Liberator (6 page)

Koren crawled. So dizzy! Walking was impossible now. With her vision darkening by the second, the sound of water remained the only guide. Maybe the chilly current
would provide a cooling wake up, at least long enough to get to the safety of the forest on the other side. With night approaching, she could blend in with the darkening shadows.

When she reached the bank, she continued a painstaking crawl into the flow. The icy water knifed through her clothes. Forearms and biceps stiffened into rigid rods. The shock sent a rush of blood to her head, snapping her awake and clearing her mind, though it also ignited a blazing headache that felt like a red-hot hammer pounding her skull.

Moving stiffly, she made her way to the center of the twenty-foot-wide river. The water buoyed her body, allowing her to stand erect and walk in the shoulder-high current. New claws, these made of icy water, dug into her skin. She gritted her teeth and drove herself onward. Now swimming, she drifted southward with the flow until her feet struck bottom again.

She pushed against the riverbed and trudged toward shore. Shivers took over. Her entire body shook violently, and her teeth chattered, making the hammer pound more furiously. With every step, her clothes and cloak grew heavier, weighing her down. But the weight didn’t matter. She had to keep away from the soldiers. Maybe the man who ran after her gave up for fear of the disease, or maybe one of the dragons had stopped him.

Finally, she climbed up to the bank and continued walking, now in a weaving, stumbling stagger. When she reached the forest tree line, the desire to collapse and hide felt like a crushing boulder. She shook her head fiercely. Deeper was better, far away from the dragons
and the soldiers. Someone would eventually search for her. She had to get away, hide in darkness, shiver alone where the chattering of her teeth couldn’t reach dragon or human ears.

After two dozen more steps, her foot caught on her cloak. She collapsed, more like crumbling pottery than a falling tree. Forcing herself to crawl again, she scooted between two bushes, lay on her stomach, and buried her face in her arms. Spasmodic sobs shook her body. Biting her lip, she steeled herself. Crying would reveal her hiding place. She had to stay still … quiet.

She held her breath and peeked over her arms. The ground-level view provided little more than a glimpse of the forest floor—a gathering of sparsely packed tree trunks, leaves, and needles. Soon night would be her ally. She waited, allowing only shallow, silent breaths.

A minute or so later, a man skulked into the waning light, a sword in his grip. With his head high and turning from side to side, he sniffed the air every few seconds. “Koren?” he called. “Where are you?”

Koren held her breath. The man, his gray hair askew, stopped only five paces away and sniffed again. Blood dripped from his forehead down to his cheek, and a bruise painted his jaw purple. “I have excellent tracking skills, Koren. Even in the dark, I will eventually find you. Every minute we lose is another minute closer to death.”

Koren risked another peek. The man was walking at an angle that would miss her hiding place, but not by much. He would probably sniff her out soon.

“I am Edison Masters, Jason’s father.” He slid the sword into a hip scabbard. “Come out of hiding, and I will help you find healing.”

She cringed.
Not Jason’s father! He has to stay away!

“I will arrange for transport to the Northlands,” Edison continued. “Uriel is trying to find a cure.”

Koren swallowed. Trying? That wasn’t good enough. It was too much of a risk.

Staring in spite of the pounding headache, she concentrated on the space in front of Edison. She had to find the energy, even if it sapped her last shred of strength.

Seconds later, an image of herself appeared at the spot, a thin vapor, barely visible in the twilight. She projected her thoughts and forced its lips to move as the thoughts transformed into spoken words.

“Edison …” The voice was weak and frail, but it would have to do. “Please go back and let me die alone. I don’t want you to get the disease.”

Staring, Edison backed away a step. His eyes darted around for a moment before settling on Koren’s phantom. “Dear girl, I have already been exposed. You need not fear endangering me.”

Could his words be true? She shook her head, and her image did the same. Edison had just come from the Northlands with the army. He couldn’t have been exposed, whatever he may want her to believe.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re just telling me that so I’ll come out.”

“Koren, how well do you know Jason?”

She made her image cock its head. The question was a surprising one. “For the short amount of time we have shared together, quite well, I think.”

“Would he leave you to suffer and die alone?”

Koren’s lips trembled, and those on her image did the same. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Would he lie to you?”

“No.”

Edison reached out and caressed her misty cheek. “Then do you expect anything less from me?”

Koren rolled up to a sitting position to better maneuver her image. Now that Edison was distracted and perhaps partially hypnotized, he wouldn’t notice.

The image covered his hand with her own. “Jason has told you about me?”

“He has.”

“Do you think I would accept your offer and willingly sentence you to a horrible death?”

He lowered his head and gave it a slow shake. “No, you wouldn’t. But I speak the truth. I’ve already been exposed.”

“I can’t take that chance. You must leave me. If you get the disease, the other soldiers probably will as well, and then you all would either spread it to your loved ones at home or become stranded here until you die. We shouldn’t imperil so many just to save one who will die anyway.”

“Koren, this is the very reason we came. Every man out there is ready to sacrifice his life to break the bonds of the slaves.”

“But if you and your men contract the disease, you will have no hope in defeating Taushin’s forces. I saw your army. Even healthy, your numbers are small. You are no match for the dragons.”

“If we are not willing to risk danger to save a dying girl, we should have stayed home. There are hundreds of stories just like yours — many Korens who would infect
us if we were to come close.” Edison cocked his head, as if listening for something. “Besides, we’ve already come into contact with a boy who has the disease, and it sounds like he just now caught up with me. He would like to speak to you.”

“To me?” Koren asked. “Who is he?”

A boy walked into view, blinking his one eye. “Koren?

It’s me, Wallace.”

“Wallace?” Koren’s voice pitched higher. “It’s really you!”

“It’s me. And it’s true, I’ve already been infected.”

Koren’s shoulders slumped. Not Wallace. Would no one escape the invisible horror of this pestilence?

“Please come out. We’ll help you.”

She looked at Wallace’s pleading expression, then at Edison’s calm, assured demeanor. They had already sacrificed their health to save others. Accepting their help wouldn’t bring them further harm. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“No need,” Edison said. “I see you now.” He walked through her image, and the draft behind him dispersed it into nothingness. He pushed aside a bush and reached for her. “Don’t be afraid.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart beat wildly, erratically, as if ready to expire at any moment.

A shushing sound followed. “Just relax.” Hands pushed behind her back and under her knees. Arms lifted her, and a walking sensation followed. Soon the sound of water reached her ears.

“Wallace?” she said. “Are you still here?”

“I’m right here, Koren. Right next to you.”

“Hold my hand. Please. Just hold my hand.”

A warm hand slid into hers. She exhaled. Her heart slowed to a steadier rhythm. “Thank you.”

Edison let out another long shushing sound, peaceful and easy, the way Madam Orley used to shush Petra when she cried in the darkness with wordless sobs.

As the river’s sounds returned, dizziness washed to and fro, casting all of Starlight into a wild spin. Sloshing followed, then men’s voices. A dragon spoke unintelligible words.

Several hands lifted her higher and set her on something. She forced her eyes open for a brief glimpse. She sat upon a dragon. Someone slid in behind her and wrapped strong arms around her waist.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got her. I won’t let her go.”

Men held torches with fiery tops that cast wavering light on the dragon’s reddish scales.

“You’re her only chance, Magnar,” a man said. “Take her with all speed.”

“I will return to battle with you before you reach the Southlands.” Magnar’s voice sounded far away, like the low gongs of a distant bell. “I hope to bring news of a cure.”

The sound of beating wings filled Koren’s ears. Wind whipped all around, then settled to a fresh breeze. With the arms holding her tightly, she leaned back and rested. Torturous spasms throttled her aching shoulders. Her biceps twitched uncontrollably. With every dip and weave, her backside slid an inch or two on the scales, but the strong grip always brought her back to a safe position.

“It’s okay, Koren. I’m here. I won’t let you go.”

“Wallace?”

“Yes.” His hand slid into hers again. “I’m right here.”

“Good.” She squeezed his hand. “But I think I’m … I’m … about to faint.”

“Hang on, Koren. Just hang on.”

Soon, bitterly cold wind plunged frigid icicles through her saturated clothes and deep into her skin. Every minute resurrected pain — fire in her head, twisting muscles in her shoulders, a devouring beast in her belly.

Koren let her body fall limp. Fighting to stay alive didn’t help. Whether by disease or by exposure, death would come soon. It was an enemy that never gave up.

A
rush of warm air enveloped Koren’s body. Magnar landed in a run and collapsed in a heap of wings, neck, and tail. Koren spilled off his back, rolled down his scales, and sprawled across a wooden floor, her cheek pressing down and her eyes closed. She clawed at the soft wood. Her fingernails dug in rhythmically in time with her shoulder spasms.

A jumble of dragon language filtered into her ears. She tried to open her eyes, but the task was just too great. With every passing second, the dizziness grew. Although the warmth eased the muscle contractions, the pain in her lesions and the gnawing in her stomach grew worse and worse.

Something slid under her abdomen and lifted. With her limbs half-frozen, they stuck out like tree branches, unable to relax. Whatever held her in its grasp carried her
in a gentle rocking motion. Whispered words replaced the guttural dragonspeak. “Hold on, child. I will get you warmed up in a moment.”

It was a man’s voice, a familiar voice, though it seemed impossible to place. His words dissolved to rumbling hums. As if massaged by the soothing tone, her arms and legs relaxed until it seemed that she had melted in his grasp.

As the man walked, he shifted her body, rolling her to one side, then back again. It seemed that several hands gripped and pulled, shedding her cloak and the clothing underneath. The warm air felt luxurious across her skin, like the bathing pool in Xenith’s room. Was she naked? Maybe. Every sensation seemed magnified out of proportion.

Soon something soft supported her back, and a blanket of new warmth covered her legs and torso up to her neck. She forced her eyes open. She lay on a strange bed. Unlike her floor mat back at Arxad’s cave, it was elevated, and wooden slats ran along each side, similar to the fences the carpenters built to keep rabbits confined. Above, a tree branch protruded over the bed, ending in a hand-shaped nub, palm pointed at the dark sky. In the dim light, it seemed old and rotting, as if it could break and crash onto the bed at any moment.

For the first time in several hours, her muscles unknotted, though the gnawing in her stomach continued to eat away her insides. Grimacing, she gave in to her heavy eyelids and let them flutter shut.

Voices returned, both the man’s and the distinctive tones of a dragon. “She will not survive long enough to test the medicine,” the man said. “It will take too much time to
prepare the ingredients and make a new batch. I have the powder and the genetic material, but it would take an hour to energize it, and she might not last that long.”

“Are you certain?” the dragon asked. “Not even an hour?”

“I have seen this disease too many times to doubt my prognosis. It has already attacked the vital organs. It’s a wonder that she’s still alive.”

“There is a way to give her the time you need, but the task is extraordinarily difficult.”

“Difficulty is not an issue, Alaph. I wish to save this poor girl, and testing the medicine might lead to a final cure that will save dozens of girls just like her.”

“And your own life,” Alaph said. “Surely you have been close enough to her to contract the disease.”

“No doubt, but it will be quite a while before I can test the medicine on myself. The disease must take hold first.”

“Then allow me to explain how to extend her life.” Alaph’s voice lowered. “I told you about Jason’s journey into the star chamber, did I not?”

“You did. A harrowing journey, indeed.”

“Exodus is here in the Northlands, so you can get the stardrop material, both for saving her life immediately and for energizing the medicine. I would collect it myself, but I am unable to touch it, and since Deference is not here to care for Koren, I will have to stay and do what I can to keep her alive.”

“What of the moat and the creatures within?”

“Resolute will ferry you across, and you may take the dagger mounted next to the trophy shelf. You have seen it, have you not?”

“Yes, yes. I have seen it. It will do little good against those beasts, but I will take it all the same.”

“Good. Once you reach the other side, the shining star should be easy to find in the darkness. Scoop material from the outer membrane and form a stardrop in your palms. Then bring it back here and put it in the healing tree’s hand.”

“Are the trees still functional? They appear to be dying.”

“They still have enough power. Normally someone with Starlighter gifts must activate the tree’s healing powers, but since Koren is a Starlighter, I believe it will work. When the stardrop particles rain from the hand, catch them and rub them into her cheeks, throat, and chest. Fear not that they might burn her skin. Healing often comes with pain. Yet, even with the stardrop, a tree cannot expel the disease, so we need to test the medicine.”

“Very well. I will make haste.”

“Wait for one moment, and I will explain something that will likely speed you along.”

“If you take time to explain, she might die.” The man paused. “How strange. Somehow I sense that I have spoken those very words to you before.”

“You did. And I answered with these words, ‘You prayed for mercy. Is it up to your discretion how that mercy is delivered or the manner or timing the deliverer chooses to employ?’ The situation was the same then as it is now. Your daughter lay dying of the disease, and you were desperate to save her.”

“My daughter?”

Alaph shifted to the dragon language. “Touch her head with your fingertips. Lift her eyelids and probe her orbs
deeply.” An icy breeze passed across the bed, filtering into her damp hair. “You remember the victims of the disease, Orson. You remember how it spreads and destroys. You picked up your research at the point you left it when you died. But has your mind blocked out the death that broke your heart? Have you erected a shield of protection?”

Koren flinched. Orson? That was her father’s name. This conversation was so familiar, like a vision of the past she had conjured earlier.

“A shield,” Orson murmured. “Protection.”

“Look … delve deeply … remember.”

Soft pressure ran along Koren’s forehead, then on her eyelids. They lifted, revealing the face of Uriel Blackstone.

Koren tried to whisper Uriel’s name but couldn’t draw a deep-enough breath. Why would Alaph call him Orson?

Uriel’s eyes, wide and piercing, shifted from side to side as if reading a book. After a few seconds, he drew in his lips and pressed them together. His chin trembled. “Koren,” he whispered, his voice pitching higher. “My little K!”

Her lids fell closed again, darkening her vision.
My little K
, she repeated in her mind. How could Uriel know that term of endearment?

“Where is Resolute?” Uriel’s tone spiked. “I must go immediately!”

“I already sent her to the moat,” Alaph said. “She is waiting for you.”

“Koren! Dearest one!” Fingers combed through her hair. “Stay alive! I will return soon!” The fingers lifted, and Uriel’s voice faded. “Pray for me!”

Everything fell silent. Then quiet breathing drew near, and the icy breeze returned. Alaph began to hum a lilting melody that brought to mind a children’s song, a lullaby about casting the stones of labor into the river and watching them sink into darkness. A scratching sound followed, and particles of some kind sprinkled over her face. They smelled like sawdust and tickled her throat, but even the sneeze reflex found no strength to activate and propel them away.

As a smooth, cold surface rubbed the particles into her skin, Alaph spoke. “You are a Starlighter, Koren. You have unique gifts from the Creator, yet you have not used them to their fullest. There have been many distractions that have interfered.”

Koren forced out a weak “But,” then a sighing breath. Speaking took too much energy.

“I know, dear child,” Alaph said in a soothing tone. “You wish to explain yourself, and explain yourself you must, but not to me. I already know your dilemma. You have cried out that love does not need chains, yet you have been bound with chains of your own choosing.”

She tried to speak again, but the dragon’s shushing sound seemed to pull her breath away.

“Hush. Your dilemma was real, and I am not your judge. Rest your mind for now. You need your energy to survive until your father returns. If the Creator sees fit to allow your days to be extended, then perhaps you will have an opportunity to state your case.”

Koren murmured, “Jason … Elyssa.”

“Your traveling companions. The last I heard, they were safe. You will be reunited in due time.”

New pain dug into her gut. She pressed against her stomach and kneaded it with the heel of her hand, trying to push the evil beast away. The spasms returned, worse than ever. Her abdominal muscles twisted into a knot.

She rolled to her side, curled into a ball, and pressed her knees against the slats. Sweat trickled across her forehead and back, dampening the sheets. Maybe death would come soon and cast her mind into darkness. At least then the pain would finally end.

A flapping sound arrived. As it settled, a fresh wind blew across her face, drying the perspiration. The cooling sensation brought a new shiver, but instead of inciting another round of spasms, her muscles settled. Maybe the wood particles Alaph applied were helping.

Alaph’s voice returned in a whisper, shifting again to the dragon language. “How could you carry her in this condition?”

“I flew here with a boy who helped me.” The new voice was gruff, familiar somehow, another dragon speaking in their guttural language. “I left him at the entry.” There was a pause, and a puff of hot breath swept over her. “How is she?”

“She has very little time.”

“As do you.”

“True,” Alaph said. “My time might well be near its end.”

“Thank you for allowing me to be here. I know how dangerous it is.”

“The trees are weak. The limb upon which you perch might not hold you for much longer.”

“I speak of the danger of my presence in the Northlands, not the fragility of this limb.”

“You have broken the covenant, Magnar,” Alaph said, “so the shattering of that curse has already had its effect.”

“Have the Benefile been set free?”

“I have not seen them, but I have no reason to believe they have not escaped. Your bonds were the only restraint.”

“For that, I am sorry. I hope we can avoid a conflict.”

“Sorry?” A growl spiced Alaph’s tone. “You intentionally passed through the portal. Your apology is hollow. If conflict comes, you alone will be to blame.”

“That is why I came here,” Magnar said. “I wish to make peace with you and your kind before the others arrive. We can share power, divide the lands. I will set the slaves free and wash away our guilt.”

“If you wish to make amends, then help Orson collect a stardrop. The survival of this Starlighter will help us in the event my fellow Benefile decide to exact punishment.”

Silence descended for a moment. Koren’s spasms subsided further, but the gnawing beast within never relented. It continued biting and clawing from her intestines to her chest. Her heart thumped erratically, almost stopping at times before racing once again.

“If she survives,” Magnar said in a low tone, “my future is bleak indeed. I will never be king again.”

“Sacrifice is at the heart of repentance. Without deeds, your apology is worthless.”

Magnar snorted. “We shall see how well you follow your own maxims. When Beth arrives, her fury will be terrible to behold. Your own apologies will be like acid in her ears.”

“I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions. Leaving my own mate to such suffering is unforgiveable, at least in her eyes.”

“Then you admit you were wrong?”

“I did what I had to do,” Alaph said. “None of the other Benefile could have accomplished this end.”

“Your stubbornness will be your undoing. If the human army fails to destroy Taushin, the Benefile will be our only hope against him, and a very dangerous hope, indeed. If you refuse to swallow your pride and join them, their wrath cannot be tempered, and no one will be able to stop their rampage.”

“And if I acquiesce and join them, what will be left for you to rule? Even if I temper their wrath, you and your brother will be victims.”

“I plan to go there now and warn him. He and our mates and his daughter will escape, and we will begin a new—”

“A fool’s plan. Your own wickedness is the root of every problem, and the seeds you plant in a new society will sprout new corruption. The Benefile will pursue you forever.”

“What other options do I have?”

“Help Koren. While it is true that her survival will not aid your purposes, such sacrifice is essential if true cleansing is to take place.”

“I cannot go near Exodus,” Magnar said. “Cassabrie hates me because of what I did to her, and now she has the power to gain revenge. If she were to see me, she would try to destroy me. At the very least, her anger at me might delay the collection of a stardrop. She is crafty and keeps her own counsel. You know this to be true.”

“I know of her past unpredictability, but perhaps she will surprise you. Humans are a changeable lot, as are dragons.”

The air fell silent. Only the rumbling breathing of two dragons interrupted the stillness.

Finally, Magnar spoke again. “You ask too much. I would be executing myself.” The beating of wings returned, along with a whipping wind. Then the sounds subsided as quickly as they began.

Koren clenched her eyes tightly shut. It seemed that her life force was seeping out, drawn from her body by the vacuum in Magnar’s wake. The healing particles were wearing off. She would die before Uriel could return, and the medicine wouldn’t be tested, at least not until Uriel manifested the disease. But would that be too late? Every minute they waited was another minute Edison and his men marched farther away.

Uriel.
She let the name sink into her mind. Could he really be her father? She followed with another name.
Orson.
That lovely word had comforted her through many lonely nights. Exhausted from slave labors, she had often collapsed into bed, closed her eyes, and echoed his melodic voice.
I love you, little K.
Yet no image of his face ever came to mind, only his voice, and Uriel’s cry wasn’t the same. The voice that followed Orson’s goodnight kiss was always quiet, reassuring, a blanket of comfort and protection. Uriel’s tone reflected fear and desperation.