Liberator

by Bryan Davis

  “Drink blood?” She grimaced, not caring that Alaph could see her disgust. “The Code forbids it.”

  “You cannot acquire the gift of mercy unless you consume it.”

  Koren’s hand shook, creating ripples on top of the scarlet pool. “But drinking blood is barbaric.” Again words flowed as if unbridled. “Can’t I free the slaves some other way? I thought the prophecy said I was supposed to sacrifice myself. I could become Taushin’s eyes and …” She bit her tongue. That was one idea that had to be bridled. Even considering it made her feet feel constricted, as if the boots had returned, black and tight.

  “I did not say drinking my blood would free the slaves, and your interpretation of the prophecy is faulty.” Alaph let out a long and loud sigh. “I presumed too much. You still lack understanding. Since you are not ready to take my place, the gift will not pass.”

  “Not pass?” Heat flared in Koren’s cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me? First you ask me to catch your blood, and then you want me to drink it, and now you’re saying not to. Are you trying to drive me insane?”

  “Beware, Koren. Indeed insanity approaches, but you are unaware of the cause. It is not I who tortures your mind.”

  “Not you?” She clenched her teeth, spitting as she yelled. “You’re the one who wanted to destroy the wall! You’re the one who wanted to get rid of a symbol! And what happened? My father got crushed! He’s dead! And all because of your vendetta against your curse!”

  “Koren, you are torturing yourself. You are allowing the burdens of every man, woman, and child on Starlight to fall upon you, but they are not yours to bear. You must listen to me. Release the load. Drink the mercy, and you will feel the worries of the world slide off your shoulders.”

  “But if you’re mercy, why did you leave your mate and the other two white dragons suffering in the trees? Your own mate!”

  “I know this all too well, but mercy can never be the only principle in the cosmos, which is why Beth and I are mates, a balance of justice and mercy. And sometimes justice has to overrule mercy when judgment is necessary to keep the innocent from suffering.”

  “The innocent? Don’t you keep innocent slaves in your own castle? Sure, they aren’t whipped, but you still tell them what to do. They’re just little ghosts who glide to and fro, serving your every whim. Doesn’t that make you a tyrant, just like the other dragons?”

  “If you think me a tyrant, then surely your mind is too tortured to perceive reality. You are too accustomed to burdens, and you refuse to release them. Drink the blood, and you will understand how to remove those burdens from yourself and from others. Mercy will let your mind rest.”

  “Oh, Alaph! I can’t! I can’t!” Tears broke out. A sobbing spasm shook her body as she cried, “It’s forbidden! Don’t you understand?”

  “What the Creator has cleansed, no longer consider unclean. It is light. It is purging energy. Whoever consumes the light becomes a light.”

  “A light?” Koren scanned Alaph’s body. He had a dragon’s snout, a dragon’s ears, and a dragon’s scales. Dragon wings draped his back and side, dragon claws protruded from his dragon legs, and a long dragon tail extended behind him. For years dragons had brutalized and murdered her friends. Their whips raised bleeding welts, and their labors broke the bodies and spirits of every human soul on Starlight. And worst of all, they tortured tiny children in the cattle camp, literally starving them to death in order to see which ones survived. And now this dragon, a supposed dragon of mercy who left his own mate imprisoned for countless years while he ruled over slaves in his own domain, asked a human to drink his blood, a violation of the Code. Were Alaph’s promises any more believable than Taushin’s? How could he be light when his actions seemed to contribute to the darkness?

  She shook her head. All slave masters were corrupt. Love never requires chains. Humans had to be saved by humans. “I can’t.” She poured the blood out on the ground and smeared the remnants on her trousers. “I can’t trust any dragon. Not you, not Taushin, not Magnar.”

  A long exhale breezed from Alaph’s snout. “What about Arxad?”

  Koren bit her lip. The heat in her cheeks radiated down her neck, drawing sweat from her pores. What about Arxad? No answer came to mind.

  “It seems that I have exercised poor judgment.” Alaph’s voice grew weaker by the second. “Perhaps, however, the Creator will use your mistake for good. There is still hope that someone who understands will come after you, someone who knows what to do with the gift you have spurned.”

  Koren laid a hand on her head. Confused thoughts swirled. A mistake? A gift spurned? Her reasons for rejecting the blood were good ones … weren’t they? “Someone who understands?” she said, trying to calm her voice. “With all the mysteries, who could possibly figure out what’s going on?”

  “You will see.” Gasping, Alaph whispered, “Sprinkle grains of Exodus on me and let this tyrant pass from Starlight.” With a final rasping breath, he closed his eyes and moved no more.

  “Alaph!” Koren stroked his brow. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was saying! I didn’t mean to call you a tyrant. It just popped out. I was angry. I was upset. I was …”

  She let the thoughts die. Every excuse seemed foolish. Nothing could make up for her unbridled words. Maybe they were true. Maybe they weren’t. But speaking them to a dying dragon didn’t help matters at all.

  Lifting her hand, she stared at the blood smear on her palm. Alaph’s words drifted back to mind, soft and gentle. Release the load. Drink the mercy, and you will feel the worries of the world slide off your shoulders…. Drink the blood, and you will understand how to remove those burdens from yourself and from others. Mercy will let your mind rest…. What the Creator has cleansed, no longer consider unclean. It is light. It is purging energy. Whoever consumes the light becomes a light.

  Koren nodded. She had taken on the burdens of Starlight. Torture had filled her mind ever since the day she decided to seek help for Natalla in the Basilica. Before that time, she was a simple slave, understanding nothing more than the labors of daily strife and the chains of oppression, but when the black egg appeared, a new realization emerged. True slavery was one of mind, not body. Although she had bent her will to Taushin’s and had since been released from his chains, another war raged on.

  Who was really the liberator? It couldn’t be the Starlighter who read the prophecy. She could no more make a prophecy come true than she could make Solarus rise in the morning. Sure, she could choose to be the sacrifice, but even if she refused, the one who fashioned the prophetic words and rhymes would simply find someone to take her place. The real liberator was the author, not the reader.

  Koren shrugged, as if trying to shed the burdens. Today, she lost the battle. Tomorrow she would fight again … harder. But was it really possible to cast the burdens off forever?

  She stared at the blood on the ground. It no longer glowed. In fact, when on the ground, it no longer carried any color at all, more like water than blood. The thought of drinking blood had nearly made her gag, but now the fear seemed foolish, a superstition expressed in the whining of a child.

  She rose slowly, bent over, and again stroked Alaph’s brow. Blood smeared on his scales, red on white, a stark contrast. The blood he had offered, the blood she had rejected, now lay unused on his carcass.

  Letting out a wordless wail, she covered her face with her hands. What had she done? Alaph sacrificed himself, but for whom? A foolish slave girl who didn’t know anything! She failed him! She failed miserably. And now maybe all was lost.

  After crying for some time, she backed away, wiping her eyes and staring at Alaph’s lifeless body. What should she do with it? He was far too big to bury. He asked her to sprinkle grains of Exodus on him, but her father had those in his crucible. Maybe waiting for Cassabrie was the answer. She would know what to do.

  Koren turned toward the wall. The dust had settled, revealing a pile of rubble that stretched from several paces to the left
of the river’s edge to just before the opposite bank. Beyond those boundaries, the wall stood firm, ending abruptly at the collapse points, as if the builders had given up too early on their construction project.

  Her legs shaking, she walked to the rubble where her daddy last stood. She cast an image of him there as well as one of herself and replayed her rescue. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her into the river, then, just as he made ready to leap in after her, a huge stone flew at him. She stopped the scene at that point, restarted it at the beginning, and played the loop again and again. In each repetition, although fear wrinkled his brow, his eyes shone with love. Nothing would have stopped him from saving her life.

  She stepped closer. In the image, he pushed something into her tunic pocket. With his hand completely enveloping the object, there was no way to identify it.

  Koren reached into her pocket. With Cassabrie’s box still there, and with saturated material adding weight, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. She drew out the crucible, its lid still tightly in place. So that was why Alaph requested Exodus crystals. He must have seen Orson transfer the crucible.

  Something else lay in her pocket. She pulled out a packet of clear wax that held a handful of black powder. A wet folded parchment came along with it—her father’s instructions for making the medicine. She pushed both back into her pocket. He had made sure that his work would continue.

  Prying off the crucible’s lid as she walked, she returned to Alaph’s corpse. She stood erect and pinched a dab of crystals. Rubbing her thumb and finger together, she let them fall over Alaph’s wound. A few dropped over the spot where the blood had spilled, raising tiny splashes of radiance.

  As if alive, the crystals crawled along his body, sparkling, growing in size and speed. Some gnawed downward and disappeared deep in his flesh, while others raced along the surface. As they popped and sizzled, white smoke rose in sparkling plumes. They left behind nothing—no skin, flesh, or bones.

  Koren backed away, flinching at every sound. Alaph had given his life hoping she would carry his gift of mercy to others, but she, like a witless slave, rejected it. She really wasn’t ready to convey such a precious gift. Now his body was disintegrating along with his hope.

  Soon, Alaph was gone. The blood that seeped into the ground burned, leaving a scorched circle. Whatever he had meant about the Creator using her mistake for good dissolved with him—hope lost, a death for nothing. And it was all the fault of an ignorant Starlighter.

  A breeze blew through her wet tunic and trousers. She looked at the river. Her cloak was out there somewhere. Without it, would she be able to exercise her gifts with as much power? Did it matter?

  She resealed the crucible and shuffled back to the collapsed wall. There was no need to wait for Cassabrie now. Alaph was gone. She had the star material and the other ingredients. If she could make the medicine herself, maybe some people could be cured.

  Maybe.

  She pressed a fist against her gut. The pain had subsided earlier, but her sobs brought it roaring back. The cure had either failed or was taking a long time to work. In either case, the only option was to go on. It might be hours before Cassabrie showed up, if ever.

  She climbed the head-high mound of debris and descended the other side. A new battle lay ahead. The enemy awaited.

  Fifteen

  After following the river for a while, Koren veered to the left toward the village and the grottoes. Soon the Zodiac’s spires came into view, then the rear of the Zodiac itself. Moans of pain and lament filled the air along with the sounds of angry dragons. Bending low, Koren skulked to the back of the butcher’s shop and crept through the narrow alley between it and the accountant’s office.

  When she reached the street side of the alley, she stopped and peered around the corner. To the left, the Zodiac’s dome lay open. In front of the Zodiac’s portico, hundreds of people stood or reclined in a haphazard line in front of a white dragon. Taushin and Mallerin sat on their haunches nearby, as did two other white dragons, apparently observing.

  Behind the first Benefile dragon, several white forms lay in a row, like closely packed logs coated with flour. Before she could get a good look at them, movement near the far corner of the Zodiac’s main building caught her attention.

  Koren squinted. A young man peeked around the edge of the building. He looked just like Randall. Why would he be there?

  The next slave in line, a young woman, staggered to the end of the row of white logs, reeling from side to side. She lay down, as if pretending to be the next log. The dragon blew out a spray and covered her in sparkling white.

  Koren gasped. Clenching her fists, she swallowed down boiling anger. Were they so hopeless that they would just lie down and wait quietly for execution? Was freedom so cheap that a few moments waiting to die were worth more than the chance of liberty?

  As if echoing her thought, a man dashed from the slave line. Before he could advance ten steps, Mallerin shot a stream of fire that engulfed him in flames. Within seconds, he crumbled in a heap of bones and melting flesh.

  Koren turned away. No matter how much cruelty scarred the world of Starlight, seeing a man burn was something no one could get used to. Sudden pity overwhelmed her. Faced with a choice between freezing or burning, they stood in line to await a tragic end. Someone had to show them how to fight back.

  Just as she took a step to intervene, a flash of light streaked from Randall’s hiding place. A glowing girl waved her arms and called out, “Hey! Try to catch me!” She dashed up the portico stairs and disappeared under the roof.

  A white dragon flew in pursuit, shouting, “Continue the showers of mercy. I will find her.”

  Randall charged, his sword drawn, but what could he do to stop so many dragons?

  Koren ran into the street, instinctively reaching for the hood that was no longer there. When she arrived near the front of the slave line, she stopped and yelled, “Listen to me!”

  As if splashed in the face with cold water, every human and dragon snapped toward her. When all eyes had focused on her, Koren bent over and began stalking across the cobblestones like a cat searching for a mouse. As she made a circuit, the people and the Benefile slid backwards, creating a circular stage on the cobblestone street.

  “I have come to bring a medicine that will cure the disease,” Koren said in a dramatic tone, “but it will take some time to blend. While you wait, hear my tale of treachery, sorcery, and villainy.” She pinched a stone from the street and lifted it to her eyes. It transformed into a blazing stardrop. With a quick glance, she spied Taushin. Although Mallerin appeared to be mesmerized, Taushin seemed unaffected, but he showed no signs of interfering. “Many years ago,” she continued, “a Starlighter appeared in our midst, a girl named Zena who bore extraordinary gifts of storytelling that enthralled dragons and humans alike.”

  A girl appeared next to Koren. Although not fully physical, she was less transparent than any phantom Koren had yet created. Zena’s red hair shone like Solarus, and her eyes sparkled like dew on a verdant meadow.

  Koren spun her body. Normally her cloak would have fanned out in a wide arc. Instead, a cloak appeared on Zena, just as blue and lush as the one Koren had lost.

  “She took a Starlighter’s mantle, but her power bred lust for more power, so she studied the ways of the sorceress.” As Koren spoke, Zena’s cloak darkened. Streaks of black crawled across her hair, like ebony serpents intertwining with her tresses. She carried an open book in her arms. As she read, her features grew blacker and blacker. Even her eyes transformed from emeralds to oval lumps of coal.

  “With her power becoming great enough to threaten Magnar, he took her into his service, promising her increasing authority as she proved her worth. But then Cassabrie was born, a new Starlighter whose power was greater than even Zena’s. After being captured by Zena through a cunning ruse, Cassabrie cooked at the stake for days and suffered in horrific agony.”

  As if sprouting from soil, the cookin
g stake rose from the ground, and Cassabrie took shape in front of it. Wrapped in chains, she writhed as she struggled against the links.

  “Yet, in her dying throes, Cassabrie foiled Zena’s plans to rise in authority. Energy shot from her eyes and blinded Zena.”

  The scene played out Koren’s words. Twin shafts of light from Cassabrie’s eyes drilled into Zena’s. Smoke rose from the contact points. Zena covered her eyes and ran. Yet, although her legs moved, she stayed in place, while Cassabrie and the cooking stake vanished.

  “Her vision ruined, Zena resorted to a new plan. Tamminy the dragon bard had prophesied a coming prince who would hatch from a black egg. The song of hope offered relief to dragons and slaves alike.”

  A white cloud materialized and formed into Tamminy. The old dragon sang in the draconic tongue, low and haunting, yet lovely in tone.

  An egg of ebon, black as coal,

  Will bring about the dragons’ goal.

  The dragon rising from its shell

  Will overcome a deadly knell.

  Though weak and crippled at the start,

  Its strength begins within its heart.

  Above all others it will soar,

  And dragonkind will all adore.

  Its greatness, might, and crown will rest

  Upon a head of promises.

  Then humans far and wide will see

  And hope for coming jubilee.

  For paradise begins that day;

  All labors cease and turn to play.

  When dragons learn to see the light,

  And give to men their sacred right.

  A liberator comes on high

  With mercy streaming from her eyes.

  The slaves must take her blood and bone

  And plant within this mercy sown.

  In honor of this treasured hour,

  We celebrate Creator’s power.

  The dawn of paradise will bring