Diviner (12 page)

Her tears flowed freely. “What a fool I am! What a stubborn, self-important fool! I deserve a whip on my back. Let it strike me until I learn my lesson and —”

“Release the whip, Elyssa.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Release the whip.”

Elyssa scanned the sky, squinting in the midday sunlight. The voice was audible, not something in her mind. Had the Creator decided to respond in a new way? She had never heard such a clear voice before, and this one was feminine. If the Creator was really female, that would be a shock to the clergy back home.

As if ending an eclipse, a bright sphere slid away from the front of Solarus and drifted toward her. With the sky as its backdrop, its size seemed impossible to gauge, but when it drew closer, a human female appeared at the lower part of the center, providing more perspective. Five times as tall as the girl, the floating, transparent ball settled into a glide at Fellina’s left, just behind her wing.

“Exodus has risen!” Fellina called, her strokes seeming to take on new energy. “If the Starlighter is willing to help, our chances of success are much better.”

“Who-eee!” Tibalt shouted. “We got us an angel! The Creator answered my prayers!”

Elyssa squinted at the girl hovering within the sphere. Colorful light flashed across her face, distorting her features, but her flowing blue cloak, flaming red hair, and vibrant green eyes shone through. “Koren?”

She nodded. “I will be with the three of you. I have seen the tales, so I know what has happened and what we must do. When we draw close to the grinding mill, I will give further instructions. Fellina, do not look my way, and close your ears to my words for now. If you watch or listen, you will likely be unable to fly.”

A hundred other questions begged to be asked, but Elyssa swallowed back all but one. “What did you mean when you told me to release the whip?”

A girl, perhaps six years old, materialized in front of Elyssa, taking Tibalt’s place. With her torso bare and her hands clinging to the spine, she twisted and looked into Elyssa’s eyes. Three angry welts, red and oozing blood, marred her back. Tear tracks smudged her cheeks. Her face seemed familiar, like herself when she was that age. Then, just as quickly as the girl had appeared, she vanished.

Koren drifted forward over Fellina’s passengers and then down until the edge of the sphere drew nearly within reach as it hovered in front of Tibalt. “You have seen the backs of the cattle children,” Koren said, “and the stripes that prove the cruelty of their taskmasters. When you fell in the Zodiac’s lower level, you gathered stripes of your own, allowing you to empathize with the plight of the children.

“Yet you are proving to be a cruel taskmaster yourself. You lacerate your soul with stripe after stripe, punishing yourself for crimes that are nothing more than inability to perform beyond your limitations. You whip yourself for lacking experience, for forgetting to pray, for not fully understanding the plight of the cattle children, and yet the Creator finds no fault in a single one of these mistakes.

“He fashioned you with a lack of knowledge and experience, and he delights in guiding you along this journey called life where you collect jewels of wisdom. Why do you punish yourself with every jewel you gather? Why are you ashamed when you learn, when the light of truth shines on your ignorance? It is not a sin to be ignorant unless you knowingly choose it, but now that you are enlightened, feeling shame in the midst of a shower of gems will darken your soul.”

Heat from Exodus’s radiance pulled sweat from Elyssa’s pores. The whip of shame rose like a curling serpent, ready to slice her back once again—shame for feeling shame, a trap, an endless cycle. She clenched her eyes shut. No! She was human! She was no more guilty for being finite than those poor cattle children were for being slaves.

Koren continued, her tone hardening. “The guilty are those who see the light and shun it, cover it, imprison it. Because the light exposes their evil deeds, they lash out at those who carry the lanterns of enlightenment. The guilty snuff the lives of the lantern bearers along with the flames. Truth is a stench in their nostrils, and light-bringers sting their souls. They cannot bear the thought that someone basks in joy while they feel only pain. The only way they know to ease the pain is to extinguish the light.”

“I recognize that from somewhere,” Elyssa said. “Is it in the Code?”

Koren smiled. “More or less. I altered the words somewhat to fit the situation.”

Tibalt wavered from side to side. “Something’s making me woozy.”

Elyssa reached out and steadied him. “Don’t listen! Close your eyes!”

“Will do.” Tibalt hunkered low with his hands over his ears. “Go ahead. I can’t hear. But that Exodus thing is as hot as a ball of lightning.”

Elyssa released Tibalt and settled back, no longer gripping Fellina’s spine. “What about me? Why am I not affected?”

“I don’t know,” Koren said, pursing her lips. “You seem to be quite gifted yourself, so maybe you’re immune. Since I am now Starlight’s primary source of history, perhaps I can find a tale that will provide more information, but until then I’m glad we can talk without any hypnotic effects.”

“Sounds good,” Elyssa said. “Since you’re the history expert, can you show me what’s been happening to Jason?”

Koren spread out her cloak. “And I will also tell you a story about a certain dragon who guards those condemned to the mill. She is a foul creature, yet she must be protected at all costs.”

eight

 

J
ason lay on his stomach at the rim of the basin. Covered by the branch he had cut, maybe no one would notice him. Two dragons had flown overhead during the hours he had watched and waited, but neither stopped to investigate. One might have been Fellina, but it seemed too risky to get up and check. A mistake could be costly.

The spot he had chosen appeared to be a good one. Directly below this point, the wall of the basin sloped toward the floor less severely than it did anywhere else. An agile human could scramble down, but climbing back up would be far more difficult, and both directions would be impossible considering who patrolled the floor.

Below, Julaz circled the grinding monolith for the hundredth time, pausing once to reignite the mounted torch with her breath. Her shuffling feet and tail had swept away every trace of footprints on the sandy bottom, and with no sign of human movements, there wasn’t a way to find out who might still be alive. Yet Julaz continued her steady march. If the prisoners had all escaped or died, why would she be standing guard?

Jason looked at the holding cage in the wall’s recess. Still no signs of prisoners—no hands clutching the matrix of wooden slats, no moans of pain.

Slowing her pace, Julaz yawned. Then, like a cat, she turned in a circle twice before settling to the ground.

Jason wriggled closer.
Yes! Go to sleep, you lazy beast. All I need is a few minutes.

Sweat trickled from his forehead to his cheek. Jason brushed his arm across his face, but it didn’t help much. His sleeveless undershirt lacked enough material to absorb sweat or protect him from the dirt or prickly heather. Scratches and smudges covered his bare arms from wrists to shoulders, uncomfortable but unavoidable annoyances.

After a few minutes, Julaz’s body swelled and deflated in a steady rhythm. Jason glanced at the sky. Still no other dragons. Apparently these sisters weren’t as vigilant as Fellina had said, at least when they were separated. Maybe they policed each other.

He pushed the branch aside, rose with it in his grip, and tightened his sword belt. Holding his breath, he stepped over the edge and set his foot on the slope. He then leaped into a run, holding the branch out to the side with one hand and his scabbard against his hip with the other. With each step, he sprang to the next, careful not to let his boots slide. When he reached bottom, he continued his run with several soft footfalls until his momentum eased.

He spun toward Julaz, twenty paces to his right. She slept at the base of the monolith, apparently undisturbed.

The cage lay thirty paces to his left. Would it be better to check for prisoners first or to slay the dragon in case she awakened? Hacking open the slats would be noisy. She wouldn’t sleep through such a commotion.

Tiptoeing, Jason hurried to Julaz. Her body lay curled like a kidney bean, and her long neck snaked over her wing and flank. With her underbelly hidden, it would be impossible to deliver a fatal blow, and her thick armor meant that chopping her eyes or neck couldn’t guarantee anything beyond sending her into a foul mood. So how could he open the prison without waking her?

At the corner of his eye, the torch’s flame flickered. He glanced between it and the branch. Burning the door would probably be quieter than chopping it. It might be worth a try.

He pulled the torch from its bracket and skulked toward the cage, frequently checking the sky for Mallerin. When he arrived, he grasped one of the slats and peered inside. “Anyone in there?” he whispered.

“I am,” a quiet voice responded. A shadow appeared, and the boy with the withered arm approached, a teenager with sinewy biceps but no meat on his ribs. “Who are you?”

“Jason. What’s your name?”

“Basil. Are you —”

“I’m a friend, and I’m going to get you out of here.” Basil pointed at the sword on Jason’s hip. “With that?”

“With this,” Jason said, lifting the torch. “How many others are in there?”

“Just another boy my age and a man. The man’s asleep, but I can wake him up.”

Jason gripped the slat more tightly, digging the edge into his skin. The man who wrestled his father to the ground had likely turned the handle that crushed his bones. Taking a deep breath, Jason calmed his anger. The man had been forced to do it. It was still wrong, but cruel whips can drive men to commit evil acts. Survival, even in the midst of torture, is sometimes a sadistic motivator.

“Okay,” Jason said. “Make sure they’re both ready to leave quietly, then come back here. You’re going to help me burn this gate.”

Basil disappeared into the shadows for a moment before returning, breathless. “What do I do?”

After dropping the branch at the base of the gate, Jason held the torch in front of the cage. “Grab this. When I wave at you, light the branch.”

Basil grasped the torch. “How will we get out of this pit?”

“I’m still working on that.” Jason ran on the balls of his feet to the grinding stone, grabbed the ladder leading to the top, and carried it to the slope. He leaned the ladder against the loose soil and wedged it in place. The highest rung dug into the face of the wall about eight feet short of the top. A healthy adult could leap from that rung, grab the rim, and muscle up to solid ground, but the boys would need help.

A scuffling noise made Jason twist toward Julaz, his whole body tensing. She lifted her head and scratched behind her ear with a back claw, but her eyes stayed closed. Then, after lowering her head again, she resumed her rhythmic respiration.

Jason drew his sword. They had to hurry. Maybe he could stay low and battle the dragon if necessary, while the man climbed and pulled the boys to safety. Then he could help from below if anyone had trouble reaching the rim.

Taking another deep breath, Jason waved his sword. Basil set the torch against the branch and held it there. A column of gray smoke shot upward. Leaves crackled. The flames took hold and began to eat away at the lowest slats.

Jason scanned the sky. Still no patrolling dragon in sight, but if the fire got any noisier, this escape attempt would be snuffed out in a hurry.

A snort sounded, then a growl. Jason whipped around just as Julaz launched a ball of flames toward him. He ducked, rolled, and vaulted back to his feet. A sharp sting burned his left forearm, and smoke curled up from a black mark near his elbow.

Grimacing, Jason backpedaled toward the prison. Julaz beat her wings and gave chase. A loud clatter sounded behind him, but he couldn’t look. He had to keep his eyes on the fire-breathing maw and hope for an opening to attack her underbelly.

Something on the ground caught his heel. He stumbled backwards and landed on his bottom. Julaz lunged, her mouth wide and her pointed teeth bared. Light surged from behind Jason, and flames leaped in front of him. A man thrust the burning branch into Julaz’s mouth and shoved it deep into her throat.

Jason stared.
Father!
How could it be?

As Julaz reared up, backing away and screaming, Jason leaped to his feet and charged. He lunged past his father and drove the sword into Julaz’s vulnerable spot, though not very deeply. He twisted the blade and yanked it back out. She screamed again and batted him with a wing, sending him flying. He landed on his side and slid, his sword between his body and the sandy ground. The blade sliced into his ribs, and the hilt jerked away from his hand. When he finally stopped, pain throttled his body. His vision blurring, he rose to all fours and crawled toward Julaz, groping for the sword.

Ahead, Edison attacked Julaz with a flaming slat. She crunched down on the branch and spat it out, then swung a wing, missing his head by mere inches. The boys threw burning shards at her, but they just bounced off her scales.

Jason struggled to his feet. Leading with his sword, he staggered toward the battle. He ducked under another salvo of flames and rammed the sword into the she-dragon again, deeper this time.

While Julaz toppled backwards, hot liquid gushed over Jason’s feet, acidic and scalding. He leaped away, jumping from foot to foot to cool his stinging ankles. Julaz thudded to the ground in a choking cloud of dust, her belly skyward, her wound oozing steaming liquid.

Jason’s father jerked his sword away and limped to Julaz’s side, where her neck sprawled across the ground. He hacked near the base of her skull again and again. With each strike, Julaz’s body shuddered. Finally, her head fell away. Her body continued to writhe, her tail curling in the sand and her wings jerking.

The two boys drew close to Jason, one on each side. Their mouths agape, they stared at the slain dragon.

With his back still toward Jason, Edison let his shoulders sag. Then, heaving a sigh, he turned and limped back, his feet landing heavily and the sword’s tip dragging. Even in Jason’s blurry vision, his father’s barrel frame and wispy gray hair drew a beautiful portrait — the heroic warrior, Edison Masters.

Ignoring the pain, he dashed ahead and embraced him. “You’re alive! I thought they put you through that grinder.”

His father wrapped strong arms around Jason and pressed his cheek against his hair. “Julaz was angry with the other fellow for allowing me to get to the ladder. She grabbed him and threw him into the mill and ground him up herself.”

He drew back and pushed the sword’s hilt into Jason’s hand, his face becoming grim. “Fortunately for us, his body got lodged too tightly in the grinder, so she was going to work on dislodging it when Mallerin returned.”

“Speaking of Mallerin.” Jason looked up. Apart from a few dark clouds hanging near the southern horizon, the sky remained clear. “We’d better get out of here before she shows up.”

Edison touched Jason’s side. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. It’s soaked through.”

With the touch, pain roared back to Jason’s ribs. Trying to hide a grimace, he lifted his shirt, peeling away the bloody material. A vertical gash in his side crossed every rib.

Basil whispered, “Ouch.” The other boy nodded.

Edison shook his head. “If that hurts as bad as it looks —”

“It does, but we can’t worry about that now. We have to get out of here. There’s a forest nearby where we can find shelter. I left the girl there.” With his lower legs still burning, Jason walked gingerly toward the ladder. Elyssa’s pendant swayed with his unsteady gait, brushing against his chest. As he neared the ladder, an image of her battling from atop Xenith came to mind, her expression warrior-intense as she swung her sword. Had she escaped with Fellina? If so, where was she now? She wouldn’t stand for hiding somewhere, waiting for him to show up. If she was able, she would be back.

He grasped a head-high rung and waited for the others to catch up. “Father, can you go first and help these two? I can push from down here.” As sweat trickled into his wound, he winced. “And I might need help myself.”

“Not a problem.” While Jason steadied the ladder, Edison climbed up and stood on the top rung. He leaped and grabbed the rim with both hands, then swung his legs to the top. Now on knees and one hand, he reached the other hand down. “Basil, you first.”

As Basil climbed, his crippled arm pressed against his stomach, the one-legged boy watched Basil’s progress pensively, his ragtop head motionless and his sweaty torso smeared with dirt and soot.

“What’s your name?” Jason asked.

He kept his stare in place. “Oliver.”

“Pleased to meet you, Oliver. I’m—”

“Jason Masters. I know. Your father told us stories about you.” Oliver turned and looked Jason in the eye.

“Thank you for saving us. You’re as strong and brave as he said you are.”

The heat in Jason’s legs roared up his body and into his cheeks. “You’re pretty brave, yourself. When you started throwing those —”

“Uh-oh.” Oliver pointed at the sky. “Mallerin.”

Jason spun. The huge she-dragon had just crested the ridge between them and the village and now swooped toward them, only seconds away. “Father!” he hissed.

“Any ideas?”

“Just one. Give me your sword.”

Jason gave the sword an underhanded toss. His father snatched it out of the air and rose to his full height. Waving his arms wildly, he shouted. “Mallerin! I chopped your sister’s head off! Come and get me!” He ran along the perimeter of the basin toward a head-shaped boulder about one-hundred paces away, his limp hardly noticeable.

As Mallerin swung toward the boulder, Jason scrambled up the ladder. “Basil, wait at the top. Oliver, can you follow me?”

Oliver threw his walking stick to the side. “Just watch.”

“Great!” Jason scrambled up the rungs. When he reached Basil, he pushed his head between the boy’s legs and climbed to the top rung with him now safely on his shoulders. Basil grabbed the rim with his good arm and braced the elbow of his crippled arm. With help from Jason, he hoisted himself up, then turned and reached down. “Come on, Oliver. You can do it.”

Jason turned and laid his back against the wall. “I’ll help you climb over me.”

Oliver grabbed Jason’s belt and shoulder, using them as ladder rungs. His foot dug into Jason’s waist, stretching his skin and widening the open wound.

Jason bit down hard on his lip.
Just hang on. He’ll be up in a second.
With a quick glance, he found his father, slashing at the air from behind the boulder while Mallerin flew around, diving and shooting fire, then backing off and attacking again.

Once Basil pulled Oliver up, Jason leaped, grabbed the boys’ outstretched hands, and rode their pull until he reached the top. He pointed at the trees where he had left Solace. “Basil, help Oliver run to the woods. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The boys took off. Jason dashed around the rim, clutching his side. Mallerin stood on top of the boulder. Her foreclaw wrenching his father’s arm, she lifted him effortlessly and held him in front of her snout as if ready to roast him with a fiery snuff. Edison thrashed and squirmed but to no avail.

“Mallerin!” Jason shouted. “Let him go.
I
killed your sister!”

She turned and spat a wad of fire in his path, igniting a small blaze in the heather. “Come no closer, human!”