Diviner (18 page)

“Deference, do you have a bandage, a long, wide one I can use to bind Jason’s ribs?”

“I’ll see what I can find.” Deference turned and ran across the roots.

When the sparks filled her hands, Elyssa poured them over Jason’s wounds. Massaging gently with her fingers, she rubbed the energy into his skin while pushing some through the hole and the gash. He grimaced with every touch and groaned with every push.

Words flowed into her mind. “I’m sorry, Jason, but without pain there can be no healing. Without suffering there can be no renewal. Without sacrifice there can be no freedom. Seeds fall to the ground in every farmer’s field, but unless they are buried and die, they never sprout to new life. Pain spawns growth. There is no other way.”

As she continued the massage, her arms weakened, and dizziness swam through her head, but she continued scooping stray sparkles and gathering them over the wounds. The pendant glowed, growing hot enough to warm her skin through her shirt. The bone began to recede. Blood poured over her fingers. Jason’s gurgles deepened.

Furrowing her brow, she infused passion into her voice. “Jason, hear me. I have told you many times that you are my warrior. You have rescued me from uncountable dangers, risking your life to save mine. I love you for that, of course, but I love you because of who you are. Even if you could never perform another heroic act, even if I had to care for you like this every day, I would still love you.” Tears welled and began spilling to her cheeks. The pendant’s glow brightened, and her strength continued to wane. “You’re my hero, Jason Masters, because you never give up seeking to save the lost. Even in fields of thorns, you search for a rose. In darkness, you always find a light. And in the lowest level of a dungeon, in a cold cell forsaken by all, you found me in chains, in the midst of my own filth. Although you should have been repulsed at the sight of me, you looked upon me with eyes of love. And you set me free.”

The flow of blood ebbed. The hole and gash began to close, and the bruise shrank. Breathing a sigh, she continued. “Do you know what else I learned, Jason? While the white dragon was teaching me how to use the healing tree, he told me I sprouted from a hybrid seed. As a Diviner, I have some Starlighter gifts. I am able to distribute Starlight’s energy, which is what I am doing to you. As you absorb it, you will be healed, and your mind will be enabled to receive the wisdom of the ages. Alaph said that this wouldn’t work on most people, only on those who have prepared themselves to receive it, those who long for light in the midst of darkness.”

The hole sealed completely. The bruise shrank further, its color fading.

Elyssa lifted her hands—weak and feeble. Every spark had been absorbed, but it was likely enough. Her fingers dripping blood, she gazed at Jason’s face. He breathed easily now, and color slowly returned to his cheeks.

She touched the pendant — still warm, though the glow had faded. She turned it to the side where two open hands had been carved and gazed at the escaping dove flying just above them. With tears flowing, she caressed the dove with a finger. “Freedom is the greatest gift of all.”

Blood smeared the surface, but cleaning it would have to wait. It was time to go and care for another fallen warrior. As she turned, Deference arrived with a long stream of cloth trailing from her hand. “It took a long time,” she said. “It’s hard to carry things very far when you don’t have a body.”

“True.” Elyssa laid a hand over Deference’s dimming chest. “But you can do almost anything as long as you have a heart.”

twelve

 

H
olding the map in one hand and a flaming torch in the other, Randall followed Miller’s Creek as it wound through a dense forest. Carrying a hefty backpack of supplies and dressed in a heavy cloak, winter trousers, two tunics, and thick boots, his march drew sweat from his pores. Although autumn had come to Mesolantrum, the air hadn’t chilled enough to make this outfit comfortable. Promises of frigid winds on Dracon had prompted a stealthy visit to Jason’s home to grab extra clothing for himself and Orion, and now a dose of frosty weather would be a welcome blessing. Randall had also taken his mother to Jason’s commune, a safe refuge from the palace conspirators.

Randall glanced at the map, hastily drawn by Marcelle with a charcoal pencil that he kept in an inner-tunic pocket. The portal lay at the center of a clearing just beyond the boundary to the Forbidden Zone, but with the creek meandering close to several clearings, finding the right one near the midnight hour might be a challenge.

He marched on, reasonably unimpeded by foliage. Since Marcelle and a few others had been there not long ago, a narrow path cut a swath through the undergrowth, and recently hacked branches lay here and there. That helped. Maybe the path ended at the portal. Time would tell.

Still, finding the right clearing had its dangers. Marcelle said the portal should be open and that it would lead to a snow-blanketed forest. A person could walk through without any genetic key or crystalline peg, meaning he could stumble into Dracon without warning. Marcelle hadn’t said that coming back to Major Four would be just as easy, so staying near the edge of each clearing made sense.

Randall imagined her marching next to him. Her experience would have been a boon, but staying behind to get the troops ready was more important. Since the army had no experience with dragons, they could benefit greatly from her confidence.

After squeezing between two bramble bushes, the path opened into a grassy circle. He drew the torch close to the map. This could be the one. Either way, it was time to signal the dragons.

Looking up at the sky, he waved the torch. Clouds veiled the moon and stars, a perfect night for getting two dragons from the dungeon to the outer limits of Mesolantrum without being seen. After some discussion, he and Marcelle had decided that it made more sense to keep the dragons’ presence a secret. Not for fear for their safety—who on Mesolantrum would attack a dragon?—but because too many lives rode in the balance to risk a panic. Marcelle’s influence and the letter from Orion should be enough to order the troops to the portal later.

Maybe.

He slid the backpack to the ground and waved the torch again. The previous clearing, where the dragons now hid, lay hundreds of feet back. No breeze passed through the forest, and no sounds disturbed the silence. With the circle of grass at least fifty feet wide, this clearing was big enough for them to land, but they would have to be careful to stay near the clearing’s boundary as planned.

A loud crack sounded from above. Magnar crashed through the branches at the edge of the clearing and flew clumsily to the ground, dropping Orion as he leveled off for a landing. While Arxad descended, Randall dashed to Orion and helped him rise.

Orion brushed off his borrowed tunic and trousers, both too large for his narrow frame. “Stupid beast! Why are you so much clumsier than Arxad?”

Magnar stomped toward him, his head rearing back like an adder ready to strike. “How dare you talk to me that way, human! Now you will burn!”

“No!” Arxad beat his wings and shot between Orion and Magnar. “Killing him is not wise.”

“Why not? He has signed the letters. What further need of him do we have?”

“You see?” Orion said, pointing at Magnar. “The dragons want nothing more than power. They plan to kill us when they no longer need us.” He brushed a lingering twig from his shoulder. “That is exactly why I insulted him, to raise his ire. It was a test.”

Randall glanced at his photo gun at one hip and his sword at the other. Either one would dispatch this sniveling liar and stop the bickering, but if Orion happened to be right, neither weapon would be enough against an extane-empowered dragon, and maybe two if Arxad decided to take Magnar’s side. Maybe the right words would cool everyone down. “Orion, Magnar has been a slave master for longer than we’ve been alive. He’s not used to humans insulting him. He just lost his temper. You saw Arxad flying to your defense. That should mean something, right?”

“Perhaps.” Orion shook a finger at Magnar. “But we shouldn’t turn our back on this one.”

Arxad shoved Orion with a wing. “Do not take my protective ways as an excuse to be insolent. Since your signature is so powerful, you are still of value to us, so my protection might not be as benevolent as you imagine.”

“Okay,” Randall said, raising his voice, “I think we’d better get back to the task at hand.” He held out the map. “According to this, it looks like we’re in the right place, or at least pretty close. This clearing matches Marcelle’s description.”

All four turned toward the center of the grassy circle and stared, as if waiting for something to happen. Only a slight crackle from Randall’s torch interrupted the eerie quiet. Moonlight broke through the cloud bank, illuminating a thin fog that crawled along the grass like a creeping ghost.

Randall stuffed the map into his trousers pocket and marched forward. Someone had to break the trance. “So do I just walk across the circle?”

“Wait!” Arxad called.

Randall halted. “What’s wrong?”

Arxad took in a long draught of air, his tongue darting out and in. “I smell the Northlands’ evergreens, so the portal is clearly open, but I sense something else, not an odor. More of a feeling, a familiar presence.”

“Dragons can sense a presence?” Randall asked.

“Not usually. Because of certain duties I have as a priest, this is a presence only I would recognize. She has become an ally in some ways, though she is unpredictable.”

“She?” Randall and Magnar said at the same time.

Arxad bobbed his head. “Perhaps it would be better to wait a moment.”

The fog swept toward the center of the clearing. As it began a slow spin, it thickened and rose in a column. Streams of moonlight mixed into the misty cyclone, brightening and taking on the shape of a female human, though without facial details.

Magnar’s ears flattened. “Could it be?”

Randall drew his sword and took a step closer. “Who is it?”

“No need for alarm,” Arxad said. “She will not hurt you. Magnar, however, would do well to hide himself.”

“I do not fear this apparition,” Magnar growled. “You told me yourself that her power here is limited.”

“Perhaps, but she knows this portal better than I do, and because you killed her, she will be less likely to help us if you are here.”

Randall gave Arxad a quizzical look.
Killed her?

Magnar grumbled something unintelligible, then added, “Very well. I will circle the area and return when she is gone. Then I will follow you through the portal.” With a beat of his wings, he took off and faded into the darkness.

As soon as the breeze died away, Randall stepped closer to the spinning girl. Her rotations created a breeze of her own that wafted over his body. He shivered. “The Northlands air must really be cold to cut through what I’m wearing.”

“It is not merely the air you feel,” Arxad said. “You will see.”

As the radiant ballerina continued, her toes drilled into the grass, drawing dirt into her vortex. Near the bottom, whiteness transformed into flesh tones. Two limbs and a pair of feet took shape. As the upwelling soil continued to churn, the particles seemed to stitch together a flowing white dress — a calf-length skirt, loose sleeves that reached just past her elbows, and a lacy neckline that lay across her collarbone. A cloak materialized, fanning out around her spinning body.

The dirt rose to her face and coated the shimmering fog with multicolored skin. Shining green eyes pierced the turbid mist, and as the particles settled a thin, alabaster face appeared. Finally, the spinning slowed, and the remaining dirt transformed into streaming red hair that draped her shoulders. When she stopped, her dress and cloak drew toward her body, accentuating her scant frame. She wobbled in place for a moment, then blinked at her audience.

“Witch,” Orion whispered, barely audible.

Randall sheathed his sword and gave her a bow. “Greetings. My name is Randall.”

“Yes, I know.” She offered a graceful curtsy. “And my name is Cassabrie.”

“Welcome to Mesolantrum.”

“Thank you.” Cassabrie walked toward him, tipping slightly.

Randall leaped forward and grabbed her forearm. “Let me help you.” Cold shot through his body, tightening his muscles, but he managed to keep his hand from locking around her arm. As soon as she seemed stable, he let go and flexed his fingers, staring at her. Arxad said Magnar had killed her. Could it be true? He held the torch closer to Cassabrie’s face. With her pale skin and gaunt cheeks, she certainly looked like a cadaver. But how could a dead girl speak and walk?

He drew the flame away, blinking as the memory of another corpse-like form resurrected. Marcelle had the same ghostly aspect and the same cold touch. What could it mean? Might she also be dead?

Cassabrie walked straight to Arxad and, with a grim countenance, addressed him in a formal tone. “I have news from Alaph.”

“Then speak,” Arxad said, giving her a nod. “His servant is listening.”

“We are to go through the portal at once and close it behind us. When the troops arrive, I will open it again.”

Arxad kept his stare focused on her. “I assume you are already aware of the consequences of such an action.”

She nodded. “We must leave your brother behind.”

“Leave him behind?” Randall shook his head. “We can’t do that. Once the troops are gone, he’ll take over the region, maybe the entire planet.”

Orion pointed at Randall. “You see? I told you they were up to mischief. They planned all along to eliminate our defenses so they could rule our world. Sending Magnar away was merely posturing, and this creature’s story is a fable, a way to get us to accept Magnar’s abandonment here.”

“Is that so?” Randall eyed Cassabrie. She seemed to delay her materialization until Magnar had left, as if knowing Arxad would suggest his departure. Everything this girl said and did seemed perfectly planned. Yet, Orion’s logic still had a flaw. “If I were Cassabrie and wanted to secretly keep Magnar here, I wouldn’t have told anyone ahead of time. I would have led everyone to the portal and then locked him out. Telling us her wishes beforehand proves her trustworthiness.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Cassabrie said, “but regardless of motive or trustworthiness, we cannot allow Magnar into Starlight. His presence in the Northlands will have disastrous consequences.”

“I understand,” Arxad said, nodding. “Is there a way he can return safely to the Southlands?”

“You could use the crystal for the mesa portal from the Starlight side.” Cassabrie angled her head and looked at Arxad’s underbelly. “Where is it? I thought it might be wedged between your scales somewhere.”

“I have it.” Randall touched his pocket. “I’ll give it to Arxad when he needs it.”

“How will Magnar and I coordinate our meeting there?” Arxad asked. “I will not be able to communicate with him.”

“We can work on that later. For now, Alaph wishes for Magnar to stay here until he has served his purpose in this world.” Cassabrie raised a hand. “The Creator as my witness, I received this command directly from his highest prophet.”

“Another ploy,” Orion said. “Perhaps it is Arxad she is manipulating. If he is an honest dragon, as you all insist, he is probably more easily duped than most of his species. An appeal to a heavenly authority is a common scheme when trying to influence a person of integrity.”

Randall pointed at him. “As you should know. I’ve seen
you
do it enough times.”

“Don’t be a fool, boy!” Orion’s growl matched his contorted face. “Whether or not you trust me is irrelevant. Do you trust the fate of our world to a dragon and a … a dead girl? How can she be anything but a sorceress?”

A cold draft blew from Cassabrie’s direction. “I am not a sorceress. I am a Starlighter.”

“A Starlighter? Clearly a pretty label to disguise the beast within. Whatever she is, she cannot be holy.”

Arxad looked up at the sky. “We have no time to argue. Magnar will soon wonder why we are delaying.”

“How do you lock the portal?” Randall asked.

“In the same way the portal in the mine is locked.” Cassabrie pointed at the ground and moved her finger as if drawing in the air. “There is a line of crystalline pegs. If you pull one out, the portal closes, and only one is loose enough to dislodge.”

Randall touched his pocket again, feeling the peg Arxad had given him. “Let me pull it out. I want control of the portal.”

“You already have the mesa portal crystal,” Arxad said, his ears pinned back. “Do you demand control of every access? Your arrogance and distrust threatens our alliance.”

Randall eyed the dragon. He was right. If the humans wouldn’t trust the dragons, why should the dragons trust the humans? Sighing, he withdrew the mesa peg. “You take this one. You’ll need it anyway to let Magnar back into Starlight. Just let me control who comes and goes here. Marcelle won’t want a dragon deciding.”

Cassabrie looked at Arxad. “It’s a reasonable compromise, don’t you think?”

“I agree. Put it between my scales, then let us depart.”

Cassabrie took the peg and wedged it over the vulnerable spot on Arxad’s underbelly. Once in place, she whispered into Arxad’s ear. He replied, also whispering.

Randall eyed their facial expressions. They displayed no hint of stealth. Maybe Cassabrie was simply asking if the peg was comfortable.

As soon as the conversation ended, she hurried to the center of the clearing. “When you see me disappear, then walk through.”

Randall nodded. “Proceed.”

“What?” Orion squeaked. “Are you out of your—”