by Bryan Davis
Elyssa held the stardrop between her thumb and finger and drew it closer to her mouth. Warm to her fingers, it seemed fiery hot to her lips. She shifted her gaze to the white dragon. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
The dragon’s brow turned downward for a moment before rising again. “You do not, and I have no way to prove my words. You must decide based on what you know. If you decide that I am untrustworthy, then go your way. You cannot help Jason and his father. If you choose to swallow the stardrop and you survive, I will teach you how to use your power. If you take it and perish, I will see to a proper burial. But choose quickly. Their lights are waning.”
Elyssa closed her eyes. Could she do it? Could she drop this flaming sphere into her mouth and swallow it?
Firming her chin, she nodded. For Jason. Yes, for Jason she could do it. She opened her mouth, tossed the stardrop as far back as she could, and swallowed. It merely tingled going down, warm but not burning.
She looked at the dragon. He stared back at her, his ears erect and his head tilted.
“Okay,” she said. “That was easier than I —”
A shot of heat stabbed her insides. Sizzling fire erupted into her throat like a flood of burning bile, then surged deep into her belly, jabbing like a demon with a fire poker. Grasping her stomach, she fell to her knees and cried out loud and long.
She toppled to her side and curled to a fetal position on the roots. Hot gas belched through her lips as throaty words gushed like rhythmic bursts of a volcano. “Help! … Oh, help me! … Dear Creator, help me! … I’m dying.”
More gas erupted, this time mixed with acid, burning her tongue and lips. She spat and coughed. Spasms twisted her stomach so cruelly it seemed that a saber-toothed beast gnawed her gut, shaking her intestines to tear them loose from her body. Would this kind of pain continue? For the rest of her life? No! It would be better to die!
Finally, the beast released her. The demon rested his poker. The acid settled to a simmer, and the gas pressure eased. She let her body go limp. Every muscle relaxed. Even her heart slowed to the beat of a death march. Then a sense of cold returned, as if her blood had turned to icy water and flowed to every part of her body. She shivered harder than ever. The end was near. As her curled frame quaked, she whispered. “I tried, Jason. I tried so hard. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Tears flowed, cold tears that chilled her cheeks. Only a tiny core of heat remained, likely the stardrop itself burning a hole in the pit of her stomach. Like an overlooked ember after the dousing of a campfire, it sizzled on, radiating heat but no longer causing pain.
The core swelled, and its warmth spread, first coating her insides and loosening her stiff muscles. It radiated outward and thawed her frozen joints and skin. Yet no pain followed, only glorious relief.
She pushed against the floor and lifted her head, but her hair was tangled in the roots. Exhausted, she let her head flop back down.
The dragon snaked his neck toward her and set his eyes close to hers. “Try again. Jason and his father have very little time remaining.”
Elyssa pushed, lifting her head a few inches, but her hair stayed entangled, too much to tear loose. With a surge of energy, she jerked against the flooring, but the roots wouldn’t budge. “Cut my hair!” she shouted. “Or burn it with your breath! Just get me up off this floor!”
“I have no fire,” the dragon said calmly, “but I can help.” He lifted a foreleg and swiped a razor-sharp claw across her hair at the floor line. With the sudden release, she snapped upright and nearly toppled the other way.
Energy coursed through her body. Her muscles flexed. She leaped to her feet and scanned the room. “Where are they? What do I do?”
“First, I want you to know that my name is Alaph.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Elyssa cocked her head. “You look different now. Clearer. Brighter.”
“For good reason. Look at your hands.”
She lifted her hands. Her skin emanated a soft glow.
“Your face is glowing as well,” Alaph said. “The light you see is your own.”
“What happened? Did I die after all?”
“In a manner of speaking, but we can discuss that riddle later. For now, I will teach you how to use your gift, a gift you always had but now are able to use to its fullest.”
With Deference following, Elyssa walked toward Jason’s bed, keeping her footfalls soft on the roots. Just as Alaph had said, the roots, which he had called branches, led to humanlike trees, one standing behind each healing station.
When she stopped at the bedside, Deference joined her. “I call this tree Wisdom,” Deference said, sparks from her mouth giving away her position. “Look at his face. Don’t you think it looks wise?”
Elyssa let her gaze follow the trunk until she spotted a protruding knot, two recesses just above it, and a huge gall on each side. “I see a nose, ears, and eyes, but no mouth.”
“Right. Most wise people I know don’t say much, but they listen a lot.”
“Good point.” A branch from Wisdom protruded over Jason’s bed. Like a human arm, the branch ended with an open hand, palm facing up, as if the tree reached out to ask for a trinket. She lifted to tiptoes and touched the palm with a fingertip. The bark absorbed her glow. Light filtered down and emerged at the back of the tree’s hand, raining glittering sparks that fell to a sheet covering Jason’s body.
Leaning over the bed, she set her palm on Jason’s pale cheek. Her glow spread and coated his skin from chin to forehead. “Warm,” she whispered. “High fever.”
Deference nodded. “Infection?”
“Maybe.”
With his mouth slightly open, Jason turned his head to the side and inhaled a gurgling breath. When he exhaled, a thin line of drool fell to the pillow, tinged with blood.
Elyssa cringed. “That can’t be good.”
“Probably bleeding into his lungs,” Deference said. “In case you’re wondering, my father was a doctor. He taught me a lot.”
“Then I’m glad you’re at my side. Keep telling me what you think.” Elyssa pulled the sheet down to Jason’s waist, exposing his undershirt-draped torso. Her pendant lay on his chest, the closed-hands side facing up.
Deference touched the pendant. “That might get in the way.”
“I’ll get it.” Elyssa slid the chain over Jason’s head and put it over her own, letting the pendant dangle. “Now for the shirt.”
She pinched the shirt’s hem at the side and lifted, peeling it from his skin slowly to keep the dried blood from pulling. As blood flaked away and rained to the bottom sheet, she peered at the wound. A bruise painted his skin purple and black from the bottom of his ribcage to just under his armpit, and a hole at the bruise’s center revealed the jagged end of a bone, his broken rib. Blood dripped from the opening, slow but steady, as well as from a vertical gash that sliced across his ribs.
Deference pointed at a purple glow shining through Jason’s skin over his pectoral muscle. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.
“A litmus finger. It’s supposed to be a guide to finding a portal from our world to yours.” Elyssa slowly lowered her hand to the wounds and set her palm over the bone. She closed her eyes and probed within. Two ribs had fractured. The other end of the protruding one was still attached to the rib cage, though barely. The second rib had been pushed inward, and the broken end scratched a lung, causing a quarter-inch tear. With every breath Jason took, the lung expanded and pressed against the bone. “I sense a pool of blood near a tear in his lung.”
“That’s what I was worried about,” Deference said. “He can’t survive for long in that condition.”
“If not for this.” Elyssa stood on tiptoes again and grasped the tree’s hand as if greeting a friend. Her glow poured into the bark, sending veins of light toward the trunk. Seconds later, sparks rained from the tree hand’s underside. Elyssa let go and cupped her hands under the glittering shower.
“Deference, do you have
a bandage, a long, wide one I can use to bind Jason’s ribs?”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Deference turned and ran across the roots.
When the sparks filled her hands, Elyssa poured them over Jason’s wounds. Massaging gently with her fingers, she rubbed the energy into his skin while pushing some through the hole and the gash. He grimaced with every touch and groaned with every push.
Words flowed into her mind. “I’m sorry, Jason, but without pain there can be no healing. Without suffering there can be no renewal. Without sacrifice there can be no freedom. Seeds fall to the ground in every farmer’s field, but unless they are buried and die, they never sprout to new life. Pain spawns growth. There is no other way.”
As she continued the massage, her arms weakened, and dizziness swam through her head, but she continued scooping stray sparkles and gathering them over the wounds. The pendant glowed, growing hot enough to warm her skin through her shirt. The bone began to recede. Blood poured over her fingers. Jason’s gurgles deepened.
Furrowing her brow, she infused passion into her voice. “Jason, hear me. I have told you many times that you are my warrior. You have rescued me from uncountable dangers, risking your life to save mine. I love you for that, of course, but I love you because of who you are. Even if you could never perform another heroic act, even if I had to care for you like this every day, I would still love you.” Tears welled and began spilling to her cheeks. The pendant’s glow brightened, and her strength continued to wane. “You’re my hero, Jason Masters, because you never give up seeking to save the lost. Even in fields of thorns, you search for a rose. In darkness, you always find a light. And in the lowest level of a dungeon, in a cold cell forsaken by all, you found me in chains, in the midst of my own filth. Although you should have been repulsed at the sight of me, you looked upon me with eyes of love. And you set me free.”
The flow of blood ebbed. The hole and gash began to close, and the bruise shrank. Breathing a sigh, she continued. “Do you know what else I learned, Jason? While the white dragon was teaching me how to use the healing tree, he told me I sprouted from a hybrid seed. As a Diviner, I have some Starlighter gifts. I am able to distribute Starlight’s energy, which is what I am doing to you. As you absorb it, you will be healed, and your mind will be enabled to receive the wisdom of the ages. Alaph said that this wouldn’t work on most people, only on those who have prepared themselves to receive it, those who long for light in the midst of darkness.”
The hole sealed completely. The bruise shrank further, its color fading.
Elyssa lifted her hands—weak and feeble. Every spark had been absorbed, but it was likely enough. Her fingers dripping blood, she gazed at Jason’s face. He breathed easily now, and color slowly returned to his cheeks.
She touched the pendant — still warm, though the glow had faded. She turned it to the side where two open hands had been carved and gazed at the escaping dove flying just above them. With tears flowing, she caressed the dove with a finger. “Freedom is the greatest gift of all.”
Blood smeared the surface, but cleaning it would have to wait. It was time to go and care for another fallen warrior. As she turned, Deference arrived with a long stream of cloth trailing from her hand. “It took a long time,” she said. “It’s hard to carry things very far when you don’t have a body.”
“True.” Elyssa laid a hand over Deference’s dimming chest. “But you can do almost anything as long as you have a heart.”
twelve
Holding the map in one hand and a flaming torch in the other, Randall followed Miller’s Creek as it wound through a dense forest. Carrying a hefty backpack of supplies and dressed in a heavy cloak, winter trousers, two tunics, and thick boots, his march drew sweat from his pores. Although autumn had come to Mesolantrum, the air hadn’t chilled enough to make this outfit comfortable. Promises of frigid winds on Dracon had prompted a stealthy visit to Jason’s home to grab extra clothing for himself and Orion, and now a dose of frosty weather would be a welcome blessing. Randall had also taken his mother to Jason’s commune, a safe refuge from the palace conspirators.
Randall glanced at the map, hastily drawn by Marcelle with a charcoal pencil that he kept in an inner-tunic pocket. The portal lay at the center of a clearing just beyond the boundary to the Forbidden Zone, but with the creek meandering close to several clearings, finding the right one near the midnight hour might be a challenge.
He marched on, reasonably unimpeded by foliage. Since Marcelle and a few others had been there not long ago, a narrow path cut a swath through the undergrowth, and recently hacked branches lay here and there. That helped. Maybe the path ended at the portal. Time would tell.
Still, finding the right clearing had its dangers. Marcelle said the portal should be open and that it would lead to a snow-blanketed forest. A person could walk through without any genetic key or crystalline peg, meaning he could stumble into Dracon without warning. Marcelle hadn’t said that coming back to Major Four would be just as easy, so staying near the edge of each clearing made sense.
Randall imagined her marching next to him. Her experience would have been a boon, but staying behind to get the troops ready was more important. Since the army had no experience with dragons, they could benefit greatly from her confidence.
After squeezing between two bramble bushes, the path opened into a grassy circle. He drew the torch close to the map. This could be the one. Either way, it was time to signal the dragons.
Looking up at the sky, he waved the torch. Clouds veiled the moon and stars, a perfect night for getting two dragons from the dungeon to the outer limits of Mesolantrum without being seen. After some discussion, he and Marcelle had decided that it made more sense to keep the dragons’ presence a secret. Not for fear for their safety—who on Mesolantrum would attack a dragon?—but because too many lives rode in the balance to risk a panic. Marcelle’s influence and the letter from Orion should be enough to order the troops to the portal later.
Maybe.
He slid the backpack to the ground and waved the torch again. The previous clearing, where the dragons now hid, lay hundreds of feet back. No breeze passed through the forest, and no sounds disturbed the silence. With the circle of grass at least fifty feet wide, this clearing was big enough for them to land, but they would have to be careful to stay near the clearing’s boundary as planned.
A loud crack sounded from above. Magnar crashed through the branches at the edge of the clearing and flew clumsily to the ground, dropping Orion as he leveled off for a landing. While Arxad descended, Randall dashed to Orion and helped him rise.
Orion brushed off his borrowed tunic and trousers, both too large for his narrow frame. “Stupid beast! Why are you so much clumsier than Arxad?”
Magnar stomped toward him, his head rearing back like an adder ready to strike. “How dare you talk to me that way, human! Now you will burn!”
“No!” Arxad beat his wings and shot between Orion and Magnar. “Killing him is not wise.”
“Why not? He has signed the letters. What further need of him do we have?”
“You see?” Orion said, pointing at Magnar. “The dragons want nothing more than power. They plan to kill us when they no longer need us.” He brushed a lingering twig from his shoulder. “That is exactly why I insulted him, to raise his ire. It was a test.”
Randall glanced at his photo gun at one hip and his sword at the other. Either one would dispatch this sniveling liar and stop the bickering, but if Orion happened to be right, neither weapon would be enough against an extane-empowered dragon, and maybe two if Arxad decided to take Magnar’s side. Maybe the right words would cool everyone down. “Orion, Magnar has been a slave master for longer than we’ve been alive. He’s not used to humans insulting him. He just lost his temper. You saw Arxad flying to your defense. That should mean something, right?”
“Perhaps.” Orion shook a finger at Magnar. “But we shouldn’t turn our back on this one.”
Arxad shove
d Orion with a wing. “Do not take my protective ways as an excuse to be insolent. Since your signature is so powerful, you are still of value to us, so my protection might not be as benevolent as you imagine.”
“Okay,” Randall said, raising his voice, “I think we’d better get back to the task at hand.” He held out the map. “According to this, it looks like we’re in the right place, or at least pretty close. This clearing matches Marcelle’s description.”
All four turned toward the center of the grassy circle and stared, as if waiting for something to happen. Only a slight crackle from Randall’s torch interrupted the eerie quiet. Moonlight broke through the cloud bank, illuminating a thin fog that crawled along the grass like a creeping ghost.
Randall stuffed the map into his trousers pocket and marched forward. Someone had to break the trance. “So do I just walk across the circle?”
“Wait!” Arxad called.
Randall halted. “What’s wrong?”
Arxad took in a long draught of air, his tongue darting out and in. “I smell the Northlands’ evergreens, so the portal is clearly open, but I sense something else, not an odor. More of a feeling, a familiar presence.”
“Dragons can sense a presence?” Randall asked.
“Not usually. Because of certain duties I have as a priest, this is a presence only I would recognize. She has become an ally in some ways, though she is unpredictable.”
“She?” Randall and Magnar said at the same time.
Arxad bobbed his head. “Perhaps it would be better to wait a moment.”
The fog swept toward the center of the clearing. As it began a slow spin, it thickened and rose in a column. Streams of moonlight mixed into the misty cyclone, brightening and taking on the shape of a female human, though without facial details.
Magnar’s ears flattened. “Could it be?”
Randall drew his sword and took a step closer. “Who is it?”
“No need for alarm,” Arxad said. “She will not hurt you. Magnar, however, would do well to hide himself.”