Dragon Defense (Heirs to the Throne Book 3) (25 page)

Ishtarek heaved a great sigh when he realized the missiles failed.  His crew cheered openly until Ishtarek turned a reptilian stare in their direction. 

“This does not change our orders.”  His voice burst their good humor.  He moved away from the controls, ignoring his shipmates as the radio crackled to life.  It sputtered a message from Drako. 

Ishtarek glared at the communications officer.  “Our orders stand.  Keep radio silence until we hear from Fremont.”  The man frowned.

The commander stomped toward his cabin, his tail swishing.  Inside the chamber, he allowed his crest to stand erect as he hissed with anger.  On his world such a sound sent prey scampering into hiding but nothing responded today. 

“Why did I accept this assignment?”  He glanced at the ship’s clock and prayed Fremont would change his mind before the next deadline

Jarrack awakened to see the frightened faces of priests staring at him in silence.  He gazed at his hands, which looked wrinkled, and fingered the deep lines etched in his face.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Brother, you lie in the chapel.  We believed you dead.”

Jarrack felt confused.  “Was it a long illness?” He tried to remain patient but grew agitated.

“No.  It came on suddenly from tainted food.  Many brothers sickened and survived, but you always enjoyed your portions.”

Jarrack looked at his ample stomach.  “Yes, I love to eat.  Please bear with me, brothers.  My memory is clouded.  Where is this chapel?”

“It’s the chapel at Havenshire.” 

Jarrack realized his mind escaped from the blasted box, but why did he end up in this old body? 
That black witch sent me here!
 
Jarrack pushed his great bulk from the altar.  “I must speak with King Donovan.”

The brothers looked aghast.  He moved toward the door, but a tall brother with penetrating eyes stepped into his path. “Donovan is dealing with a crisis, and you’re just recovered, Your Holiness.  Do not press yourself to attend matters of state.”

Jarrack raised his eyebrows in surprise and examined his clothing and ring.  His robes were fashioned from red brocade and embroidered with strands of gold.  A red ruby glowed in the opulent ring.  He knew which body he occupied and stood thinking.  “Perhaps you’re right. I should rest and reflect on…events.  Please ask King Donovan to visit my chambers.”

The tall brother scrutinized his face. “Of course, the message will be delivered.”  A mere glance from the tall priest set brothers in motion.  “I’ll accompany you to your rooms, Father.” 

Jarrack followed the tall priest in a slow, measured pace, testing the sureness of his step and the strength of this new body.  He examined the vaulted ceiling while the tall priest peered into his face.  Jarrack gave him a benign smile.  “Allow time for my mind to clear.  A brush with death is most confusing.”

“Most assuredly, Holiness,” he muttered and averted his gaze. 

Jarrack sensed doubt and confusion as a tendril of his mind touched the tall brother.  It was an unconscious action, as natural as breathing, but the shock of the contact vibrated through the body.  Pain, sorrow, and doubt assaulted his mind in a flood of emotion.  Jarrack gasped and his face blanched.  He’d never shared other people’s feelings, always imposed his own desires on weaker minds.

Jarrack sank to his knees, gasping.  The tall priest rushed to help and others touched the body Jarrack occupied.  They planned to assist their venerated leader but flooded his mind with feelings.  He fought to breathe, fought to push their hands away, and fought to secure a thread of his own mind.  His body convulsed under the onslaught.  Gratefully he escaped into a black pit and drifted in silence. 

*****

Now the initial crisis was over, Donovan rubbed his head to ease the pain behind his eyes.  A guard entered the chamber, followed by a chapel priest.

Seeing the priest, Donovan remembered the Bishop’s funeral and sprang to his feet.  “I’m so sorry!  The emergency distracted me and I forgot the ceremony.  Please accept my apologies.”

The priest looked embarrassed and waved away his comment. 

“No need.  We witnessed a miracle tonight.  His Holiness recovered and asks to see you in his chambers.  Will you come?”

Donovan felt dumfounded.  “I thought he died.  What happened?”

“His eyes opened and shocked us all.”  The priest bowed and made the sign against evil.

“Lead the way, brother.”

Donovan found Father Cedric keeping vigil over the Bishop. The tall man looked troubled as he gazed at the unconscious man.  “I’m glad you came.”  Father Cedric met Donovan’s stare.  “He collapsed as we prepared to leave the chapel, most unusual.”

“This whole thing sounds unusual.  Do you know what happened?” Donovan asked.

Father Cedric looked worried.  “His body lives but this man is not my Bishop.”

“What?”  Donovan’s harsh whisper filled the small chamber.  He stared at the priest, noting beads of sweat on flushed cheeks. 

Father Cedric’s eyes filled with pain.  “There is only one person who can occupy another’s body.  Chella arrived a few minutes ago and claims the red clay box crashed during the explosion. Jarrack escaped.”

Donovan’s stomach tightened.  “You think this is Jarrack?”  It was more a statement than a question.  “How do you know?”

“I occupied the castle during Jarrack’s rule and watched him murder my brothers. I hid successfully but saw him often.”  Father Cedric’s knobby fingers rubbed his tunic, as if he felt tainted by the memory.  “I recognize Jarrack’s voice.  The creature inside my Bishop’s body is Jarrack.”

The Bishop’s eyelids fluttered open.  Donovan watched with tight-lipped concentration as the man lifted a trembling hand to his brow.  When he saw the ruby ring, he heaved a sigh. 

“Jarrack?”  Donovan spoke the name sharply. 

The Bishop met Donovan’s gaze and nodded. 

“It’s true. You’ve taken over the Bishop’s body!” Donovan hissed. 

“Not by choice.”  Jarrack’s voice sounded unusually mellow. “That black witch of yours did this to me.”  

“Black witch?”  Father Cedric gasped.  “Is this witchcraft?”

Donovan shook his head.  “He means Chella but she’s no witch.”

Jarrack sat up with difficulty.  “No?  I touched her mind and now I’m trapped inside this…body.  She stole my powers and forced me…to feel…other minds!  I can’t live this way.”  He held out his shaking hands.  “Look, I’m wrinkled, old, and dying.  It is worse than I feared!”

“Is it?”  Father Cedric’s deep voice startled Jarrack.  “You feel other minds?”

“That’s the worst part!” Jarrack hissed.  “I lost my powers and feel people suffer.”

Father Cedric crossed himself and clasped the hand of his enemy.  “God granted you a gift, brother.  Accept the wonder of it.”

As Jarrack struggled against Father Cedric’s iron grip, his fright turned to terror.  “Don’t send me your feelings!” 

Father Cedric’s face looked calm as he prayed.  Jarrack struggled, but his breathing calmed.  When Father Cedric released his hand, Jarrack gawked at the priest.

“I saw everything in your mind.  I killed priests and played games of hide and seek with you.  Why’d you share those images?”  Jarrack rubbed his hand.

“I forgive you for your evil actions.”  Father Cedric guided Donovan out of the chamber.  “Don’t worry, we’ll teach him the lessons he needs to learn.”

“What’d you do?”  Donovan asked.

“I filled my mind with love, kindness, and forgiveness.”  Father Cedric locked the door behind them. 

“It’s probably a novel experience for the likes of Jarrack, but I’m worried he’ll break free.  We’ll post guards.”

“No!”  Father Cedric sounded emphatic.  “Leave him to us.  As you heard, his powers of mind control are gone.  He’s changed.”

“Do you believe him?  Jarrack’s a clever liar.”

“He spoke the truth, Donovan.  Look to your own ring and notice it glows white.”

Donovan stared at the ring of truth, bequeathed to him by his predecessor, King Halder.  It held a steady white glow. “I don’t understand how it’s possible.”

“Don’t question God’s will.”  Father Cedric smiled.  “Leave Jarrack in our hands, Donovan.  He has much to learn and we’re eager to teach him.”

*****

Father Cedric found Chella in the chapel, praying.  He spoke to her for a moment and she followed him to Jarrack’s room.  She braced herself and entered.  When the door closed behind her, Jarrack’s face contorted with anger.  His breathing got raspy.

“Try to control your temper, Jarrack.  That body died and you risk a paralyzing stroke.”  Chella’s words struck him like a blast of cold air.  She lowered herself gracefully into a stiff wooden chair and folded her hands.

“What’d you do to me?”  Jarrack’s voice crackled with anger.  “Why did you cast me into this grotesque body and strip me of power?”

Chella shook her head.  “I did nothing.  You called God’s wrath down upon yourself.”

“I don’t believe that dribble.  When I escaped from that box, I touched your mind and you shoved me into this body.”

“Can’t you feel the truth?”

“No!” he shouted. “Undo your magic or people will die.”

“From now on you’ll feel death and the pain of others.”  Chella’s gaze held steady.  Father Cedric appeared from behind the curtain, smiled at Jarrack and held out his hand.  “Fear not, brother.  You’ll learn the lessons God calls us to teach.”  Chella stood beside Father Cedric and their minds flooded his with memories. 

“No!  I don’t want to hear more, I can’t stand it!”  Jarrack backed against the wall.  “Please stop the voices in my head,” he begged.

Father Cedric touched his arm.  “We’ll help you learn to block thoughts, so you can have quiet when needed.”

Jarrack’s eyes searched the room for escape as his hands shook.  “I was happy.  Can’t you let me go back to the way I was?”

“There’s no going back,” Chella said.  “We’ll show you a path into the light but you must take the steps on your own.  God gives us each choices.”

Jarrack snarled, “I made my choices.”

Father Cedric sighed.  “Then why do you stand here shaking?”

Jarrack stared at the ceiling.  “I haven’t worked out how to use my new powers.  Perhaps I possess other skills.”

“Perhaps.”  Chella sounded tired. 

Jarrack grinned.  “You feel doubt…and fear!  You’re afraid of my potential.”

“I’m just human.”

“Yes, but you’re not sure that I’m still human.  Perhaps I’m beyond human and could be something terrifying.  You’re not as confident as you appear.”

Chella glanced at Father Cedric for support.

Jarrack laughed.  “What can I do that’s so frightening?  You know I’ll find out.”

Chella ran from the room.       

*****

Donovan paced like a caged lion, disturbed by his encounter with Jarrack.  Time grew short and a new deadline loomed.  The spaceship failed to respond to their broadcasts.  Fremont refused to call off more missile attacks.  Now Jarrack appeared in the body of the Bishop. 

Bryant waited for Donovan’s attention, reluctant to break into Donovan’s thoughts.  He understood his king’s turmoil and sympathized.  Finally he cleared his throat, and Donovan swung to face him.

“Sire?”  Bryant noted Donovan’s hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Don’t fear, Bryant.  I’m a bit edgy.  What do you require?”

Bryant hesitated.  “The council grows anxious and they’re a hard lot to deal with in ordinary circumstances.  They’re becoming impossible, ready to panic.  Could you make an appearance?”

“A small request.  I’ll be there shortly, call everyone together.”

“They’re assembled and refuse to disband until they see you.”

Donovan frowned.  “I understand.  Perhaps we should give them something to chew over in their meeting.  Bring Fremont to the council and let them hear what we face.”

Bryant nodded.  “Fremont may benefit from the encounter.”

Donovan gave his friend a wry grin.  “Yes, I’ll join you in chambers.” 

He changed into an Institute uniform, the thin gold fabric that indicated rank, and it felt alien.  He put aside his sword and strapped on his laser pistol.  As Donovan approached the Council chamber he heard loud voices, tempers pushed to the edge of reason.  Donovan stood listening. 

Bryant was correct in summoning him.  The Council needed a jolt, the kind he was about to provide.  The door swung open revealing a tall figure in shimmering gold.  His expression looked severe as he scanned the assembly.  Donovan stood silent with his hand resting on a forbidden weapon.  The impact of Donovan’s image, a dangerous spacer, hushed the chamber.

He didn’t sit at the head of the table but stood waiting.  The wait wasn’t long.  The door revealed another gold-clad figure flanked by guards who stomped arrogantly into the room.

“Milord.”  Bryant bowed before Donovan.  “I present the spacer, Fremont.”  Bryant gestured toward the scowling prisoner.

Donovan’s steely gaze met Fremont’s defiance.  “You threaten Drako with your offworld weapons?”  Donovan asked.

Fremont smirked.  “You understand the killing power of our weapons.  You once used the same power to destroy a planet.”

Council members mumbled but Donovan glared them down.  “Aye, I know the power behind your threats, but my friends here don’t have the benefit of my experience.  Perhaps you’d enlighten them?”

Fremont shrugged.  “Why not?  They’ll feel the effects soon enough.”  He turned toward the assembly.  “You were lucky with the first onslaught.  My ship will continue to fire missiles through your inadequate defense system, and one of those missiles might level an entire city.  The ship carries fifty.  The captain has instructions to fire five of them every twenty-four hours until I send a coded signal.  Your defenses will crumble.”