees, and you will be able to break the branches. When we are free, you can restore the spring so the trees can continue to provide healing for those in need in Alaph’s castle.”

  Adrian looked toward the forest floor, imagining the underground river with a boulder blocking its path. The task seemed simple in concept, but it could take hours to accomplish. “I don’t have time for that right now, but I will consider your proposal when I am sure of the safety of everyone in my care.”

  “As you should.” The dragon drew her head back. “Safe travels, Adrian. I hope to see you again soon. I cannot hear what occurs on ground level, so if you wish to speak to me, please climb up here again.”

  Wiping tears from her eyes, Regina turned toward her. “What’s your name?”

  The dragon closed her eyes and gave a stately bow with her neck and head. “You may call me Beth. I am Alaph’s mate.”

  Regina blinked rapidly. “His mate? Why won’t he rescue his own mate?”

  Beth let out a long sigh. “I think you will have to ask him that yourself, for I can think of no valid reasons. He and I were united as one, battling the evil dragons of the Southlands who hoped to rule the entire world, but it seems that his own desire to rule overwhelmed his duty toward me. And now, as you see, he is free while I am locked in eternal torment.”

  “Poor Beth!” Regina tugged on Adrian’s sleeve. “We have to help her.”

  “Let’s go check on the others first.” He added a whisper in her ear. “If Frederick agrees, we’ll do whatever we can to help her.”

  * * *

  SEVEN

  * * *

  MARCELLE groped her way through the dark tunnel, one hand brushing the wall to her left and one touching the pipeline to her right. If memory served, the wall’s surface should alter from rock to brick, signaling the passageway to the dungeon. Since that passage’s floor was a few feet higher than that of the gas line, she would have to probe at shoulder level or above.

  After a few minutes, her fingers ran along a slight dip. She turned and felt the surface. Yes, these were bricks, stacked instead of mortared together. She pushed a brick forward until it dropped into the tunnel beyond the wall. The hole loosened the stack, allowing her to push other bricks more easily until the gap grew big enough to climb through.

  She vaulted up to the dungeon’s floor and crouched. With darkness still shrouding her vision, she drew a mental map of the surroundings. About fifty paces ahead, a stairway ascended to the left, leading to the upper level, and from there, another left turn would lead to a second stairway that climbed to the exit.

  She began sliding the bricks back in place. Keeping her comings and goings hidden might prove to be a benefit. As she worked, her previous experience at this spot came to mind. Elyssa, a prisoner on this level, helped her find this secret passage to the pipeline. What had happened to her? Drexel had promised to help her escape, and Gregor had said that all dungeon prisoners had been released. Still, Gregor likely spoke hearsay. It wouldn’t hurt to verify the claim.

  When Marcelle finished with the bricks, she rose and ran her hand along the left wall. Her fingers brushed metal bars—a window, Elyssa’s cell. She stopped, grabbed the bars, and set her mouth between them. “Elyssa?” she called. “Are you in there?”

  No one answered.

  She raised her voice. “Elyssa! If you’re in there, say something!”

  Only her echoing words replied.

  Sighing, Marcelle released the bars and marched on. The upwelling cold returned, raising frigid chills across her skin. She shivered hard, mentally forcing the cold waves back to her body’s core. That helped, though trickles of cold continued to seep through to her extremities.

  After negotiating the stairs to the upper level, she turned left into the corridor and slowed her pace, listening and brushing her fingers along the right-hand wall as she counted the barred windows. The crazy old man claiming to be Tibalt Blackstone occupied a cell here. Maybe he could shed some light on what happened to Elyssa.

  When she reached his cell, she stopped and peered in. Scratching noises sounded from within, just a faint rustle. “Tibalt? Is that you?”

  Marcelle set her ear between the window’s bars and pulled on the door. Locked. The rustling continued, perhaps a little louder, but no one answered.

  Drawing back a step, she imagined the inside of the cell. Might Tibalt be gagged? Asleep? Drugged? Or might a rat be in there, scrounging for a meal? There seemed to be no way to find out, but since Elyssa was gone, maybe what Gregor heard was true after all, and only rats now roamed the dungeon.

  She continued toward the entrance. When she found the stairway, she lowered her head and, holding one hand up, climbed slowly. Soon, her fingers touched the trapdoor at the top.

  She pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Feeling with her fingers, she came across the latch. A spring held it in place, too tight to move. Why was it locked? With no prisoners, it didn’t make any sense.

  She drew out Gregor’s sword, inserted the tip between the spring’s coils, and twisted with all her might. A grinding sound rattled in the chamber, then a high-pitched ping.

  Keeping the blade in place, she sat on a lower step and shoved the trapdoor with her foot. It popped open like a book cover and thudded on the ground outside. Light poured in, revealing the latch mechanism protruding from a wood frame around the opening. A metal plate within the mechanism faced downward, a keyhole in the center of the plate.

  She heaved a sigh, rose to a crouch, and peered out. If anyone noticed the door flinging open, all the stealth in the world wouldn’t keep her from being seen. Still, she had to be careful, just in case.

  The rear of the palace lay in view, the hangman’s noose and the burning stake visible in between. Gregor stood at the door, leaning against a column, the same pose as before. With his eyes aimed at the porch’s ceiling, he seemed to be daydreaming, apparently too lost in his thoughts to hear the trapdoor. Maybe she could slip out without him noticing.

  Keeping her body in a tight crouch, she rolled out onto the lawn. Gregor didn’t move a muscle, and it seemed that no one else was around. Moving quickly, she stood and closed the trapdoor, letting it drop softly in place. When the air blew out around the sides, it refastened itself with a muffled click. As she lowered herself to her belly, she eyed the latch. It had locked on its own.

  Crawling with her elbows, she slithered to the gallows platform and hid behind it. A breeze stirred the rope, making the noose sway. Of course, this rope was just for show. Being out in the elements day and night made it unfit to bear much weight, but it looked ominous all the same.

  The sound of the platform’s trapdoor springing open knifed into her ears, then the grunt of the noose’s victim. Gasps from the crowd followed, as well as a few weeping laments. Yet, the platform door had not moved. The display rope still swung without a neck in its noose, and the courtyard lay empty of gawking witnesses.

  As ghostly shrieks of pain erupted, Marcelle laid her hands over her e
ars. Surely the blood spilled in this place of torture and death cried out for justice, but why was she hearing the calls? Dreams often included strange, unexplained sounds, but why now? Was she supposed to feel guilty about the injustices perpetrated here? Shouldn’t the Creator listen to these cries and satisfy the hunger for freedom in this land?

  Gregor opened the palace’s rear door. Orion and Maelstrom walked out side by side, Maelstrom carrying a coil of rope. Apparently talking to each other, they walked straight toward the gallows.

  Marcelle opened an access panel at the side of the gallows, squeezed through, and crawled under the platform. She knelt below the trapdoor, listening to the sounds of approaching footsteps.

  The two men marched up the stairs to the top of the platform and stopped at the noose. Maelstrom’s calm, even voice filtered down. “I brought this rope from Tarkton. I used it for all our hangings. It has special properties that make it useful for capturing a sorceress.”

  “Special properties?” Orion asked.

  “Feel the fibers.”

  After a moment’s pause, Orion continued. “Sharp. Like broken glass.”

  “Sharp, indeed, but not glass. I call this my truth-detecting rope. The shards are from a crystal that causes traitors to confess and tell us who their conspirators are. Before we open the trapdoor, we tighten the noose, and the shards cut into the traitor’s throat. Then we offer clemency to his condemned wife and children if he will simply reveal the conspirators. Perhaps it is only pain and fear that squeeze the confession out of him, but I believe the crystal is part of the persuasion. I can see it shimmer as they speak, which helps me know that the traitor is telling the truth. When it turns black, he is lying.”

  “A truly helpful tool, I would say. What do you do after the confession?”

  “We hang him, of course. The rope makes it a bloody business, but even that is a deterrent. We hear loud complaints about the gory practice from the witnesses, but ever since we started using it, the crowds have grown.”