Warrior (8 page)

Arxad wheeled around again. Elyssa slid to the side. With Wallace’s help, she pushed upright and regripped the spine, bending her body down to lower her center of gravity.

Another dragon shuffled in from the opposite side of the theater and approached the fire. “The Basilica is locked down, Arxad, and I have sealed off the tunnel to the Zodiac.”

“It’s Magnar,” Wallace said.

Beating his wings heavily, Arxad landed in a run and stopped several paces away from Magnar. He heaved in great breaths, each one punctuated with a smoke-filled snort.

“You did not keep your word,” Magnar said as he drew closer. “What happened to the integrity of the great high priest?”

“I kept my word. I neither broke my chains nor lied to the crystal. I am now a prisoner of a promise I made to the young lady who rides on my back.”

Magnar bent his neck and peered around Arxad, his eyes fiery. “She must be a powerful sorceress to be able to release you from your bonds and force you into submission.”

“She threatened the crystal,” Arxad replied, still breathless. “Unless I gave her the key and acquiesced to her demands, she would have destroyed it.”

“Such are the disadvantages of a dragon who finds lying distasteful. Your allegiance to your word supersedes your loyalty to our species.” Magnar lumbered to Arxad’s flank and bobbed his head at Elyssa’s side. “I have seen the one-eyed boy before, but you have the look of a free woman. Did you come from Darksphere?”

Elyssa set a hand on her hip. “Even if I knew what you were talking about, why would I confess to such a strange idea? And why would you ask for a self-incriminating statement? After all, I
am
able to lie.”

“She has venom enough to be from Darksphere,” Magnar said. “No female here would be so disrespectful. Lashes at an early age will drive that out of any wench.”

Elyssa kept her stare fixed on Magnar. It was too late to change her posture to that of a cowering slave. Such a quick shift would be too obvious. Maybe confident silence would keep the truth a secret, at least for a while.

“Lift your shirt so I can see your back,” Magnar ordered.

“What?” Elyssa touched the hem of her tunic. “Why?”

“To see if you bear the marks of an impertinent slave. Do as I say, or I will cook both of you where you sit.”

Trying not to cringe, Elyssa held the front of her tunic. “Wallace? Will you lift it for me?”

“Uh… okay.”

The material rode up her back and a draft of air cooled her skin. She glared at Magnar. “Satisfied?”

The huge dragon took a heavy step toward her and stopped, meeting her glare with pulsing eyes. His nostrils flared. Smoke streamed out. Yet he said nothing. He just stared.

Elyssa swallowed, hoping her slow transition to the image of fearful slave would be convincing. When Wallace let her shirt fall back into place, she spoke in a conciliatory tone, her voice trembling. “As you can see, lashes have done little to tame my tongue. I am a …” She glanced at Arxad. “An impertinent wench, I suppose. I apologize for my lack of respect.”

Magnar continued to stare. Her words had no effect, apparently glancing off his armor like poorly thrown spears. Was he reading her face? Her posture? She had to block any silent communication.

She slumped her shoulders, hoping to display humility, and put on an innocent, confused-puppy expression. It would either work or enrage him, but no other options came to mind.

Finally, Magnar backed away and waved a wing. “Dismount. You are hiding something from me.”

Elyssa slid down the dragon’s flank and landed, bending her knees. Wallace slid down as well and stood at her side. “Any idea what he means?” he asked, loud enough for the dragons to hear.

She shook her head, watching Magnar. He appeared unaffected by Wallace’s clumsy dissembling. His drilling stare returned. Did he think she was hiding something in her brain, or had he guessed that she was concealing something physical? In fact, she was doing both, but who could tell what this dragon had learned?

Magnar nodded at Elyssa’s trousers. “You have pockets.”

She stealthily brushed her hand across her pocket, feeling the crystalline peg’s slight bulge. It was still there. “Yes. I have pockets.”

“A human with pockets can never be trusted. That’s why we allow only the foremen to have them in the mines. I have been looking for something from the quarry for many years, and I cannot allow a slave to sneak it past our overseers.”

“You’re right,” Elyssa said, “but pockets are very handy for other things besides sneaking.”

“Your friend Jason turned his pockets inside out to prove they were empty. I demand that you do the same.”

Keeping her stare fixed on Magnar, she thrust her hands into her pockets, palmed the crystal, and jerked out the inner lining of each. “You see?” she said, trying to keep the dragon’s attention on her words as she hid her hand behind the protruding pocket. “Nothing. Your suspicions are reasonable, but in my case—”

“Silence!” Magnar spat a fireball that nicked Elyssa’s wrist. Bending double, she grasped her arm and cried out. The top and bottom of the peg extended beyond her concealing grip, making its presence clear.

“You do have it!” With a beat of his wings, Magnar scooted to Elyssa and extended his clawed hand. “Give it to me immediately.”

She scowled fiercely, biting her lip to keep from crying. She laid the peg in his hand and turned toward Wallace. “Think of something,” she whispered.

“I’ll try.” He cleared his throat and stepped toward Magnar. “Magnar, sir, I think that crystal isn’t the one you’re looking for. This one is—”

Magnar smacked Wallace with his tail, sending him sliding into Elyssa. She caught him in her arms and fell to her bottom.

“Thanks for trying,” she said.

He massaged his ribs. “You’re welcome … I think.”

As she struggled to her feet and helped Wallace to his, Magnar turned to Arxad and spoke in an odd language.

Wallace whispered to Elyssa. “Magnar said, ‘They will have to be imprisoned until I have time to interrogate them further.’”

As the two dragons conversed, Wallace continued interpreting.

“Where will you put them?” Arxad asked. “Every guard is occupied.”

“I will let Thortune guard them in the Starlighter’s room. Once they are overcome, he will be adequate.”

“But we cannot allow the secret —”

“The secret will die with them,” Magnar said. “Once they succumb, they will tell me what I need to know, even though they are completely aware that they will die no matter what they say. Since the wench had the crystal, she must be the fulfillment of Gerrod’s Darksphere prophecy.”

“And if she can heal Exodus, then you must know that I oppose her execution. Whether you care about the humans or not, Exodus cannot endure unless it is healed.”

Elyssa studied Arxad’s eyes. He was trying to communicate something to her, knowing Wallace was translating, but it didn’t make much sense.

Magnar cast a glance at Elyssa. “I will consider your appeal and delay the execution order.”

“And what will you do with me?” Arxad asked.

Magnar spiced his reply with a low growl. “I know exactly what to do.” He showed the crystal to Arxad. “I assume you know what this is. We will go as soon as possible.”

Arxad gazed at the glittering peg. “Are you saying—”

“Exactly. Until recent times, you and I have had many journeys together. I think it is time for us to restore what we once had and embark on a new excursion.”

Arxad’s head drooped. “If I must.”

“You must. I have no idea what we will face there, so I need an ally. I trust that you will not let me down again.”

“Let you down? I told you how I escaped from the chains. I had to—”

Magnar interrupted with a sharp growl. “Stop the pretense! I know why you really killed Maximus, and I am weary of allowing this ‘loyal priest’ charade to continue.”

Arxad lifted his head. “I returned the egg, did I not? I proved my loyalty to our ultimate purpose.”

“You did, and it is time that we unite once again and concentrate on our one common cause. I will explain on the way to our destination … Darksphere.”

U
riel Blackstone?” Jason glanced at Koren. “That’s impossible. He died decades ago.”

Uriel raised a finger. “A man who is dead has many advantages, not the least of which is the fact that no one will try to find him while he goes about his business.”

“What business?” Koren asked.

“To rescue my people from this accursed land, of course.”

“But you … He died,” Jason said. “I mean, no one has seen you in so long. Where have you been?”

“Trapped. Trapped like a rat in a cage.” Uriel held a thumb and index finger a fraction of an inch apart. “I was this close to convincing one of the leaders to travel back to Major Four with me. Then he could return to tell everyone else the story. But a white dragon captured me and carried me to a castle in a cold region, where he imprisoned me. For a while, he took care of me himself, providing food and other essentials, but later some invisible spirits took his place.”

“Invisible spirits?” Jason laughed under his breath. “Okay. Thank you for the interesting story, but we have to be on our way.”

As Jason turned and reached for Koren’s hand, Uriel grabbed his sleeve. “What can I do to prove myself?”

Jason pulled free from his grasp and looked at the old man’s sincere face. He was certainly aged, but how could he be over one hundred and twenty years old? It was impossible. Still, a test would prove his story to be false quite easily. There were some things that no one on this planet could know. “If you’re really Uriel Blackstone,” Jason said slowly, “you could tell me how you locked the portal.”

“From the Major Four side or this side?”

“Major Four.”

Uriel showed Jason his hands and wiggled his fingers. “A genetic lock. Only I or one of my descendants can unlock it. I wrote it all down in a journal, hoping I could deliver it to my son, Tibalt, so he could eventually find his way here to give me help, but he never arrived.” Uriel’s head drooped a notch. “He could be dead by now, and I shudder to think about what might happen if that journal should fall into the wrong hands.”

Jason felt his jaw drop open and forced it back in place. “Tibalt isn’t dead,” he said slowly. “His fingers got me into this place.”

Uriel’s brow shot upward. “Tibalt is here? Where?”

“He
was
here. We rounded up some of the Lost Ones, and he took them home.”

Uriel clapped his hands. “Praise the Creator! My son is alive, and he has been doing my work!” He grasped Jason’s arm and pointed southward. “The dragon realm is that way. Come, and we will finish my son’s work … my work … your work.”

Jason studied the old man, his face more visible now as the moon again peeked through a gap in the clouds. With his eyes glittering and his smile flexing his cheeks, he did look a lot like Tibalt. “I understand why you want to go to the dragon realm, but Arxad sent me to the Northlands to find someone who could help us.”

“Arxad?” Uriel’s face turned pale. “I know this dragon. He presided over a horrific execution. I witnessed it myself just before the white dragon captured me.”

“Look,” Jason said, sliding his sword back into its sheath. “I don’t trust Arxad or any other dragon, but he did help us escape. I don’t think he would let us get this far if he meant for us to die along the way.”

Uriel pointed at Jason. “That’s it! He meant for you to die along the way. And even if you reach the bitter climes of the Northlands, the white dragon will imprison you forever. It was only by sheer cunning and years of planning that I managed to escape. Perhaps Arxad has sent you north to get you out of his way, knowing you will either be captured or killed.”

“I don’t believe it,” Koren said. “If you had heard Arxad’s defense of my friend Natalla during her trial, you would know. He helped Natalla and me escape, and before that I lived in his home for over a year. He gets grouchy, but he is never cruel.”

“And he stood by while we were getting executed,” Jason added. “He’s not exactly consistent.”

Uriel shook a finger. “He does what is best for himself, as all dragons do.”

Koren crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Uriel, muttering, “You don’t know the hearts of all dragons.”

“Come with me,” Uriel said, pulling on Jason’s arm. “We will trust only humankind and rescue every soul from this land of lies and brutality.”

“How will you open the portal?” Koren asked. “We don’t know when Tibalt will return.”

Uriel released Jason and drew something in the air with his finger. “From this side, the portal is controlled by a row of crystalline pegs, and I hid one of them. All we have to do is retrieve it, and we’ll have easy passage. Since you’re from my world, maybe together we can convince the slaves to join us. They wouldn’t believe one man, but maybe they’ll believe two additional eyewitnesses.”

“You’ll never get past the wall,” Koren said, nodding toward the south.

Uriel squinted at her. “Past what wall?”

Koren imitated Uriel’s air art and drew with her finger. “The dragons’ domain is enclosed almost all the way around by a high wall, and it’s guarded constantly. No one can get in or out.”

“Is that so?” Uriel gazed toward the south, though it was too dark to see beyond the meadow. “No such wall existed when I was last there.”

“It’s there now,” Koren said, “and it’s the best reason to keep heading north.”

“But the white dragon—”

“We’ll stay out of sight and watch for the white dragon. Even if he finds us, I know what to do.” Koren’s voice altered to a beseeching tone. “Please. Don’t worry. We’ll be safe.”

Uriel hitched up his trousers. “Very well. I will go with you. I am familiar with the castle, and …” He looked southward again, a forlorn expression sagging his wrinkled face. “I have waited many years to return. I can wait a little while longer.”

Jason patted Uriel on the back. “Then let’s go. It will be good to have another set of eyes. We can take turns sleeping.”