Starlighter (8 page)

“They call me Tibber the Fibber, but my real name is Tibalt Blackstone. I survived the Great Plague, I did.”

“The Great Plague! Then you must be over ninety years old.”

“Oh, yes. As old as the hills and older than rust, my bones are all brittle, and my brain’s full of dust.” He cackled again. “My pappy locked the gateway to the dragon world and founded the resistance against the plucked chickens who still hide its presence. I can help you find it.”

Jason stifled a laugh. This man was trying to talk his way out of prison, but how could he have known to mention the dragons and the gateway? “You said your name is Blackstone. Are you related to—”

“Uriel Blackstone. He was my pappy. He showed me the gateway before they locked him up, but I remember where it is. Yes, I do!”

Jason gazed at the old man’s wild eyes. “Tibber the Fibber, huh? Does the name fit?”

Tibalt winked. “Oh, yes. I am a liar, to be sure. It keeps things interesting for me. Even if they catch me in a lie, what does it matter? I am already locked up, you see.”

“Yes…I see. But how do I know you’re not lying to me now?”

“You don’t!” Tibalt pointed at Jason with a long, bony finger. “But you are the chosen one, and you will release me. I can help you on your great mission.”

“The chosen one? What are you talking about?”

“You bear the litmus finger.”

“Litmus?” Jason withdrew the finger from his pocket and set it in his palm. “You could see it?”

“Not see it. Sense it. But it will do you no good in your pocket. It must be embedded in your skin. My pappy told me stories about it, so I know. I know very much. He told me that I would need it to find the gateway, but since I am in here, and you are out there, you will have to be the one to embed it.”

“I don’t have time to get a surgeon to—”

“No need for a surgeon.” Tibalt snatched the finger. “Open your shirt.”

“Hey! Give that back!” Jason swiped at the finger, but Tibalt jerked it away.

“Unbutton that fancy shirt, and I’ll give it back in a place you can use it. You want to find the gateway, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then pop those buttons, boy, and I’ll give you a personal pointer to truth.”

Jason set the torch down and unfastened his shirt’s top three buttons. When he pulled the plackets apart, exposing his chest, Tibalt whispered in a hypnotic cadence, “Come closer…closer…”

Jason glanced at his sword as he inched toward the old man.

Suddenly, Tibalt thrust out both arms, grasped Jason’s neck, and pressed the finger against his chest and held it there.

It burned, sizzling like a hot poker drilling into his chest.

“Augh!” Jason’s cry echoed from one end of the corridor to the other. He tried to pull away, but Tibalt’s wiry arms held him in place.

Finally, Tibalt let go. Jason staggered back and slammed into the cell door on the opposite side, then slid to the floor. A string of smoke rose from his chest and brushed his face, smelling hot and foul. Pressing his chin against his chest, he looked at the throbbing finger under a patch of cauterized skin. Still glowing yellow, it burned with every rhythmic pulse.

Jason blew on his skin to cool the fiery sting, but it did no good, though the sizzles were dying away.

Looking again at Tibalt, Jason scowled. “So now what?”

“Now you can go on your great mission.”

Jason climbed to his feet and buttoned his shirt. “What do you know of my great mission?”

The old man’s words breezed like a solemn chant. “A hero comes to rescue those who flew to realms afar. With
sword in hand and youthful heart, he slays the dragon star.”

“Star?” Jason repeated.

Tibalt nodded vigorously. “It was my pappy’s rhyme, not mine, but it works, don’t you think?”

“Uh…sure.” Jason picked up the torch. This poor guy was obviously addled, but maybe his experience in the dungeon could help. “Can you direct me to the lower level?”

Tibalt’s eyes grew wide again. “If you take me with you, I will show you how to use the litmus finger. It is a guide to truth and direction and wisdom, but if you don’t know how to use it, it is worthless, and you will never find the gateway. When I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were a dragon believer, so I know all about your quest. No, you can’t fool an old fooler like me. And I can handle a blade with the best of them. Take me along, and the litmus finger and I will lead you to the gateway.”

Jason looked at Tibalt’s pleading face. Obviously he knew something about the gateway and the finger. Then again, he
was
a liar; he could be an old Underground Gateway member who murdered someone and would spin any lie he could to get out. “I’ll tell you what,” Jason said. “You direct me to the lower level, and if my contact there says I am allowed to release you, I will.”

Tibalt stared at him for a long moment, his gray eyebrows squeezing together. “Well, then, young man, since I’m locked up, I don’t have much choice, do I?” He pointed down the hallway. “At the end, you will find stairs to the left and to the right. Beware of the left! Oh, yes, beware of the left, for you will become lost in a maze of crooked halls
and rat-infested rooms. Not that I mind the rats, you see. Some of my best friends are rats, but without me guiding you, you might never find your way back.”

“So I turn right,” Jason prompted. “And then?”

His cadence became singsong. “Beware of the left and descend to the right, or forever be lost in the dead of the night.”

“Thanks. I get the picture.”

“When you reach the end of the staircase, turn right again. That path will lead you farther downward to a corridor like this one. There you will find the forgotten ones, the deserted ones. Governor Feedor wants no one to know they exist, but he still keeps them alive, locked in heavy chains, for they hold valuable information. Oh yes, very valuable. He wishes to extract it through torture or deprivation.”

“Governor Feedor? He was two governors ago.”

Tibalt rolled his eyes. “Well, thank you very much for that information. The heralds never come here with the latest news.” His head tilted to the side. “Who is the governor now?”

Jason almost said, “Prescott,” but the image of the dagger protruding from his chest snatched the word away. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “I have to go.”

As he hurried toward the far end of the corridor, his torch leading the way, he looked back. Tibalt’s hand waved frantically. “Beware of the left!” The words bounced around, fading with each echo.

When Jason reached a wall, he turned right and descended a long flight of stairs. The stench increased. The dripping water grew louder. The air felt wet and oily.

Again finding a wall, he turned right. A faint aura of green surrounded the torch’s flame, sometimes sparking, as if flint stones were trying to light it. As he marched down the path’s slope, he kept glancing at the torch. Could flammable chemicals be hovering in the dank air? Maybe. The corridor seemed to be filled with something unusual, but he had to risk keeping the torch ablaze. It would be impossible to find cell number four without it.

After another minute, doors appeared on both sides. Jason read the plate on the first door on the left—cell number one. On the right was cell two. He hurried to the second door on the right. This was it—cell number four.

Lifting the torch, now sparking wildly in green and orange, he peered into the window and called, “Is anyone in there?”

A female voice sounded from the back of the cell. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll extinguish that torch immediately.”

Jason looked at the flame. The sparks were popping and dancing. “Then I won’t be able to see.”

“If a pocket of gas drifts by,” she said calmly, “and the entire mining tube explodes, you won’t be able to see for the rest of your life, if you survive at all. If that’s your choice, then so be it.”

Jason dropped the torch. After stamping out the flame, he peered in again, but the darkness made it impossible to see past the bars. “I’ve come to get you out.”

“What?” Her voice spiked with excitement. “Why? Who are you? Your voice is familiar.”

“Jason Masters.” He fumbled through the keys on the ring. “Your voice sounds familiar, too.”

Her voice quivered. “It should, Jason. I am Elyssa.”

“Elyssa!” His heart pounded. “So the bear story was a lie after all!”

“Unless you think a bear brought me here for safekeeping,” Elyssa said with a tremulous laugh. “How did you find me?”

His fingers shaking, Jason singled out a key and pushed it toward the lock. “I’ll explain later.” After clinking it against metal twice, it finally entered the hole. He tried to turn it both ways, but it wouldn’t budge. “I have the key ring,” he explained, “but they didn’t tell me which one is the right key, and it’s too dark to see them.”

After a pause, Elyssa replied, her voice now composed. “When they first brought me here, Prescott unlocked the door with a silver key. It had a round butt end, and the key itself had three square notches at the front and one triangular notch behind them.”

Jason began feeling for a key matching that description. “Your memory is amazing, as usual.”

“It’s important to remember details that might help you later, even the shape of keys.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” Jason ran his finger along a promising key, but it wasn’t quite right. “How could you see it if they didn’t have a torch?”

“They used a portable lamp. It has no exposed flame.”

“I’ve heard of those. We still don’t have them in the commune.” Jason unbuttoned the top of his shirt and let the glow of the finger wash over the keys. It wasn’t much, but it helped. “I think this is it.”

As he pushed the key into the lock, Elyssa spoke again. “Just a warning. I have been in chains ever since I
arrived, so I have not bathed. I likely smell worse than the bears that supposedly stole me.”

“That won’t bother me.” Gripping the circular end tightly, he turned the key. Rusted metal screeched, and a loud click sounded. He buttoned his shirt, then lifted the crossbar from its brackets, tossed it to the ground, and jerked the door open. Total darkness masked the interior, and a foul odor assaulted his nose.

“I’m over here, Jason.”

Crouching, he scooted toward the sound of clinking chains. “How did you survive?”

“A sentry named Drexel brings me food and water each morning. He told me yesterday of a plan to rescue me. Did he send you?”

“You could say that.” He touched a hand and grasped it. “Ah! Here you are.”

Elyssa’s other hand joined in the clutch, a tight, trembling grip. Chains again clinked as she moved. “Jason, since Drexel sent you, I assume you know about the Underground Gateway.”

“I know about the society, if that’s what you mean.”

“Do you believe the stories about dragons stealing humans and taking them to another world?”

“I didn’t until today.” He pulled his hand away and fumbled with the keys again. “Do you know what the key to the lock on your chains looks like?”

Like a scientist describing a chemical formula, she rattled off the description. “Square end, two triangular notches in the front, one square notch behind them.”

After checking a few keys, his fingers paused on a good candidate. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Good.” Elyssa pushed a metallic object against his fingers. “Here’s the lock.”

Jason slid the key in and turned it. Something clicked. The chains clinked loudly, as if falling to the floor in a heap.

A hand grasped his, and he pulled her up. For a moment, she wobbled in place. “Are you okay?” he asked as he tried to steady her.

“I will be. Just give me a minute.”

Jason kept his hand in hers, ignoring her painful squeeze. As she took several deep breaths, each one came back out as a stifled sob. Soon, she settled down and loosened her grip. “Now we have to find our way out of here,” she said, her voice assuming a take-charge tone. “Drexel told me that if a rescuer came, we shouldn’t use the main dungeon entrance to escape. The guard there is our ally, so we must make it clear that we exited another way. If not, he will be punished severely for not guarding his post.”

“I understand. Where is another exit?”

“On the lower level at the opposite side. If we go up the stairs, we should find another descending staircase straight ahead. After we get through a maze of tunnels down there, we’ll find the exit gate.”

“I heard about that maze. Do you know how to get through it?”

Her voice sharpened. “How would I? I have been in chains ever since I arrived.”

Jason sniffed the air. Her comment about not bathing was clearly true. “There’s a prisoner on the upper level who says he’s here because he’s a believer. He says he
can help me find the dragon gateway, and he also knows his way through the maze.”

“Tibalt?” she asked.

“How’d you know?”

“Drexel mentioned him. He is a believer, but he’s as crazy as a loon. He’s more likely to stumble over a garden rake than to find the gateway to the dragon world.”

“Did he do anything wrong to get locked up in here? I mean, something besides being a gateway believer?”

“Maybe. Drexel didn’t say.”

“Well, I’d rather have an experienced loon with us than no one at all. Getting lost in a maze wouldn’t be a great start.”

“Suit yourself, but we’d better get going.”

Jason groped for her wrist and pulled her hand against his back. “Hang on to my shirt.”

“Got it.”

He led the way out of the cell, grabbed the darkened torch, and marched up the sloping corridor. “What’s causing the fumes in the air?” he whispered.

“I overheard that one of Prescott’s friends found a cavity under the castle that’s rich in extane, and they believe it branches out into a matrix of reserves. You know how much our people crave it.”

Jason imagined the energy channels in the walls within the castle, a recently invented luxury only the rich could afford. A greater supply would mean cheaper prices for the people and bigger profits for the supplier.

“Anyway,” Elyssa continued, “Prescott allowed them to mine it, but only if he got a hefty share of the revenue. Obviously they’re doing a messy job, and it’s leaking into
the dungeon. I hear it’s even worse on the other side’s lower level.”