Third Starlighter (Tales of Starlight)

by Bryan Davis

  Reed nodded. “There’s a path leading to it from the palace, but it’s not well traveled.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “This might be my only chance.”

  “To do what?”

  “To kidnap Orion, of course.”

  Reed laughed. “Are you serious? He’ll have every archer at his disposal in those woods. Randall might be hoping for a neutral parley, but Orion will make sure the numbers are in his favor.”

  “But Orion probably doesn’t know about the dragons. Randall would be a fool to send that as part of the message.”

  “True. So he’ll have only six archers and one bodyguard.” Reed stroked his chin. “You need to get a message to Randall. Find out what the dragons want. Maybe they’ll help us get Orion’s signature.”

  “On the letter of marque?” Dunwoody asked.

  “Exactly.” Marcelle began pacing a short path. “We could go to the dungeon, but if Randall’s not there, we shouldn’t trust those dragons with delivering a message.”

  “Pen and ink,” Dunwoody said. “I can provide those along with parchment. Leave Randall a written message at the dungeon gate.”

  “That sounds good.” Marcelle took Dunwoody’s hand. “Will you stay with the children while Captain Reed and I go?”

  “What of your father? If you are delayed, I won’t be able to leave to set him free.”

  “Good point.” Marcelle looked at Captain Reed. With two important goals to accomplish, either he or she would have to get the message to Randall alone. “I should go. Randall was a student of mine. He’ll trust me.”

  Reed nodded. “Although I relish the thought of going on this secret mission, I will gladly stay with my daughter and the other children.”

  “Come,” Dunwoody whispered as he walked toward the panel. “I will get three parchment pages, one for your message to Randall, one for the letter of marque, and an extra one just in case you make an error. When you were in my class, you often had to discard sheets because of ink spills.”

  “Professor. I was ten.”

  “Yes, of course.” He stopped at the panel. “In any case, if you can get his signature at the bottom of a page, return it to me, and I will draw up the letter.”

  He opened the panel, poked his head back out, and motioned for Marcelle to follow. When they emerged in the archives room, she stood up and looked around. With papers and books scattered everywhere, the place was a mess. “I hope you can find a letter of marque to copy,” she whispered.

  “I hope I can find a pen and ink.” Dunwoody rummaged through a box on the floor, then another. After kicking through several piles, he lifted a finger. “Aha!”

  “A pen? Ink?”

  “Both.” He leaned over and picked up a quill pen and an inkwell. “It’s an old-fashioned variety, but it should work.” He drew the inkwell close to his ear and shook it. “I’m afraid there isn’t much left.”

  “I’ll make the note short.”

  Dunwoody retrieved three blank parchment pages from the floor. “You might as well use my table. I’ll watch the door.” He waded through the mess until he reached the door leading to the stairs. With his cheek pressed against it, he nodded. “All is clear so far.”

  Marcelle sat on a stack of boxes, spread a parchment page out on Dunwoody’s worktable, and dipped the quill’s tip into the well. Hovering the pen over the paper, she imagined Randall reading the note. Somehow, he needed to figure out who wrote it without the benefit of a signature at the end. If she had to leave it somewhere and someone else found it, signing it would give too much away.

  Smiling, she nodded. A feminine flair would help.

  She wrote carefully, recalling her best penmanship from her school days. Dunwoody was right about one thing; she had often scrapped entire sheets because of the smallest of errors.

  Randall, I am working on gathering the troops we need for war on Starlight. Because of recent events that would exhaust my dwindling ink if I were to tell them, I was able to assemble a contingent of believers, but I will need more proof, or at least more leverage, if I hope to gather enough soldiers to do battle against the dragons. I will contact you in person soon so we can combine our efforts. Until then, I wish you well.

  She paused. Would this be sufficient? Maybe just one more clue.

  After dipping the quill again and finding very little ink remaining, she signed the bottom with the letter M.

  “Finished.” She folded the note and pushed it into her cloak’s pocket. “But I’m out of ink. I’ll need something for Orion’s signature.”

  Dunwoody scanned his desk. “Aha!” He snatched an object that lay next to a haphazard pile of journals and displayed it in his palm: a stubby black cylinder no longer than a thumb. “It’s a charcoal pencil. If one is careful, it will suffice for a signature.”

  “Won’t it rub off easily?”

  “It might smudge, but that won’t matter. Such implements are common for battlefield signatures. Commanders rarely pack pen and ink.”

  She and Dunwoody ducked back through the access panel and returned to the hideaway. Once inside, the three adults huddled near the hole to the pipeline tunnel.

  “I suppose this is the safest route,” Marcelle said. “The pipeline will eventually lead to the surface somewhere, but it might take me a while to get to the dungeon’s back gate.”

  Reed gestured with his hands, as if drawing a path. “Not if you go through the dungeon’s maze. You could leave your message just inside the back gate where no one but Randall could find it.”

  “If Randall is housing the dragons in there,” Marcelle said, “that might be suicide. I would have to pass right by them.”

  Dunwoody raised a finger. “Not if you use your speaking gifts. You could hypnotize them with your oratory. Then you could learn their purpose in coming.”

  “As if they’d tell me,” she said with a huff. “Magnar is not one to reveal any secrets, and I haven’t tested my gifts on dragons. If acting like a Starlighter angers them, a failed attempt might be my last attempt.”

  Captain Reed nodded at the sword bulging under Marcelle’s cloak. “If you’ll let me borrow that, I will deliver the message.”

  She shook her head. “The dragons don’t know you. They might burn you to a heap of ashes before you had a chance to explain.” Sighing, she pushed her cloak back and gripped the sword’s hilt. “I have to go.”

  “Then we’d better get you some glow sticks. Otherwise you’ll never make it through the maze.” Reed raised his brow at Dunwoody. “Do you have any?”

  He nodded. “Several. I will fetch them, but you should eat and drink before you go. There is plenty of food and water in the rations cache.”

  “Not as much as you think,” Captain Reed said, laughing. “These children were famished.”

  “That’s fine, as long as you’re all fed.”

  Reed glanced at Marcelle. “Not all. Perhaps you can persuade Marcelle to eat. I couldn’t.”

  Dunwoody waved a hand. “She is a warrior. No need to treat her like a child.”

  “Thank you,” Marcelle said, bowing her head as she sneaked a grin at Reed. “I’m glad someone doesn’t look at me as if I were an orphan girl.”

  “I’ll be right back with the glow sticks.” Dunwoody hurried to the panel and crawled into the archives room.

  Captain Reed grasped Marcelle’s wrist. “Listen!” Sighing, he loosened his grip and softened his tone. “Marcelle, I know you’re a warrior and not an orphan, but I also know you’re not well, and you’re about to face dragons alone. Your reputation with a sword is unquestioned, but no one, man or woman, should go into battle against such fire-breathers while sick.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Captain.” She slid her hand back and grasped his in a thumb lock. “Just think about how you’re going to use that letter to get your soldiers ready, and I’ll let you know what the dragons are up to.”

  “Very well.” He withdrew the key ring from a pocket and set it in her hand. “Godsp
eed to you, warrior.”

  * * *

  FIFTEEN

  * * *

  ADRIAN walked hand in hand with Regina, carrying Sarah with his other arm, her head against his shoulder. In the darkness of the underground river channel, his mind drifted back to their recent journey—a long hike downstream to the river’s exit point on the surface where the water spilled out at a rocky slope at least five arrow shots north of the barrier wall, then another hike back upstream past where the spring once upwelled.

  The girls were now exhausted, but they had to go on. Traveling to the Northlands from the river’s exit was out of the question. They weren’t dressed warmly enough, and Frederick’s cabin was much closer.

  Although tired, Regina marched on through the darkness, chatting at times about visions she could see in her mind’s eye. “It’s strange,” she said. “I think I see the place where we were a little while ago, the place where the river comes out from underground.”

  “Is that so?” Adrian high stepped over a boulder in the middle of the stream and guided her around it. The river’s bank had long ago disappeared, and they now walked through ankle-deep water in the tube-like tunnel. The ceiling had been getting progressively lower as an occasional reach of a hand proved. The fetid odor had strengthened for a while, then diminished later, but without light, they never found a source for the smell. “Do you see anything unusual?”

  “Just firelight on the great barrier wall. I’ve never seen the outside of it before.”

  Adrian pictured the barrier wall, covered with the flickering lights of lanterns and torches. Although Solarus had risen high in the sky, the undulating flames were still easy to see, but the complete darkness now made those moments seem like a dream. “What does it look like?”

  Regina’s voice took on a dramatic tone. “Like a dragon’s eyes when he’s angry, when he’s about to crack his whip. You can always tell. Most of the time a dragon’s eyes are dull orange, sort of like the clay around our mound at the camp, but when he gets mad, they burst into bright orange or even red flames. You can see the whip snapping in his eyes before he even draws the real whip back. It cracks again and again, just like a lantern’s flame when a breeze bends its yellow back and then snaps it to attention. The flame is trying to do its job even though the wind isn’t happy with its labors.” She sighed. “Anyway, that’s what the firelight looked like on the wall.”

  “That’s exactly what it looked like.” Adrian took in a deep breath. Regina was sounding more like Cassabrie all the time. Her Starlighter gifts were becoming more and more evident. “After we gather everyone at the cabin and get them ready for cold weather, maybe you and I will go back to the healing waters and try to heal your eyes again before we go to the Northlands.”

  Regina clapped her hands. “Yay!”

  Soon, the stream and its tunnel sloped upward, and the space between ground and ceiling shrank. Adrian set Sarah down and crawled until he could go no farther. Water poured in from a small opening between two boulders in the ceiling. He pushed one with his hand, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Setting his head against the tunnel’s dead end, he pushed the ground above with both hands and shoulders. Straining with all his might as water poured over his body, he lifted a boulder and shoved it to the side. Now standing with his head in fresh air, he rolled the other boulder out of the way, widening the opening.

  After helping Regina and Sarah out, he scanned the area, aided by sunshine peering through the treetops. If this was the same stream where he had found Frederick’s sword, it wouldn’t take long to find the path back to the cabin.

  He hoisted the girls into his arms. “Just relax. We’ll be there soon.” He marched upstream until he found the disturbed banks where he had crawled in and out earlier. Turning onto the path, he broke into a fast march.

  When he closed in on the cabin, he slowed to a stop about a hundred paces away, set the girls down, and inserted his pinky fingers into his mouth to create a narrow blowhole. With quick spurts, he whistled a long, warbling note.

  “I heard something,” Regina whispered.

  “I made the noise.” Adrian wiped his wet fingers on his tunic. “It’s a birdcall.”

  “I’ve never heard a call like that before.”

  “I’m not surprised. This particular bird lives on my world. If my brother hears it, he’ll recognize it.”

  After a few seconds, a man emerged from the cabin’s door and walked their way. Adrian swallowed. His gait was unmistakable. It was Frederick, at long last.

  “Come on.” He took the girls by the hand and hustled as quickly as their little legs would go.

  Frederick burst into a sprint. “Adrian!”

  Adrian let go of the girls and ran to meet him. The brothers embraced, patting each other on the back. “It’s about time you showed up,” Frederick said, keeping his voice low. “What have you been doing out there? Collecting flowers?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” As they drew apart, their hands and wrists still locked, Adrian grinned. “You’re looking a lot better than when I saw you last.”

  Frederick’s brow bent, but his smile stayed put. “It’ll take more than a fiend like Drexel to keep a son of Edison Masters down.”

  Adrian glanced past him. “How is Marcelle doing?”

  “Not too good, I’m afraid. She has moments of wakefulness, and she talked some.” Frederick gestured toward the cabin. “She’s inside. You can see for yourself.”

  Adrian pointed at Frederick’s leg. “You’re walking okay now. Were you faking earlier?”

  “I wasn’t faking it. You went to the spring, didn’t you? Its water heals—”

  Adrian punched Frederick’s arm. “Still taking everything literally. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Laughing, the two embraced again. After a few seconds, Frederick tapped Adrian on the back. “Is that Sarah?”

  Adrian turned. Regina and Sarah stood hand in hand, facing them. Still bare-chested, Sarah shivered, but her smile was as warm as sunshine. “Yes,” he said. “We’d better get them inside.”

  When they entered the cabin, Frederick wrapped the two girls in a deerskin and guided them toward the back of the room, high stepping over and around the other children. As Adrian followed, he scanned the snoozing forms, illuminated by lanterns burning at each corner and daylight streaming in from the open door. Although most were half-naked, they slept without any covering. The closeness of the bodies kept them warm. A few sat up, awake and wide-eyed, watching as the newcomers passed by.

  “Nap time,” Frederick explained. “They had quite a harrowing night, so they didn’t get much sleep.”

  When they neared the back of the room, Marcelle came into view, sleeping on her back. Adrian stopped a few paces away and stared. With her clean, brushed hair spread out over a bed of broad leaves, her hands folded primly over her tunic, and her eyes closed placidly without a hint of pain, she appeared to be the portrait of a storybook goddess.

  Shellinda rose from the spot next to Marcelle and stood in front of Adrian with her hands folded behind her. “You can have my space.”

  “Thank you.” He laid a hand on her cheek. “And thank you for watching her for me.”

  As she rocked from heel to toe, a gap-toothed smile spread across her face. “You’re welcome.”

  Adrian crouched next to Marcelle and watched her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Every now and then, an arm or leg twitched, and a shallow line creased her brow.

  Frederick joined him, also crouching. “It’s like watching someone who is witnessing a great adventure. Is she battling a dragon? Chasing a scoundrel? You can try to interpret what’s going on, but you can never be sure you’re right.”

  “I remember watching Jason dreaming,” Adrian whispered. “He would sometimes punch his pillow and call it all sorts of names.”

  “Dreaming?” Pursing his lips, Frederick shook his head. “I’m not so sure Marcelle is dreaming. She told me she’s on Major Four trying t
o raise an army. This is just her body. According to her, her spirit is on a journey.”

  Adrian set a hand on Frederick’s forehead. “No fever.”

  Smiling, Frederick pushed his hand away and settled to the floor. “Relax. I’ll tell you what she said.”

  Adrian sat fully and crossed his legs. “And I have a lot to tell you, but we can’t take too long. When you hear what I think Drexel’s up to, you’ll understand.”

  After Shellinda brought bread and water to Adrian, Regina, and Sarah, Frederick settled back against a wall. “I learned about a portal leading to Starlight by following one of Prescott’s confidants to a forest glade near a gas pipeline. It’s west of the village about—”

  “No need,” Adrian said. “I know where it is. I used the same portal.”

  “Good. Well, I entered Starlight in a place called the Northlands, which is—”

  “Yep. Been there. You don’t have to describe it.”

  Frederick laughed. “Maybe you should tell my story for me.”

  For the next hour, the two brothers exchanged tales. Most of Frederick’s included his rescue efforts at the cattle camp, filling in the gaps the children couldn’t have known. Of course he ached to lead every child out of that horrific place, but taking care of four while making clandestine forays into the village without giving away the location of their refuge was already difficult and dangerous. His only hope to rescue the others lay in secretly building a larger nest of sorts until he could bring more refugees, while at the same time working to undermine the dragons by making swords and spears and giving them to the slaves, telling them to hide the weapons until a time when he would call for an uprising. So for now, it seemed that his dilemma still lay before him—let the cattle children suffer and possibly die in the camp or else bring them here where they might starve anyway. Their presence would certainly prevent him from arming the slaves, which would ruin his longterm rescue plans.

  Frederick went on to relate his conversation with Marcelle and her wild tale. The evidence that she really was a spirit roaming their home planet seemed sketchy, not completely convincing. Yet Cassabrie was able to spin up a body on Major Four. Maybe Marcelle could do the same and recruit soldiers to participate in an invasion. If anyone could do it, Marcelle could.