by Bryan Davis
“Shh! We must work quickly and quietly.” Visible as she moved, she pushed her hand into Adrian’s pocket, withdrew the key, and inserted it into the padlock, now dangling from a link near his stomach. With only her hands evident, no one else would notice, especially with every eye focused on Marcelle as she set her feet and continued her tirade.
“Men! Summon your courage! Dragons who would burn your children don’t deserve your allegiance! They are devils, I tell you, the worst kind of devils!”
As Magnar neared, Arxad stepped in front and spread his wings slightly, further shielding Cassabrie’s efforts. Adrian tried to see around him but to no avail. Only Marcelle’s shouts gave him any clue to what was going on.
The lock clicked open. While Cassabrie quietly unwound the chain, Adrian wiggled, trying to loosen the coil and let it slide down his body. Scorching heat still raged from head to toe, but the hope of escape spurred him on.
Cassabrie guided the last loop to the floor, set it down gently, and helped him step away from the stake. Rising to tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. “I hope to see you again someday.” With that, she disappeared.
Adrian shook his head. Hot waves still pulsed inside. He sidestepped around Arxad and looked for Marcelle. One man had grabbed her throat from the side, squelching her voice. Another followed with the viper at her back.
“The dragon murderer has escaped!” Adrian turned toward the shout. Zena had risen and was now carrying the egg toward the stake. “Capture him and chain them together! The prince craves the sphere’s energy flow!”
“Adrian!” Shellinda threw a sword low across the floor. It spun as it skidded across the tiles before stopping near Marcelle and her captors.
Adrian dashed ahead and dove for it. Sliding as he grabbed it, he sliced the leg of the man carrying Marcelle’s viper. He then leaped to his feet and looked for the black blade. It lay next to a man who writhed on the floor, holding his bleeding ankle.
“Stay where you are,” Magnar shouted, “or I will incinerate her immediately!”
“She’ll die anyway!” Adrian bent his legs to leap again, but a wave of fire surged past his eyes, blocking his path.
Magnar hurtled toward him, wings spread, mouth wide, teeth bared. Adrian dropped to the floor and let him fly overtop, snapping his jaws as he passed. He thrust the sword at the dragon’s belly but missed the soft spot. The blade clanked against armor.
His momentum unchecked, Magnar slammed into the crowd. Slaves toppled into each other. As he pivoted, Magnar spied Shellinda and shot a ball of fire at her. The sheet burst into flames. Screaming, she ran through the doorway. Scott and a girl hurried after her, and the doors closed behind them.
Adrian strangled his hilt. Not Shellinda! The poor child!
“Surrender,” Magnar roared, “or I will choose another child to kill.”
“Never!” Adrian charged. Magnar turned to the side and batted Adrian with his tail, sending him flying across the room. He crashed into a column. His head smacked the marble, and he toppled to the side.
Blinking to clear his blurry vision, Adrian looked at the glowing sphere. Trisarian’s beams had strengthened. A bell gonged from the direction of the Basilica. Was it midnight?
With the egg again in the bag strapped to her shoulder, Zena picked up the chain. While the men held Marcelle against the stake, Zena wound the links into place, binding Marcelle’s arms. She struggled again, but as the radiance pulsed, she stiffened. Her eyes clenched shut. Even the men holding her grimaced.
Zena clicked the padlock and backed away while pulling the egg from the bag. She held it in front of her with both hands as if warming it in the sphere’s glow. “Now we will see Trisarian’s full power. The prince will hatch, and a new era of dragon authority will dawn.”
Bending her neck back, Marcelle gasped and panted. She let out a pitiful wail. “Adrian! Oh, Adrian, I’m so sorry for everything I did. It was all my fault! Save yourself. Free the slaves. They’re more important than me!”
Still clutching his sword, Adrian pushed a hand against the floor and climbed slowly to his feet. His head throbbed. Shades of black pulsed in his vision. Magnar stalked toward him again, his mouth open and smoke pouring forth.
Marcelle cried out. “Adrian! I love you!” Then, with a final breath, her head drooped to her chest.
Fire gushed from Magnar’s mouth. Adrian dodged the blast and charged toward the stake, screaming an elongated, “No!”
Another loud cry reverberated throughout the courtyard, feminine, youthful, and desperate. “Adrian! I hate you! And I never want to see you again!”
The sphere turned dark. A stream of black fog poured forth and hovered over the courtyard, blocking out the moon.
Adrian skidded to a halt. The entire chamber had turned dark. Leading with an extended arm, he groped toward the stake. One way or another, he would find Marcelle.
A grinding noise sounded from above, and the ceiling began to close.
“Open it!” Magnar shouted. “The crystal must be reignited!”
The feminine voice returned. “Listen to my story, O dragons and humans, for it is a tale of heartbreak and woe. Slaves driven by whips and claws are forced to bear loads that break their backs, children burned by fire and the elements are forced to fight for crumbs and shatter their innocence, and girls thrown onto beds of despair are forced to uncover their loins for men unknown, and they weep at the loss of their maidenhood.”
The sphere brightened, revealing Marcelle’s slumped body. The glow spread slowly across the chamber, like the earliest rays of dawn.
Feeling dizzy, Adrian pushed his leaden feet forward, as if slogging through a swamp. Everyone in the room looked like statues, petrified and staring at the sphere. Arxad stood near the stake, his wings spread, as if guarding Marcelle. Magnar had propped himself high on his haunches a dozen or more paces away, his draconic mouth wide open.
Adrian pushed onward, inch by inch. Cassabrie’s gift worked all too well. The hypnotizing effect of her tale left no one untouched.
“Behold, the victims!” Cassabrie shouted.
The black cloud overhanging the courtyard streamed to the ground and reshaped into childlike beings, as black as coal and semi-transparent. Carrying pails with their backs bent, they formed a line that led from the sphere to where Magnar stood.
One by one, they dumped the contents at Magnar’s feet. Glittering gems poured out, each bursting into flames and dwindling as it struck the floor and bounced around.
“Oh, the tragedy!” Cassabrie cried. “Trust betrayed. Virtue squandered. Innocence lost. The gems of youth spoiled by the greed and cruelty of wicked taskmasters.”
Adrian threw his body forward with all his might. He stumbled into the stake, stopping his momentum by wrapping an arm around Marcelle and hanging on. His hand swiped across the lock at her chest, but where was the key now? Zena didn’t need it to snap the lock closed, so maybe …
He laid down the sword and dipped his hand into his pocket. Yes! Cassabrie had put it back! After fishing it out, he tried to push it into the lock with stiff fingers, glancing at the hypnotized dragons as he worked. He set his ear close to Marcelle’s mouth and listened for a hint of life. Nothing. No breaths at all, but maybe they were too shallow to hear.
When the lock finally popped open, he frantically jerked at the chains.
Arxad stretched out his neck and drew his head close to Adrian. “Your brother and his female companion were more fortunate. It was strange to witness a near repeat of their experience here, but this time the outcome leaves a casualty.” The dragon’s voice was strained, as if each word required every ounce of energy he could muster. “Marcelle is gone. Leave her here. I will care for her body. You must escape while you can. The Starlighter is doing this for your benefit. She cannot keep Magnar entranced for long.”
“Dead or alive,” Adrian said as he slid the chains down Marcelle’s body, “I am taking her with me. I will not leave this treasure in your clutch
es.”
“Human from another world, I urge you. She is not there. The body will be an anchor.”
Adrian hoisted Marcelle over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her legs. “Maybe so, but she’s my anchor.” He stooped, picked up his sword, and pointed it at Arxad’s snout. “I will bury her in the soil of a free world, not in dirt polluted by tyranny and the cowardice of those who support it by their silence.”
The sphere brightened further. Arxad’s eyes glittered, like a fire rekindled. “Go! Find Frederick. He might be your only hope. Hurry, before it is too late.”
Magnar shook his head as if awaking from a deep sleep.
Cassabrie’s voice again swirled in the air. “Adrian, you are a weak coward. You hate Marcelle and let her die. Because of your faithlessness, you will never see her again.”
The sphere turned black once more. Darkness filled the room. A stream of tiny sparks flowed near his eyes, Cassabrie’s whispered voice. “Follow me.”
Like a glowing ghost, she walked away, her body now visible as her cloak fanned with her movements.
“Where is he?” Magnar roared. “Ignite the sphere! The murderer must die!”
Zena shouted. “Light the lanterns!”
Adrian shifted Marcelle’s body higher on his shoulder and, bending low, skulked after Cassabrie. While he weaved through the people, the loud buzz of frenzied conversation muffled every sound. A lantern flickered to life far to his right, not enough to give him away to Magnar, but enough to reveal the slaves’ worried faces and the bare outline of the door at the perimeter wall.
As he pushed on, his body shook. His calf muscles cramped. Despair stormed through his brain. Marcelle was dead. She had given her life trying to save him. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He had sacrificed himself to save her so she could rescue the slaves. But now no one would be rescued. He had to run for his life and hide, somehow find Frederick or maybe the portal leading home where he could recruit reinforcements. But would they believe him?
Cassabrie stopped at the exit and faded out of sight. His legs still cramping, Adrian hurried to catch up. As she pulled a door open, her body brightened again, and her face clarified. With a furrowed brow and thinned lips, she spoke in a firm tone. “You must hurry. I will keep the dragons here as long as I can, but I have expended so much energy, I’m not sure what I have left.”
He ached to reach out and caress her cheek, but then again, hadn’t she contributed to Marcelle’s death? Was she even now hypnotizing him? Why hadn’t she told the lie to darken the sphere before Marcelle died? She must have had good reason, but there was no time to ask.
Giving her a nod, he slid through the opening. As it closed softly behind him, he looked into the long corridor ahead. A light shone in the distance, maybe indicating an exit to the outside.
Ignoring the pain, he pushed on. Something moved within the light. Humans? They had to be small, maybe children.
As he drew closer, the forms grew clear. Scott stood face-to-face with Shellinda on the Zodiac’s front portico, wiping her cheek with a sheet. “The burns are minor,” Scott said. “I think you’ll be all right.”
Shellinda grimaced at his touch. “They don’t feel minor.”
When Adrian arrived, he lowered Marcelle’s body to the marble floor and knelt beside her.
Scott spun toward him. “Adrian? What happened?” He dropped down and joined him at Marcelle’s other side. “Is she dead?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t check while I was in there, and I can’t stop for long.” He pressed his ear against her chest and set a hand over her lips. A series of thumps sounded, weak and irregular, but no air touched his fingers.
“She’s alive but not breathing.” Adrian slid his arms under her body. “Is there a doctor anywhere? We need someone who can open an airway.”
“Wait,” Shellinda said, reaching a hand toward him. “Give me your sword.”
“What? Why?”
Her tone sharpened. “Just give it to me!”
Adrian passed her the hilt. Kneeling between Marcelle’s legs, Shellinda lifted the hem of Marcelle’s tunic and pushed the sword underneath. Peering at the hidden blade as she pushed and pulled it in a sawing motion, she explained. “Part of Marcelle’s disguise was to look like a twelve-year-old, so—” Something popped under her shirt. “There!” Shellinda withdrew the sword. “Now she should be able to breathe.”
“Come on, warrior!” Adrian whispered while watching Marcelle’s chest. “Show me that fighting spirit!”
Marcelle heaved in a breath, then, with her eyes still closed, her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.
“That’s better,” Shellinda said as she rose to her feet with the sword in hand. “Let’s get moving.”
A spasm tightening his throat, Adrian lifted Marcelle into his arms and stood. As tremors rippled across his limbs, he took in deep breaths. He had to hurry. “Scott, can you lead me to the wilderness?”
The boy nodded. “I was already going there. Shellinda is in trouble, and Penelope can’t show her face in public, so I’m taking both of them as far as I can.”
“Penelope?” Adrian asked.
“The girl Marcelle pretended to be,” Shellinda said. “Vanna went to get her ready.”
Adrian nodded. “Then give the sword to Scott, and let’s go.”
With Scott and Shellinda leading the way, Adrian marched quickly along the street. The buildings lay dark, and not a soul stirred. Trisarian, now past its zenith, cast their hurrying shadows to the side.
Adrian walked and watched Marcelle at the same time. She lay motionless, save for her steady breathing. When they reached a cave at the outskirts of town, Shellinda ran inside while he and Scott waited.
“How is she?” Scott asked.
Adrian looked. Her eyes were now open, staring straight at him. “Marcelle,” he said as loudly as he dared, “how are you feeling?”
She said nothing. Her expression completely blank, she continued staring. What might be wrong? Arxad had said something about people with no awareness, but what was the context? It seemed that his own mind had gone through a time of fuzziness, fogging his memory.
Scott laid a hand on her forehead. “Might she have brain damage from lack of air?”
“Maybe.” Adrian shifted her higher in his arms. “It might take a while before we know.”
Soon, Shellinda returned hand in hand with another girl dressed in men’s trousers cinched at the waist with a rope. Adrian glanced back and forth between the newcomer and Marcelle. Yes, the resemblance was plain enough. She had to be Penelope.
“Are you ready?” Adrian asked.
Penelope tucked a water flask under her arm and pulled her trousers higher. “I hope so. I had to borrow these from a boy I know.”
Adrian nodded at the flask. “Do you mind if I have a little?”
“All you want,” Scott said as he reached for it. “We’ll refill it on the way.” He lifted the spout to Adrian’s mouth, and after Adrian drained the contents, Scott waved the sword. “Let’s go. I see lantern lights coming toward us.” He hurried away from the village and into the shadows cast by cliffs that housed a row of dragon caves. Penelope and Shellinda joined him, again hand in hand.
After stepping into the darkness, Adrian looked back. Bobbing lights followed on the path, still a good distance behind. Another light glided toward them through the air. Might it be a dragon patrol?
Scott picked up the pace and ran into a forest, disappearing from sight. When Adrian and the girls plunged in, Scott grabbed his arm and pulled him against a wide tree trunk. Penelope and Shellinda huddled close, shivering.
“Shhh.” Scott looked up. A winged form passed overhead. Trickles of fire fell through the canopy and draped over the path, like sections of flaming rope.
“Search lines,” Scott whispered. “They help the dragons see what’s below. We’ll have to leave the path and go straight through the forest.”
Adrian’s shoulder muscles
cramped. “How far?”
“About two hours by the path. Probably more through the underbrush.”
Adrian blew out a sigh. His arms would just have to hold out. “Lead on.”
Scott set down the sword and extended his arms. “You’ve been through a lot. Let me take a turn.”
“Can you handle the weight?”
Dappled light from Trisarian illuminated Scott’s grim expression. “For a while. I’m sure she’s a lot lighter than a cartload of stones. But when we get to the wilderness boundary, I have to leave. You’ll be on your own.”
Adrian made ready to lay Marcelle in his arms, but then pulled her back. “No. I’d better carry her.”
“But you’re wounded and exhausted,” Scott said. “I’m fresh.”
“I know.” Adrian lifted Marcelle higher and kissed her cold cheek. “I think I need to hold her close for a while.”
Scott picked up the sword and, gripping it firmly, marched into the underbrush. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Adrian followed, looking at Marcelle as often as he could. She blinked but said nothing. Her wide eyes seemed to focus on the moon, partially veiled by branches.
Pain stabbed every part of his body, but it didn’t matter. Only Marcelle mattered now. The slaves could wait. Freedom could wait. He would find his way through the wilderness and locate Frederick. Maybe Jason and their father would arrive from the Northlands, and they could mount an attack together.
While Scott paused to cut away an obstructing branch, Adrian pulled Marcelle close again and whispered, “Thank you for coming to save me. I will never forget your love and courage for as long as I live.”
Light filled Marcelle’s vision, a cyclone of radiance, swirling around her … swirling, ever swirling. Soon, darkness streamed in and painted horizontal stripes across the radiance from the top of her field of vision to the bottom. As the cyclone contracted, the stripes drew closer and wrapped around her body, like a snake squeezing its prey.
She glanced to the side. A twin cyclone spun through the same process. Dark lines coiled around another victim, apparently female, but in the mix of light and darkness, her identity remained unclear.