Warrior (42 page)

A whispering stream broke away from the sphere and swirled around Koren’s head, leaving words in her ear with each orbit.

“If the hole is … not sealed, Exodus … is still wounded. The reason for its fall … must be removed.”

Then, the stream plunged back into the sphere in a radiant splash.

Koren cocked her head at Taushin. “Why would we resurrect Exodus without sealing the hole? Wouldn’t it just sink again?”

“Eventually. It would stay aloft long enough to prove who I am and to infuse the atmosphere with pheterone.”

“How can you be sure? What if it sinks while everyone is watching? That would ruin everything.”

Taushin closed his eyes, saying nothing for several seconds. Koren held her breath. The wait seemed unbearable. Her question was certainly reasonable.

Finally, Taushin let out a sigh. “I have been trying to protect you from an awful truth. I still have hope that Exodus will fly long enough to allow me to free your people, but if it sinks, our plans will sink with it.”

“What is the awful truth?”

“There is a way to ensure success. It is the reason I had you take a stardrop from Cassabrie’s chamber, and it is what I learned when you replayed the conversation between Magnar and Arxad in the Basilica. Once you get inside Exodus, you can seal the hole with the stardrop.”

Koren opened her hand and stared at the shining stardrop. “But if I seal the hole from the inside …”

“You would not be able to escape,” he said. “You would succeed, to be sure. Exodus would rise, it would fill the air with pheterone, and dragons would never again require the services of human slaves.”

Koren closed her hand. The image of the star evaporated, and the streams of light dispersed into the air. “You’re saying I would be trapped in there until I die, aren’t you?”

“Here is the heart of the awful truth.” Lifting his head high, Taushin spoke with passion. “You would neither be trapped nor would you die. Instead, you would become the guiding angel of Starlight, the destiny of an obedient Starlighter. As you will learn when you tell the tales from within Exodus, humans originated here and were relocated to Darksphere, a planet so named because it possessed no hovering angel. The reason a Starlighter is born is simply to assume this role. Cassabrie refused and therefore perished. You, Koren, were born to take her place, the savior of dragons and humans alike. Now you may take your place as a star in the sky, a watchful angel who forever tells the Creator’s stories to every soul in the world, dragon and human alike … if they will listen.”

After inhaling deeply, Taushin returned to his normal tone. “Your other option is the one I offered initially. Attempt the resurrection without sealing the hole. Perhaps we can accomplish our purposes without your sacrifice.”

Koren blinked at him. It seemed that an avalanche of revelation had stormed over her—the names of both planets, her own label as a Starlighter, the purpose for her birth, the reason Taushin imprisoned her, choosing chains instead of persuasion. If she had known these terrible options in advance, she would likely have taken Cassabrie’s choice, refusing cooperation. Who would take either option? Eternal imprisonment in a sphere of light, hovering over a thankless planet, endlessly telling its populace tales they would likely ignore? Would trying instead to inflate a broken balloon make any sense? Even if it worked for a while, what would happen to the dragons’ pheterone supply later? Should she even ask this question? Taushin might not answer truthfully anyway. Maybe if she cooperated for now, she could buy enough time to get the slaves home regardless of what Taushin planned for the dragons’ survival…. Maybe.

“I see that you now understand,” Taushin said. “You know more than Cassabrie ever learned. In fact, you are a worthier angel candidate than she, for you are not only more powerful, you have demonstrated a willingness to sacrifice for others, a stark contrast to Cassabrie’s stubborn selfishness.”

“Sacrifice,” Koren whispered. It seemed so long ago that she and Natalla memorized one of her favorite verses in the Code. As she pictured Natalla listening to her read from the ancient book, the words streamed back into her mind.
You will recognize love when you see someone sacrificing himself for the sake of a pauper.

She had explained to Natalla that the cattle children were surely paupers, and she finished the lesson with, “Someday I’m going to find a way to help them. Someone has to.” While it was true that the cattle children were now free, were the other slaves any less valuable?

“I cannot hear your thoughts,” Taushin said, “but your struggle is clear. My advice, again, is to attempt the resurrection without sealing the hole. If it fails, then perhaps you will have the opportunity to try again. Why sacrifice? Why risk harm to yourself when it is possible to gain what you long for without it? With your power, I am sure you can keep the star aloft long enough for me to get the slaves out. In fact, when you come down, perhaps every single one of them will already be gone. Surely success without sacrifice is to be greatly desired. To be eternally trapped while your liberated friends celebrate their freedom without you would be the greatest of tortures, would it not? Yes, you would feel some joy … temporarily. But what about after a hundred years? A thousand years? Ten thousand? After every rejoicing slave is dead, you will be hovering over a thankless land, forever and ever. Your sorrow will never end.”

Koren studied his face. With his blue eyes shining brightly, it seemed impossible to check for any hint of deception. Could he be telling the truth? If so, maybe it made sense to try it the easy way first. What could it hurt? If it failed, she could then opt to seal the hole. At least she could push the horrible decision back, if not eliminate it.

As her fears subsided, her cloak blew to the side, exposing her booted legs. With Solarus shining, the dragon shadow again painted the ground next to her. She lifted an arm and looked at her wrist. An abrasion still reddened her skin, the symbol of Taushin’s cruelty.

Her own voice entered her mind, passionate tones echoing after each punctuated word.
Love … does … not … need … chains!

How could she trust this beast, this mad dragon who would torture and maim? Yet hadn’t he told the truth about the Code? Hadn’t the Creator forced his will upon those who rebelled against him? Didn’t they require chains?

And his explanation about the names of the planets and the purpose of Exodus all made sense. Maybe she had to be chained and dragged here in order to understand what she had to do.

“So,” Taushin said, again casting his beams on her, “there are no chains here. What is your decision?”

While facing a great throne and a seated white dragon, Cassabrie swayed, making her dress and cape visible. With a wide seat and a gap in the back for his tail, Alaph’s ivory chair was obviously designed for a dragon’s anatomy, and he seemed comfortable as he looked on, his ears erect and his eyes trained on a semitransparent image between him and Cassabrie—Koren standing in front of the door with Taushin.

“That is enough,” he said. “It is time for you to go.”

Cassabrie lowered her hands and waited for her cape to settle. “We didn’t hear her answer.”

A gentle laugh rumbled in Alaph’s throat. “I think she will change her mind several times before she settles on a final decision, so hearing her first reply might satisfy your curiosity, but it would not be conclusive.”

“Even so, she paused for so long. What was she waiting for?”

Alaph looked at her, his blue eyes clear and sharp and casting no beams that might hide his intent. “For wisdom.”

“Will you provide it?”

“If she asks …” His expression suddenly turned morose. “Her knowledge of the Code is a valuable treasure, to be sure, and it will be a great light to her path, but …”

“She needs to ask the Creator,” Cassabrie finished. “Will you tell
me
if Koren should resurrect Exodus?
Should
she seal the hole?”

“So many questions!” Alaph breathed a stream of icy vapor. “You heard the dilemma. You experienced it yourself. Perhaps you should be asking your questions to a mirror.”

Cassabrie grinned. “Not so, good king. I wouldn’t be able to see myself.”

Alaph let out a roaring laugh. “Well done, Starlighter. You have bested me, so I will answer one of your questions. Choose well.”

“That’s easy. When Jason was in the star chamber with me, he said that Exodus wanted to be destroyed. Is that true?”

Alaph stared at her blankly. “How interesting. Jason’s wisdom might be greater than I gave him credit for.”

“Then it’s true?”

“It is true. Do you remember what I told you about a Starlighter’s fate if she were to be trapped between worlds?”

“Yes,” Cassabrie said. “It is the most horrific existence imaginable.”

“Then imagine this. A Starlighter lives within every such star. When Exodus moved freely, the Starlighter lived in ecstasy. It is not the lonely existence Taushin described. It is really an escape from the tortures of this life and a journey into the true Northlands. This Starlighter did not even realize she was confined. Listening to the Creator’s voice and repeating his words for all to hear was the greatest existence possible. She was in pure bliss and in his presence always. There is no greater joy.”

Cassabrie trembled with delight. “And now?”

“Now she is in torment. She cannot hear the Creator’s voice. For all these centuries she has suffered, still learning the events of the world and still sending them forth again as she weeps. As if wedged between the worlds, she is trapped, and the torture is unbearable. She wants to die and be with her Creator.”

“Can
she die?”

Alaph nodded. “If Exodus is destroyed.”

“Then Starlight will have no pheterone or guiding angel.”

“True, but there is another option. She could be replaced by another Starlighter.”

Cassabrie stared at him. Alaph’s simple declaration meant so much more, but she dared not ask another question.

“Let us move on to other matters.” He shifted down to the floor and spread out his wings. “You cannot help Koren at this time, but there is someone who needs you.”

“You told me I was going to Darksphere again,” Cassabrie said as she climbed up his tail to his back, “but you never said whom I would be helping.”

“Someone who will face a threatening situation very soon. I will take you to the portal now.”

“The Northlands portal?”

“It is the only one I can reach. I still cannot pass beyond the wall.”

Cassabrie sat straight on Alaph’s back. Without a spine to grasp, she had no way to hang on, but being a spirit had its advantages. Nothing could knock her from this perch. “I’m ready.”

As Alaph flapped his wings and rose slowly into the spacious throne chamber, Cassabrie looked out the window they would soon fly through. A field of white lay before her, like a blank page waiting for an author’s pen. It was better this way, not knowing what was in store. The tale was yet to be told, and as the ink began filling the page, she would witness every stroke, memorizing each detail. Someday the people of Starlight and Darksphere would need to hear this tale, and she would be ready to tell it.

K
oren stood at the brink of a precipice and stared into the darkness below. Only inches in front of her black boots, a stairway descended sharply into the seemingly endless void. The rocky steps appeared to be hundreds of years old—narrow, crumbling, without rails or even walls—bare, sculpted stone jutting downward into the chasm before being swallowed by the eerie darkness.

Floating a few feet above the stairs, globules of vaporous light streamed toward her, each one stretching out like a comet — a shining head of shimmering radiance followed by a glowing tail. Wiggling like tadpoles, they seemed to swim in the air, and as the first one passed by it orbited her face, brushing her skin with a tickly buzz.

A soft voice emanated from the light, like a whisper from afar. “Has Exodus caused our pain? Will it ever return?” Then, after a final brush against her cheek, the stream flew toward the wall behind her, a sliding barrier that someone had left open, as if anticipating her arrival at the Northlands castle.

The streams flowed through the opening, some pausing at Koren’s spot at the top of the stairway before joining the escaping herd. The rush sounded like a crowd of people hurrying by, with only snippets of their private conversations reaching her ears as they passed.

“If the genetics are pure, we can force the recessive to survive.”

“I will take the eggs to Darksphere. The children will have a dragon for a father.”

“Find the escapees. No one will leave Starlight alive.”

Clutching the stardrop she had taken from Cassabrie’s sanctum, Koren raised her hood, shielding her ears from the barrage of splintered sentences. She stepped down and shifted her weight forward. Although the stony material crackled under her boot, the stair held firm. Then, fanning out her cloak, she walked slowly down the stairwell. Ahead lay the darkness of the unknown, a dizzying descent into a river of visible voices.