Third Starlighter

by Bryan Davis

  While Adrian told his story, Shellinda snuggled up to Marcelle and fell asleep. Regina found her way into Adrian’s lap and rested her head in the crook of his arm. Soon she, too, dozed, her mouth ajar and her hands loosely clinging to one of his. Wallace joined them as well, sitting quietly with a sword across his lap.

  After explaining his theory regarding Drexel and the healing trees, Adrian let out a long sigh. “So when I talked to Arxad, he seemed nervous. He said to tell you that they need an army, but the Benefile are not the answer, something about their emergence signaling the destruction of his species and ours.”

  “Arxad knows that the Benefile are in those trees, but he isn’t able to enter the glade because he’s too big, so he doesn’t know that they’re skewered like rabbits on spits, and he also doesn’t know that it’s impossible to get them out. When you try to cut the branches, they grow back in seconds.”

  “I noticed,” Adrian said, nodding, “but Arxad seemed to think you’re keeping a secret about them. He’s been protecting you so he can learn the secret.”

  Frederick chuckled. “That old fire-breather is spewing hot air. He refuses to admit that he has a soft spot for the children. He’s protecting me for their sakes.”

  “So there isn’t any secret?”

  “Only that I can’t get the Benefile out.” Frederick shrugged. “I didn’t see any reason to tell him. I just led him to believe that I would try to let them out if I thought they would be beneficial for us, which is true.”

  “Does Arxad know where they are?”

  “He knows about the trees, but he can’t get inside the glade.” Frederick drew lines in the air. “The barrier wall ends on the west not far to the north of the trees. If you were to extend the wall southward, the glade would sit just outside of the boundary. An impassable marsh sits a little farther to the west, so it’s just as good as a wall. I think the dragons didn’t want to work on the wall so close to the trees because of fear of the Benefile.”

  “So the marsh was an excuse to stop the project?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  Adrian rolled his hand into a fist. “We have to stop Drexel. If he succeeds in cutting through the trees, that will ruin my plans.”

  Frederick arched one eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that?”

  “I was thinking I should take Marcelle to the Northlands and put her in one of the healing beds so she could be healed by a tree.”

  “And a stardrop,” Frederick added.

  “Right, but even if Drexel can’t hurt the trees, if her spirit is on Major Four, what good would taking her to the Northlands do? The problem wouldn’t be with her body at all. If she’s not dreaming, she’s just an empty shell that has occasional visits from its soul.” Adrian pressed a finger against the floor. “Maybe I should stay here and see what Drexel’s up to. Trying to set the Benefile free would take a while, but if he eventually succeeds, who can tell what they’ll do? You might need all the help you can get.”

  Frederick stared at Marcelle for a long moment before answering. “The idea that her spirit is in another world is just a theory, and a shaky one at that. Even if it’s true, she’ll come back to Starlight through the Northlands portal. One way or the other, you need to be there. You’ll either get her healed or get her spirit reunited with her body. I can handle things here. We don’t know if Drexel can release the Benefile or not, and even if he can, there’s no solid proof that they’ll be a problem.” He turned to Adrian. “Go to the Northlands. Marcelle’s life depends on it.”

  Adrian nodded. “You’re right. Nothing else makes much sense. I just wish there was a way to protect the trees.”

  “Leave that to me. I’ll have to pay the glade another visit. I hate leaving these kids alone, but there might not be any other way.”

  “Okay,” Adrian said, “that settles it. I’ll go to the Northlands.”

  “It’s a long journey. You should take someone with you, a boy who can handle your sword. With all the beasts out there, two warriors are better than one, especially if you’re trying to keep Marcelle safe.”

  Wallace raised a hand. “Take me. I can handle a sword.”

  Frederick smiled. “We have a volunteer.”

  “Good.” Adrian scanned the room. “I’ll need a girl as well, someone who can see to Marcelle’s needs.”

  “Of course. Do you have one in mind?”

  “Shellinda and Penelope have served that purpose well, but I don’t need both.”

  Frederick nodded at Shellinda, still snuggling close to Marcelle. “It might be hard to separate those two.”

  Regina squeezed Adrian’s hand. “Don’t forget me,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “You can’t separate me from you either.”

  “I’d love to take you, Regina, but you’re—”

  “Blind?” A pout formed. “I can see some things you can’t. You wouldn’t have found Sarah without me.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but I still can’t figure out how you did it.”

  She opened her eyes, revealing glazed green irises. “I don’t know either. It’s been like this ever since I washed in the spring, but sometimes it’s all confusing. Things happen in my mind, and then it jumps back and happens again, almost like someone’s telling me a story over and over. And sometimes I see things that aren’t where I am, like right now I can see the spring and the trees again. Drexel is there with a sword, and he’s climbing in the branches, hacking at them.”

  “Visions,” Frederick said. “One of the village elders, a gentleman named Lattimer, told me about a phenomenon like this.”

  “What did he say?” Adrian asked.

  “Quite a bit.” Frederick nudged Adrian’s leg with his foot. “You mentioned Cassabrie, but you didn’t give much detail.”

  Adrian averted his gaze. Telling him about her indwelling presence would take too much time. “I wanted to keep my story brief. There’s a lot more to say about her.”

  “As I suspected. Lattimer said she was, or is, a Starlighter.”

  “Right. Cassabrie has the ability to tell tales, and they come to life around her. She receives them from the air and expresses what she sees in her mind.”

  Frederick nodded at Regina. “Perhaps you have a Starlighter in your lap.”

  As Adrian gazed at Regina, his thoughts drifted back to his first meeting with Cassabrie, the cold, emaciated waif who had spun into existence as Arxad’s emissary. When she later entered his body, she proved herself to be much more than a naïve child. She was an agenda-driven woman who inflamed him with passion. She had a purpose and a plan, and nothing would stand in her way. Now Regina insisted on accompanying him to the Northlands. Were all Starlighters cut from a similar cloth? Arxad had mentioned Koren, another Starlighter, who now traveled with Jason. Maybe Jason had also experienced the power and passion of her presence.

  Adrian passed a hand across Regina’s scalp, feeling the short bristles. Although young and inexperienced, this green-eyed redhead could very well be the third Starlighter. “I will take you,” he said. “You and Shellinda and Wallace.”

  “I have extra clothes for the journey,” Frederick added, “but I gave a lot of my homemade weapons to the villagers, so I can’t spare another. You’ll have just one sword.”

  Adrian nodded. “We’ll have to manage.”

  “Oh, one more thing. During her murmurings, Marcelle was lucid enough to ask me to give you some messages.”

  “Really?” Adrian lifted an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

  Frederick raised a finger with each phrase. “She said she would bring soldiers, that Cassabrie would help, and for you to do whatever love tells you.”

  “Hmmm. Those last two are rather cryptic.”

  “I thought so, but one other message was quite clear. You know how straightforward Marcelle can be.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Adrian raised his hands in mock defense. “I’m ready. Hit me with it.”

  Frederick lowered his voice, his expressio
n turning serious. “She said to tell you that she loves you.”

  Lowering his hands, Adrian blinked. “She said that? Are you sure?”

  “No doubt about it. She was emphatic.”

  “Emphatic,” Adrian whispered as he looked away. “She loves me.”

  “Anyway, you’ll also need my cart. It will be a tight fit, even for Marcelle, but we’ll put plenty of straw under her to make her comfortable.”

  “That’ll help, but …” He looked again at Marcelle, still lying motionless on her back. “I think I’ll carry her as much as I can.”

  “Why? I know she’s small, but her muscles are like rocks. I’ve carried her, so I know. She’s heavier than she looks.”

  “True, but I want to keep her close. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Marcelle looked down the staircase leading to the dungeon’s maze. All was quiet. With the dungeon now empty of prisoners, there was no need for guards to roam the halls. The odor of sweat and filth still permeated the upper-level corridor, but the sense of heaviness had lifted. This was no longer a place of cruel oppression.

  Holding a yellow glow stick out in front, she descended. After only a dozen steps, a bitter extane film coated her tongue, more biting than in the corridor leading to the pipeline. When she reached the bottom, a wall blocked the path. Condensation dripped down its black surface, drawing wavy lines around tiny crags.

  A dark passage led to the left and to the right. The dungeon exit lay somewhere to the right, but in a maze, maybe the opposite way would be the better choice. Still, whoever constructed the maze likely knew that an explorer might guess that.

  She shook her head. Trying to overthink this situation didn’t make sense. She turned to the right, extended her glow stick, and padded slowly into the darkness.

  Something skittered across her feet. She jumped back and lowered the stick close to the floor. A rat scurried away, hugging the right-hand wall.

  Staying low, Marcelle followed. The rat probably knew the maze better than anyone, and it wouldn’t run to a dead end when pursued.

  The black ball of fur raced through several turns. Marcelle battled to maintain her bearings intact, always keeping the direction to the dungeon’s rear exit in mind. After a sharp turn toward the exit, the rat stopped, stood on its hind legs, and stared ahead, its nose and whiskers twitching. Letting out a shrill squeak, it dashed between Marcelle’s legs and scampered away.

  She tucked the glow stick into her pocket and stared into the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Without a heartbeat or need to breathe, she became like silence itself. Air brushed by her cheeks, first from the front, then from the back, as if the dungeon maze took breaths in her stead. A slight rumble rode with the respiration, like the droning snores of sleeping old men. The dragons were there … somewhere, most likely close to the exit so they could monitor the gate. Even if they were asleep, sneaking past them might be impossible. Of course, finding out why they were here was important, but so was staying alive.

  Marcelle pictured the two dragons as they lay somewhere up ahead, their long necks and tails snaking across the floor. Maybe getting Arxad and Magnar to converse with each other would be the best way to learn their secrets. But how? If only she could be like Cassabrie, able to dissolve and become a disembodied spirit at will. Speaking to the dragons while invisible might prompt them to divulge their secrets.

  She withdrew the glow stick, cupped it in a hand, and gazed at her fingers. Somehow she had dissolved twice now, once when she passed through the hole in the escape tunnel’s rubble and once when she crumbled in the heat of the execution flames. Is that what Cassabrie meant about urgency? The two events certainly had aspects in common—a need to escape, a deep sense of necessity.

  Marcelle closed her eyes. Could she conjure such a need? Or was it something that just had to happen on its own? When Cassabrie crumbled in the grasp of Darien’s soldiers, she was in desperate trouble. If even she needed a real impetus, maybe that was the only way. Still, she didn’t seem desperate at all when she left the holding cell.

  With her other hand, Marcelle withdrew the note to Randall, the key to the next step in the slaves’ liberation. She had to plant it where he would find it or else they might never escape. This was real urgency. Maybe being helpless would trigger the necessary passion.

  Moving slowly, she unhooked her scabbard and laid it on the ground, then pulled her hood up and drew it over her brow. Holding her glow stick out, she ran toward the rumbling sounds. The yellow aura revealed the floor and walls at each side as she rushed past. After she turned with a bend in the tunnel, a light came into view, a rectangle with crisscrossing bars—the dungeon’s exit.

  From an alcove to the left, a dragon’s head extended across her path, bobbing at the end of a long neck, but it was too dark to tell if it was Arxad or Magnar. She ducked underneath and kept running.

  “Stop!” the dragon shouted.

  Near the exit gate, Marcelle found a small stone and, shielding her actions with her body, set the note underneath.

  “Good. You stopped.” The dragon’s voice carried a hint of relief. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  She edged backwards, not wanting the dragon to get a good look at her face. The voice sounded like Arxad’s. She disguised her own voice, deepening it. “Perhaps I should ask you the same questions. It is not becoming of alien creatures to interrogate the aboriginals.”

  Arxad snorted. “Aboriginals. If only you knew.”

  “You might be surprised at what I know,” Marcelle said. “The hatching of your plot is no longer a secret.”

  Another dragon voice joined in. “We cannot allow this woman to leave. She will reveal our whereabouts.”

  “What do you suggest?” Arxad asked with an annoyed tone. “Roasting her?”

  “Only if she tries to escape. She must remain here until Randall returns. He will know if she poses a threat to our security.”

  Marcelle nodded. That was the cue. Steeling herself, she spun and sprinted back.

  “Halt!” Magnar shouted.

  She ducked under the two dragons’ heads and ran on. The crackle of an inferno roared toward her from behind. She tripped and fell headlong. When her hands smacked against the ground, they broke and crumbled along with her arms, and when her chest landed, she slid forward, light and free, as if gliding along ice.

  A ball of fire flew over her head and farther into the tunnel. The surrounding gas exploded, lighting up the walls until the flames dispersed. Marcelle rolled over and looked back. Sunlight from the exit gate gave a background for the two dragon heads.

  “What happened?” Arxad asked.

  “She disintegrated.” Smoke rose from Magnar’s nostrils. “Could the pheterone in this refuge have made my flames that hot?”

  “I certainly feel an increased potency, but the exploding pheterone killed her. We are fortunate that it did not collapse the entire chamber.”

  “Perhaps, but the increased potency is an excellent development.”

  “Excellent?” Arxad again took on an annoyed tone. “You just murdered a human.”

  “Murdered? Humans are not sacred. Save that term for dragonkind.”

  “This is an old debate. The point is if we kill any inhabitants, whether sacred or not, the others will not be likely to do what we ask.”

  Marcelle pushed against the ground and rose to her feet easily, as if floating. She was probably invisible to them now, a perfect situation. Maybe the dragons really would talk about their purpose. Listening in could be crucial.

  “Did you see something?” Magnar asked.

  Arxad’s head bobbed. “A glimmer of light.”

  Marcelle froze. Just as with Deference in the Northlands, movement brought visibility.

  “Probably the human’s embers,” Magnar said.

  “She was carrying a glowing stick for light. Perhaps we saw that.”

  “Perhaps.” Magnar faced Arxad. “No one need learn about this death. The
woman was likely a prisoner in the dungeon who sought a way of escape. Even if the humans learn about her fate, they will care little about her loss.”

  Arxad nodded. “Yet I am intrigued by her statement.”

  “What statement?”

  Arxad enunciated carefully. “The hatching of your plot is no longer a secret.”

  “That is not stunning,” Magnar said. “Perhaps Randall has succeeded in raising an army, and the humans here already know.”

  “That is not the plot to which she referred. She emphasized hatching with reference to aboriginals. The first humans here hatched from eggs.”

  “Nonsense,” Magnar said. “Randall knows nothing about that. She could not have learned that from him.”

  “Then why the emphasis?”

  “Taushin hatched from an egg. It is his hatching and ascension to the throne that has provoked our need for an army. It seems that Randall has told everyone the events leading up to our request.”

  Arxad snorted. “Our demand, you mean. Refusing to take no for an answer is not exactly a request.”

  “Another old debate. Since the fate of their own race is at stake, I have no qualms about forcing the issue if necessary.”

  “Your pretense at appealing to the greater good might fool them, my brother, but I have known you for too long. You care only for your continued rule.”

  Magnar growled. “Beware that you keep your insulting skepticism private. The humans must not know that we are at odds. We have a common goal with them, and whatever happens after we stop Taushin is not my concern. As long as Exodus is airborne and spreading pheterone, they can all leave Starlight. I hope to never see another human again.”

  “I understand.”

  The two dragons shuffled back into the alcove and disappeared from view.

  Marcelle floated to the point where she had fallen. Near the glow stick, her mourning cloak lay spread out on the floor. She lifted it slowly, revealing dust in a humanlike shape, barely visible in the dimness. The key ring, mirror, charcoal pencil, and parchment pages still weighed down the cloak’s pocket, and the sword lay underneath.