by Bryan Davis
“What are you going to do?”
“If you are able, you must climb on my back. I will take you to the Northlands. There lives someone who might be able to help.”
“The Northlands?” A shot of excitement worked to focus Koren’s brain. “So there really is such a place? Promoted humans really go there?”
“There is such a place.” Arxad lowered his head. “Now mount quickly.”
She stepped up to his neck and, bracing herself with her hands, crawled to his back. Grasping a protruding spine, she whisper-shouted, “I’m ready! Let’s—”
A new low voice interrupted. “Ready for what?”
Koren swiveled her head. A dragon stood by the entryway, larger than Arxad. With two beats of his enormous wings, he scooted closer. “I assume, Arxad, that you are bringing the Starlighter to me for my judgment.”
Arxad bowed his head and shifted in front of the Reflections Crystal, blocking the other dragon’s view. “Of course, Magnar. Why would I do anything else?”
“Perhaps your words confused me. I heard something about fleeing to the Northlands.”
“A plot to fly to a mythical land?” Arxad let out a chuckle. “It was merely a tale to gain the girl’s cooperation. Did I not deliver the previous Starlighter to you?”
Koren gulped. Cold sweat moistened her back. She looked at the Reflections Crystal. For some reason the sphere had turned black.
“You did, in a manner of speaking.” Magnar’s brow dipped. “Yet why do suspicions keep rising in my mind?”
“I am sure that I cannot answer that for you.” Arxad snorted a stream of smoke. “It seems that my record of loyal deeds should erase your suspicions.”
Magnar glanced toward the door. “Shall we go directly to the cooking stake? I see no reason for a formal trial.”
Koren eased to the side, ready to jump down and run.
Arxad lifted a wing and wrapped it around her body, keeping her in place. “Have you spoken to Zena?” he asked. “She has indicated her desire to have a Starlighter in her service.”
“Has she?” Magnar’s eyes pulsed crimson. “I thought she had abandoned that idea. The black egg has not created a portal as she once suggested.”
Koren struggled to free herself, but the wing held her fast. With the webbing covering her mouth, she could let out only a muffled grunt.
“I spoke to her this very night,” Arxad said, “and she seemed quite insistent.”
Magnar stretched out his wings. “Then let us visit her together. I want to hear this for myself.”
“Your trust in me is not exactly inspiring.” Arxad glanced back and forth between Magnar and Koren. She licked her lips again. Her master seemed strange—angry, threatening.
“When you earn my trust,” Magnar said, “I will give it freely.”
Arxad unwrapped the webbing and shouted, “Stay on my back, Starlighter, or I will make a torch of you!”
Koren stiffened. Her mouth grew so dry, she couldn’t speak. What could she do? If she tried to escape, one or both of these dragons would turn her into a heap of ashes. What had happened to her master? He had never been so menacing before.
Magnar beat his wings. Arxad did the same. They rose in wide circles toward the ceiling’s projected sky, once again filled with pinpoint stars and three glowing moons. As they flew by Pariah, its sad, cratered face stared at her. Constantly battered by sky rocks, Pariah’s expression changed from time to time. Tonight, he seemed melancholy and frightened, lost and alone as the other two moons cast scornful glares at him. Soon he would set below the horizon and escape from the tyranny of those greater than he.
As the Zodiac’s ceiling opened at the top of the dome, tears welled in Koren’s eyes. She was Pariah. She had messed up everything. Because of her, Lattimer was dead, and Natalla would run away to the wilderness. All was lost.
When Arxad flew through the opening, Koren grasped a spine with both arms and wept. Now she would be executed or perhaps enslaved by that strange Zena woman. In either case, the best Assignment of her life was over. Arxad, Fellina, and Xenith had never been cruel, while Zena’s black eyes spelled cruelty. She stared from dead orbs, a heart of soullessness, a living cadaver who would inflict suffering without compassion. Her obsession with the egg seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of sanity.
Koren would lose what little freedom she had, and Natalla would never learn about Promotions. She and Stephan would live with the daily threat of starvation and exposure or be captured by a slave hunter and executed, especially if they tried to rescue the cattle children.
And Koren could do nothing to stop them.
Or could she?
She slid up high and called out, “Arxad!”
The great dragon curled his neck and brought his head close. “You are to be silent!”
“Please!” Koren cried. “Please, let me speak!”
His brow loosened. “Very well, but make your words few.”
“Natalla plans to escape. She fears Promotion. Can you stop her?”
Arxad stared at her for a moment. “She deserves whatever befalls her.” With that, he straightened his neck and looked ahead.
Koren let her head droop. It seemed that every ounce of energy drained away. But she had to hang on, somehow escape and keep Natalla from going through with her plan. She just had to!
When they arrived again at the Separators’ Basilica, the circle of fiery fountains assaulted her cheeks with stinging heat and her eyes with blinding light. The flames’ whoosh sounded like a gusting breeze rattling dry leaves on creaking old branches.
Magnar landed first and shouted, “Zena, Arxad and I have brought the Starlighter. Extinguish the wall.”
As Arxad alighted on the marble floor with Koren, the towering tops of the spewing fountains descended, pulsing in a fast cadence. Seconds later, they revealed Zena, standing in front of the black egg and gripping a pair of chains and manacles. Her voice boomed over the dying whoosh and the clinking chains. “If she is truly a Starlighter, then we will allow her to decide if these bonds are necessary.”
“If the Prince wants her,” Magnar said, “he is welcome to her, but when he no longer needs her, then she must be destroyed.” Magnar reached to Arxad’s back, snatched Koren’s shirt with his teeth, and slung her toward Zena. Koren tumbled a full somersault before falling flat on her chest. A warm, slender hand slid under her chin, lifting her face. The two chains in her other hand came into view, each one tethered to an iron ring on the floor.
Her silky voice crooned. “Magnar is not the gentlest of the Separators, dear girl, but if you are a true Starlighter, you need have no fear of him. You will be assigned to me. Yet if you fail my final test, you will perish at the stake.”
Koren rose to her knees and stared at the chains, avoiding Zena’s vacant eyes. She tried to speak, but only a rasping reply came forth. “What are the chains for?”
“If you are antagonistic regarding our mission,” Zena said as she fastened a manacle around each of Koren’s wrists, “then they are for you, but I wager that you will learn to love your new Assignment, so they will not be needed for long.”
Koren rose to her feet and looked back at Arxad. With his scaly brow low, he seemed conflicted. Did he really care about her at all? Or was he just worried about his standing with Magnar? Obviously the Separator was suspicious, and Arxad didn’t want to do anything to anger his superior. Maybe he cared only about himself.
“Come.” Zena gave the chains a gentle pull, yet with enough authority to communicate the reality of the situation. Koren was a prisoner, and there would be no escape.
With hot, dry air still baking the area, Koren followed Zena toward the egg, but as they drew close, the chains tightened, forcing her to halt. The egg, just out of reach, seemed dull in the chamber’s ambient light, more like dusky soot than the polished obsidian it appeared to display earlier.
Zena waved her hand toward the dragons. “Stay beyond the barrier. She is mine now, and I will ad
minister the final test.”
Magnar shuffled back, but Arxad was already gone. Zena slid a floor panel to the side and turned a dial. The fountains of fire erupted again, creating the wall of flames and a symphony of whooshing sounds. Instantly, the air grew hotter and began to swirl. Koren flinched at the scorching breeze. Her eyes dried out, and her cheeks felt like fireplace embers. Would this be her destiny, living in a baking oven until she turned into the corpse-like woman who had enslaved her?
As soon as the fountains reached their full height, the sounds abated, and the rush of scorching wind eased. Although the air remained hot and stifling, it seemed bearable, more like the heat of a summer day than the inside of Madam Orley’s bread oven.
Above, a narrow vent had opened in the ceiling, allowing much of the torrid air to escape. Apparently this entire setup was an incubator of sorts, as well as a way to safeguard the prophetic egg. No one, except perhaps small birds, could get in, and no one, especially human slave girls, could escape.
The egg regained its shine, once again glossy black. Koren stared at her reflection. Every detail emerged in vibrant color—red hair, green eyes, and tanned furrowed brow. In spite of its blackness, the dark shell proved to be a better mirror than the glass in Xenith’s room, an echo of more than images; it seemed to reflect emotions. Koren felt her own fear and anguish bouncing back at her.
In spite of the dry air, tears glistened in her eyes. Natalla appeared and stood next to the black egg, transparent, yet as detailed as if she stood there in reality. Stephan’s ghostly image came into view. He and Natalla joined hands and walked into a dense forest, each one carrying a hefty knapsack.
“No!” Koren cried out. “You can’t go! It’s too dangerous!”
Soon a dragon confronted the pair of humans and blew a burst of fire at Stephan, setting him ablaze. As the splash of flames dispersed, the scene disappeared, leaving only the egg in her field of vision.
Koren thrust out her arms, so hard the manacles tore her wrists. “Natalla! Stephan! No!”
The clanking chains held her fast. Koren drooped her head and smeared blood on her cheek as she wept. “Oh, Natalla! Your poor brother! What will that dragon do to you?”
Zena’s warm touch combed through Koren’s hair, pulling out the band that tied it back. As the red locks fell past Koren’s shoulders, Zena crooned, “I have no more need of tests, Starlighter. You are very powerful indeed.”
Koren clenched her fists and swung at Zena, but the chains restrained her again. “I don’t want to be your slave! I need to save Natalla!”
“Oh, I am afraid that will be impossible. She will likely suffer the same fate that her escort suffered. The same fate Lattimer suffered. The same fate suffered by all humans who dare oppose our masters.” Zena let out a tsking sound. “It seems that your rebellious acts of late have resulted in tragedy.”
Koren lashed out with both arms. Her skin tore again, and blood dripped to the floor. “You she-devil! Let me go! Let me save Natalla!”
Zena shook her head sadly. “As I feared, the use of your gift has ignited a powerful emotional outburst. That is why you are in chains. Until you get to know the egg, I must protect it from you.”
“Get to know it?” Koren relaxed her knotted muscles. “What do you mean?”
Zena tilted her head. “Have you not heard its voice yet?”
Koren stared at Zena. Indeed, she had heard something from the egg earlier, a weak “Are you all right?” call. But she didn’t want to let this slave mistress know, at least not now.
“Hmm…” Zena pressed a finger against her chin. “Your reticence proves that you have heard from our dragon prince.”
Koren avoided her dark stare and focused on the egg. “Prince? How do you know it’s male?”
“Because the last Starlighter prophesied its gender long before Magnar’s mate produced it.” Zena ran a hand along the smooth shell. “When you get to know him, you will love him, and you will tell me what he has to say. All of Starlight, including humans, must know how to prepare for his arrival. Every life on our planet depends on it. Until you learn this love, you will have to remain in chains. Yet when your gift is fully awakened and you are ready to serve him as I do, not even the strongest chains would be able to drag you away from him. Only at that time will I reveal what you must do to serve as the egg’s surrogate keeper.”
Koren glared at her chains, then again at the egg, still barely out of reach. If this prince, whoever he was, charmed wicked women like Zena in order to have sycophant servants, he couldn’t be noble.
“You are hurt.” The tender, whispered voice emanated from the egg. “There is no need to torture yourself. Resistance will result in pain, while submission will bring you rest.”
Koren kept her face in the same scowling pose, not wanting Zena to know that she heard something. She searched the shiny surface. The more she stared, the more it seemed like a deep, dark hole, as if she could reach into a void.
Suddenly, the fountains diminished. Zena had stooped at the controls and was sliding the panel access back into place. “I must acquire an appropriate vestment for you,” she said. “Those dirty peasant clothes simply will not do. The prince’s attendant must be adorned properly for his imminent arrival.”
Zena rose, strode from the protected circle, and stopped at a column. “Anyone can turn the fountains on from outside the nest, but they cannot be turned off from here without a specific voice command that only I know.” She pressed a button on the column, and, as the fiery geysers began to rise once again, she offered a crooked smile. “I will return with suitable clothing. It will be up to you whether it becomes a festival gown or a funeral shroud.”
The fire streams rose above Zena’s head. Now only slices of Zena’s form were visible as she glided away and disappeared into the shadows.
Again scorching heat brushed past Koren’s face. New whooshing sounds assaulted her ears. The vent in the ceiling reopened and ushered the rising air into the night sky.
Sliding on her knees, Koren edged as close to the egg as the chains allowed. Now free to experiment, she gazed at the reflective shell and whispered, “Can you hear me?”
The lips in her reflection moved as a soft reply floated from the egg. “I am able to hear you.”
Koren touched her lips. The girl in the reflection touched hers. She hadn’t moved them, had she?
Keeping her hand to her mouth, Koren spoke between her fingers. “What is your name?”
She pressed her lips closed and watched the reflection. As the voice returned, mumbling now, she could barely decipher the words.
“Release my mouthpiece and I will answer. The first time you heard me, I spoke to your mind. Now I prefer to gain experience speaking through your lips.”
Koren jerked her hand down. “My lips? You mean, you’re talking through me?”
“I have no voice of my own, at least not yet.”
Koren stared again at her reflection. Her lips had moved along with the unborn dragon’s words. She leaned back and looked away. She couldn’t let this slave-driving prince have control over her body.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned back to the shell. Maybe the prince could provide information. Even though he had never seen the light of day, he was obviously intelligent, and maybe Zena had taught him the history of Starlight.
She cleared her throat and leaned close. “Are you ready to tell me your name?”
“I am ready, but you are not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only when you learn to love me will I tell you my name.”
Koren shook her head. This might be a lot more difficult than she had expected. “Okay, how about this? Do you know where the passageway is to the world of humans?”
For a moment, her anxious face continued staring back at her. Then, as if painted by a meticulous artist, a new image slowly formed on the shell. A male teenager, maybe close to Koren’s age, appeared. With water glistening from his brown hair, small nose,
and square jaw, he looked like he had been swimming. The area around him was dim, though light enough to reveal a rushing river behind him. Had he waded to shore after an evening dip in the water?
She strained against her manacles and looked closer. His arms were stretched toward her as if he were holding something, but his hands stayed off the screen. His eyes, too dark to discern their color, riveted on hers.
She gasped. He could see her!
His lips moved, and a voice thrummed in her brain. “Who are you?”
“Koren,” she whispered. She wanted to shout, but letting Zena know about this boy wasn’t a good idea.
When she looked again, fog had formed in front of the boy. An angry glare bent his features, and he seemed to shout, but no words came through. Soon the fog vanished. Behind him, the river overflowed its previous bank, flooding wherever it was he stood.
She leaned closer and whispered a little louder, “I’m Koren. Who are you?”
Twelve
Breathless, Jason glanced between the rising water and the wall. A light sparkled just above his fingers. The glass in the black egg grew brighter, as if someone had wiped a coat of dirt from the other side and allowed light to pass through. Inside, a redheaded girl stared at him. Her green eyes shone brightly, reflecting the same black egg in her irises. As she reached for the egg with both hands, she lifted chains attached to manacles on her wrists. Dried blood surrounded the metal rings, obvious signs that she had struggled mightily attempting to free herself. Blood smeared one cheek, and a tear tracked through the redness, drawing a thin line as it made its way toward her chin.
Jason stared at her. Could she be one of the Lost Ones? Was she a slave on the dragon planet, somehow drawn to this viewing portal between the worlds? Her pain, her sadness, her longing expression combined to draw passion back into his heart.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Her lips formed a word that looked like “Koren,” but no sound came out. Could she see him? Was she trying to communicate? If only he could call to her, tell her he was trying to rescue her. Yet now it seemed that he was the one needing rescue.