Diviner (10 page)

She lifted her hood again and spread out her arms, but they were still heavy, empty of energy. She let them flop to her sides. “I took off that horrid dress,” she called.

“Wasn’t that enough?”

The voice returned, sharp and angry. “Enough excuses, Starlighter! If you continue with this charade, you will employ your precious boots and trudge home through the snow.”

She dropped to her seat and pinched the laces at the back of one boot, tightly tied at the top. The knot was stubborn. It wouldn’t budge. She tried the other. No better. For some reason they had swelled, maybe from the drastic change in temperature. Of course she could cut them if she had a blade, but wishing for a knife wouldn’t make a real one appear.

“I can’t get them loose,” she called out.

The answer drifted past her like a soft breeze. “Do you want them off?”

“Don’t you want me to take them off? I thought I was supposed to prophesy and —”

“You failed to answer my question.”

Koren let out a sigh. “Okay. I’m not trying to claim ignorance, but I am confused. Can you at least give me a hint?”

“You have had more than your share of hints, and the power you need has already been granted. Examine yourself. Why do you have chains? To whom are you enslaved and why? And finally, do you really want your boots to come off?”

As Koren stared at the laces, the final question echoed throughout the room.
Do you really want your boots to come off?
It seemed so simple and the answer so obvious. Of course she wanted the boots to come off. Couldn’t the stranger behind the voice see how hard she had been trying to untie them?

The question continued to echo, softer and softer, the tone altering to a pleading lament, as though she wouldn’t have another chance if she didn’t respond before it faded completely.

Two words seemed to reverberate louder than the others—
really
and
your.
Do you
really
want
your
boots to come off?

Koren scowled, anger rising in hot flashes. Of course she
really
wanted the boots to come off. Why else would she be picking at the knots? How hard would she have to try to prove to this stranger that she really meant it?

Then, as if gasping for a dying breath, a final echo sounded, and
your boots
hung in the air like a foul odor. Koren wrinkled her nose.
Your boots?
She caressed the black leather with a gliding finger. These were
her
boots. Although Zena had ordered her to put them on, she could have refused. Would refusal have meant punishment? Probably. Death? Maybe. Still, no matter the consequences, she had a choice. Her boots, her chains, her acquiescence to Taushin’s dominion all were still a choice. She could have chosen pain. She could have chosen death. Either one would have been better than slavery.

Now the easing of the torture made sense. The Creator didn’t provide a respite as mere temporary relief; he simply provided her an opportunity to choose. The short pause in the pain had given her a moment of clarity, a chance to examine the options. Would she choose suffering and death instead of obedience to an evil power?

Ever since that moment, she had used pain as an excuse. She had explained away her actions by lifting her chains and bemoaning her slavery. She had given in to a slave’s mind-set and assumed that no power could set her free. Her boots had become comfortable, as had her chains.

She glared at the laces. She had tied them herself. And now their tightness relied on her own desire to keep her boots on. What did she really want?

She picked at the knot again. It stayed as tight as ever. As she continued working, the strings seemed to pulse, as if swelling and shrinking in her grasp. Manacles clamped around her wrists. Chains weighed down her arms. It was hard … so hard!

Taushin’s voice whispered within.
You are now mine, and you could not leave me if you tried. You would always come back … always. And when you learn to love me, the chains will become self-imposed, for you will not ever want to leave.

“No!” Koren ripped at the laces. The manacles dragged against her skin, peeling away the top layer. As heat roared through her body, she cried out, “I hate you! Boots, chains, slavery, I hate you!”

She jerked on the knot, ripping a nail, but the laces finally broke free. Yanking on the heel, she loosened the boot, then savagely kicked it off. She shifted to the other boot and tore through its knot, breaking its bond more easily. When that boot fell away from her foot, the manacles and chains vanished.

Sucking in shallow breaths, she looked at her bare feet, red and swollen. The swelling receded, and the color slowly faded to normal flesh tone. The boots lay near her dress, dirty smudges amidst the whiteness. There they would stay, even if she had to walk barefoot in the snow.

She climbed to a standing position. With a strong push, she gave her cloak a new spin. It swept around her legs, drawing cool air against her ankles and feet. The sensation felt wonderful, alive, liberating. Her feet danced unbidden, shifting her body into a sway. She lifted her arms, now lightweight and filled with energy.

“Starlight!” she called out. “Hear my command and release your secrets.” Her words then slid into a rhythmic cadence.

Starlight, a world less bright,
Forsaking wisdom’s call,
Starlight, explain your plight,
Reveal to me your all.

 

Like a dancer on a stage, Koren glided across the white expanse. As she waved her arms, her hands painted the air dark, whisking away the light in the room. The pristine chamber transformed into an evergreen forest illuminated by a twilight sky. A bright lantern sat in a grassy clearing and spread flickering yellow light all around, making a row of crystalline pegs sparkle on the ground. Several sheep lay close together in a makeshift cage of wood and wire, quiet and still, though their eyes stayed alert.

Not far away, a river bisected a valley, cutting through a verdant meadow. Beyond that, a castle sat nestled against the base of a snow-capped mountain. Three red turrets highlighted an upper floor, and a doorway on ground level stood open.

At the center of the forest clearing, Arxad stood beside two eggs in a wicker basket, apparently the same two eggs he had in the previous tale. Another dragon landed, his wings beating the air as he settled.

With his head low, Arxad caressed the top of an egg with his wing and spoke in the dragon language. “Magnar, I am grateful that you have come. It will be a long time until we see each other again.”

Magnar scooted close to Arxad but stayed well away from the eggs. “I will never forget your sacrifice. Your willingness to preserve this species has gone beyond what anyone could expect.”

“I cannot deny it. To most, I have played the fool by trying to save those who brought destruction upon themselves and untold suffering to our race.”

“It is not foolish to invest in our own preservation, but I understand. Many think you actually love these vermin. I would not want to carry the weight of that accusation.”

“Love them?” Arxad withdrew his wing from the egg. “I love our race, and I care for these humans out of respect for the Creator who deemed it necessary to use them in this fashion. I spend this time away from Starlight, from my mate, and from my fellow dragons to protect our species, not theirs.”

“Well spoken.” Magnar laid a wing over Arxad’s back. “As many disagreements as we have had, I will never forsake our vow. By the time you return, the Zodiac will be complete. Unlike the Basilica, it will be designed for dragons, and you will be the first high priest.”

Arxad bowed his head. “I am grateful.”

Magnar refolded his wing and looked at the eggs. “Have you already transported everything you need?”

“With the exception of these sheep. The lenses and the genetic testing equipment are already there. When the children are born, I will apply Orson’s tests to ensure that his chromosome sequences are in place, and I will leave updates here in a photo tube so that you can track my progress.”

“Excellent. I am sure Fellina will be pleased to check for your messages frequently.”

“Yes …” Arxad’s head drooped. “Fellina.”

“In any case,” Magnar continued, “with Tamminy’s prophecy looming over us, it will be important to see how the humans progress. They must be ready for when we need them.”

“But no gunpowder.”

Magnar shook his head. “When the prince is born, we will need their numbers. If they had gunpowder, they would be able to subdue us again.”

“Very well.” Arxad gently pushed an egg past the row of pegs. It disappeared. He did the same with the second egg. As soon as it faded from view, he took to the sky and circled once around the clearing. He then swooped down, grasped the sheep pen with his back claws, and flew over the portal line, instantly vanishing.

The entire scene faded with him, leaving Koren alone in the white expanse, save for her black dress and boots lying on the floor. She released her cloak and let it settle, then looked around the room.

“What now?” she called. “What do I do about Exodus?”

The room faded from white to various shades of brown, the colors of the rocks in the star chamber. The curved wall within Exodus, now smooth and clear, gave the chamber’s boundaries a vibrant sheen, but they seemed to be moving.

Koren looked down. The floor lay a hundred feet below, and the gap widened with every second. Above, the exit point at the top of the mountain grew brighter.

She and Exodus would soon emerge into the sky to begin their journey.

Her dress and boots appeared at the corner of her eye, lying in a heap between her and the star’s wound. That wouldn’t do, not here in Exodus. Those foul clothes had to go.

She gathered the bundle into her arms and pushed it into the wound. As the sides stretched out, a terrible pain ripped through her arms and legs, like someone had grabbed her skin and tried to tear it loose.

When the clothes finally popped through and fell toward the floor, the hole eased back to its original size, and the pain slowly ebbed. What a relief! Now Exodus could rise unencumbered, powered by a healthy Starlighter.

As she watched the boots strike the floor, light from the star’s upper boundary streamed down and passed through the wound. Exodus’s ascent slowed, becoming almost imperceptible.

Koren turned and set her back against the escape hole, blocking the light’s exit. Above, the mountain’s opening lay only a few feet away. Would she make it? Was there still enough light from her tale to push Exodus past the rim?

Just as the top of the star reached the exit, it stopped and began a slow drift downward.

“No!” Koren shouted. “Not now! We were almost there!”

The star’s descent hastened. Its outer membrane bumped against the sides of the passageway, breaking rocks and sand from the walls.

“Starlight!” Koren shouted, lifting her arms from where she sat. “Hear my command and release your secrets!”

As the rough slide continued, it seemed that dragon claws scratched her own skin, digging toward her bones. No words came to mind. Like a spilled pitcher, she felt empty and without hope of being filled.

A light at the center of the sphere came into view, a shining dome with flashing spires floating head high, like a radiant crown waiting for a queen. Sparks drizzled from the dome and rained to the star’s floor.

Koren gazed at the dazzling display. Had Taushin been right about a crown after all? Brinella had said that she couldn’t relay Starlight’s tales from the side of the sphere. She had to be at the center. But could someone tell a tale from that point, inflate the star, and run back to the hole to keep the energy from leaking out? It seemed impossible.

She climbed to her feet and half ran, half skidded to the center. Ducking under the dome, she allowed the sparks to trickle over her head. Immediately hundreds of words flashed through her mind and then poured out her mouth, so quickly she couldn’t understand them. Light pulsed with every word, and the energy flowed toward the ceiling.

Exodus slowed its descent until it halted, then, as if pushed by a lazy laborer, began ascending once more, crawling along at a frustratingly slow pace. Yet the star again drew close to the exit—so close that if she were to ride on top, she could easily reach up and grab the rim.

As before, light streams crawled down the sphere’s sides and filtered out the wound. The top third of Exodus poked out of the mountain’s cone and stopped before easing down once again.

“No!” Koren cried. “I’m doing everything I can!”

Even as she spoke, the stardrop, still shining on the floor, caught her attention. There
was
more she could do. Unless Exodus rose again, there would always be need of pheterone reserves and slaves to drill for them. Even if she could get the star to fly, the remedy it provided wouldn’t last, not without constant superhuman effort. There was no way she could keep up this frantic pace. And who could tell if Taushin would honor his word and free the slaves during the short time she could keep Exodus aloft?

Natalla came to mind again, her wrists clamped in manacles. Petra entered next, blood oozing from between her lips as she wept over her severed tongue. Finally, Lattimer appeared in front of her, his mouth agape as she finished telling her very first Starlighter tale. She dropped to her knees and repeated the closing phrase she had uttered not so long ago. “May the Creator of All guide me as I seek the path to enlightenment and the succor that a girl of my age needs in this dark and dangerous world.”

Lattimer pinched the stardrop and set it in front of Koren’s eyes. “Freedom from chains is not the end of the journey, dear Starlighter. It is only the beginning. Every step from here to eternity has the potential for tears as we sacrifice, as we bleed for others, as we take their burdens upon ourselves. We must be willing to stand in flames for them.” He pressed the stardrop closer to her eyes. “As I did for you.”

His words echoed through her own lips. “As I did for you.”

When Lattimer faded, the stardrop once again sat at the lowest point of the sphere. Below, the chamber’s floor drew closer, illuminated by Exodus’s light.