Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) (16 page)

With a knowing smirk, Davenport continued. “And by amplifying an area rich in quantum foam, we can magnify the event horizon past the Planck scale by...how much would you say?”

Another student connected in, answering, “That depends on the vibration frequency and power applied, sir.”

“Yes, very good,” Davenport continued. “But once that's done, all we have left in order to secure a handle...or if you prefer, a wormhole...is to do what, exactly?”

Sten knew this, but didn't want to answer two questions in the same lecture. It always annoyed him when other students would do that. Seemed presumptuous, somehow.

The professor's image flickered, and Sten blinked. Did he have a bad connection? Annoyed when it happened again, he tapped his earbud and decided he'd call his provider to complain once the lecture was over. It flickered again. Didn't anyone care about providing good service, anymore? What was going on?

“Anyone?” Davenport asked, but then put his hand to his ear. “Oh dear,” he said. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform,” it crackled out, then resumed, “must end this session prematurely...” There were groans and whispers over the line, but then people started falling out of the session. Lots of them. “Please forgive the-” and then Davenport's signal was cut out too.

The building Sten was in shuddered, glass shattering in the next room. An alarm sounded, informing everyone to evacuate the building.

Frightened and confused, Sten got up and walked unsteadily to the window-wall, turning off the flickering shade circuit. Looking outside, he saw why people were still falling out of the network. Fire and smoke were rising from all across the citadel, and he could see several massive buildings falling, crumbling down as he watched in horror. His fascination with what he saw next compelled him to stay at the window despite his fear. He could hardly believe his eyes.

In the sky were at least three great black dragons, so dark they seemed to suck the very light out of the air. They were ripping the citadel apart as though its massive chrystum structure were nothing more than frail strands of paper being blown about by the wind. He shrank down as one dragon screamed past his window, followed closely by five men in black and silver flight armor. Brigadier Knights! Thank the stars! Maybe there was a chance they'd survive this after all!

The entire building was rocked to the side more than a meter from what must have been the huge beast's tail damaging the exterior wall. Sten heard a sharp cracking sound, and saw a hairline fracture spider across his large window. The battle came round again as the dragon and Knights circled back to where Sten could see their aerial struggle through the glass.

Smoke contaminated the air, and Sten was coughing, his eyes stinging and watering. He felt so weak, so helpless. So fragile. All the security he'd thought he had mere moments ago was nothing more than an illusion, and here he was, suddenly faced with the absurdity of his petty pride. It was a cold, hard reckoning. There was so much he could have done differently. If only he had another chance...

The dragon and the Knights rendered the air in front of him into a floating battlefield, one of the Knights slashed in twain by the tail of the beast. Sten felt his stomach lurch, but couldn't turn his eyes away. Two other Knights tried to move in, but the dragon was just too fast for them, and they also fell. One more to its deadly twisting tail, and another to its powerful claws. Snapped like dry tinder as the battle moved in a tight swirl of activity through his cracked window.

The last thing Sten saw were the solid white eyes of the great black dragon as it swooped around at him, its gaping maw sundering forth a deeply splitting roar. “Oh God,” he whispered, reflexively raising his arms in a useless gesture to protect himself, right before the large window exploded in at him and his world went completely dark.

A new dragon war had begun.

“Mtumba, do you think we'll be okay?”

“What do you mean? We're okay now.”

“Well, I guess so, but I'm worried about what Mama Teke said the other night around the fire.” Stella shifted in the bunk, hung over the edge, and saw Mtumba lying there with his arms behind his head, looking up. Stella whispered again, “You know, about Rok. About us. About whatever it is that's coming for us. I think he has allergies.”

Mtumba laughed. “Sorry, no idea. And our life hasn't exactly been a cakewalk, recently, in case you hadn't noticed.” He yawned, blinking once and turned onto his side mumbling, “Besides, I'm sure Rok'll be fine. Mama Teke said he had to talk to some guardian, and then he'd be fine. We’ll all be fine.” The exhaustion was evident in his voice, but Stella wanted to talk about this now.

“That's not what she said.” Stella felt agitated, and scowled at Mtumba.

“Go to sleep,” Mtumba muttered. “We can worry about it tomorrow. When we're awake.” He yawned again, and snuggled deeper into the corner of the bottom bunk to escape her questions. “I'm tired.”

“Fine,” Stella sighed, annoyed, sliding onto her back. “But I wish we could talk about it.”

“We can,” Mtumba mumbled back with a small laugh. “Tomorrow.”

She shivered, and adjusted the covers, her only companion the steady buzz of the ship as they passed through the spectral storm toward Altonas. They'd be there sometime tomorrow, Captain Eli had assured them at dinner. Apparently, it was really far from the Garden Citadel. She missed it already. She'd felt safe there with Mtumba's family, and was having trouble understanding why they had to leave, but Mama Teke had said that when the ancestors spoke, you either listened and did what they said, or ended up in a big heap of trouble. Stella said a silent prayer for her friends, and eventually managed to drift off to sleep. They had a busy day tomorrow, and she needed to get some rest.

Stella's dreams were troubled, and she woke up tired. At breakfast, Mtumba looked at her from across his bowl of grop and winced at her expression. “You should eat,” he said, concerned, taking a big bite. He rolled his eyes up, made a face, but swallowed. Then he shrugged. “Not so bad, and who knows, there might not be anything this tasty on Altonas,” he grinned. Stella shot him a look of annoyance, her bowl of grop untouched. Rok laughed and took a bite of his own food.

Kita just smiled and shook her head, standing to go up front for her monitoring shift in the cockpit. Turned out she had an unusual knack for flying. She put her hand gently on Eli's shoulder as they passed each other, and Skippy beeped indignantly as he floated over to refill the grop dispenser.

Captain Eli smiled at Kita, and then joined the kids at the table, speaking before taking a bite of his own grop. “Jokes about the ship food notwithstanding, Mtumba’s right.” He chewed, swallowed, and then spoke again, pointing his spoon at Stella. “A picky eater's gonna be hungry most of the time down there. Trust me. I know.”

“You've been to Altonas before?” Stella asked.

“Been to lots of places,” Eli nodded, chewing more grop. “But I've gotta say, Altonas is strange, being so close to the uncharted territories.” He saw their blank expressions.

“A lotta strange things going on out there, from what I hear. Dragon cults and the like.” Rok and Mtumba's ears perked up, and Stella smiled to herself. Talking about dragons always seemed to pique boys' curiosity for some reason. She wasn't sure why, but didn't mind that they had taken an interest in the conversation, so didn't interrupt the Captain.

“Never understood why any sane person would want to live there,” Eli continued, shaking his head, “but a friend of mine a few years back had real strong opinions on it.” He laughed then shrugged and went back to eating.

“What did he tell you?” Stella prodded.

“Well...” Eli chuckled, and they all leaned in closer, hungry for the details. “He said there was some old magic creature that lived deep in the earth, and that he was going there to find it. You know, to figure out how to talk to it or something.” Eli leaned back and spread his hands. “If you believe in that sort of thing,” he snorted, smiling at them.

None of the kids were laughing though, and Eli searched their faces, trying to understand what their deal was. The teenagers exchanged glances. Rok sneezed, and then shrugged. Mtumba nodded, and spoke, his face serious.

“Did he say what the creature was called?”

Eli looked at him warily, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, looking at Mtumba out the corner of his eye as he tried to recall the conversation. “I think he called it...the ancient. Or maybe the guardian. Some kind of...ancient...guardian...thing. Why are you so curious about it, anyway?” he asked as he resumed eating. Rok was the one who answered, his eyes bloodshot, but his voice bordering on reverent.

“Because she is who we're here to see.”

19

Rama looked at Fox and smiled congenially as he flew her over the mountains toward the port. “Sorry you couldn't stay longer, Eli. It was wonderful to see you, though. Anything else you'd like to do before you return to the stars?”

When they landed in the windryder lot, Rama offered to walk Fox to the gate. Clearly, he missed his old friend. It was somewhat sad, Fox mused, and felt a small twinge of regret, but that quickly dissipated as she lifted her hand to feel the amulet resting beneath her shirt. Once she got back on her ship and her anonymous employer verified that she'd deleted the information on it, Fox would be rich enough to buy a new ship. Maybe one with visual cloaking capabilities. She smiled at the possibilities as they got close to the edge of the parking lot.

A little airbot floated over, beeped in surprise, and then zipped back the way it had come. “Funny,” she muttered, and suddenly felt her stomach lurch as she saw someone she hadn’t expected.

In front of her was a face she recognized, flanked by four she didn't, three of them teenagers. She felt a sharp pain in her chest...She'd been far too slow. Or was he just that fast? Her pulse gun slipped from her fingers, clattering on the flexiphalt. Kark!

“Rama?” the real Captain Eli Hawk asked with confusion. He stood there, still holding his pulse-gun after having nailed Fox squarely in the chest. Fox already felt her body shutting down, and grunted as the pain was swiftly replaced with a silent darkness. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was Rama's voice.

“Well, Eli, this is quite a surprise.”

Fox couldn't summon the will to move, and her senses felt dulled. Seeing and hearing were both only achieved with some serious effort, and even then were only marginally effective. She gasped at the exertion her observations required, and was forced to relax her grip on reality.

“Is he awake?” a female voice said.

“Not quite,” answered a voice that sounded like Rama. “I wonder who he is. Or what? Who knows what those things were that we found in his bags.”

“I'm not sure it matters. We should get rid of him, whatever the case. He's obviously dangerous, and I don't want him around Nya. He shot Wendell, Rama. Not to mention, he tried to steal my amulet.”

“Wendell's fine, dear. He was just tied up in the cellar.”

Another shock and Fox drifted back into the darkness.

When Fox eventually woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was shackled around her wrists and ankles. They were big, heavy, and made of iron. The chains binding them gave her enough room to stand up, but not to move freely around the room. She almost didn't believe it, and laughed at the absurdity, at least until she tried to slip out of the restraints. The stone cell offered only a dull echo in response to her attempts at freeing herself.

“Seriously?” she cursed, and tried again.

Her manacles didn't budge from where they gripped her limbs, and simply dug into her skin as she moved. She pulled, pried, and yelled, but nothing worked. These manacles were fastened tight, and nothing she could do seemed to matter. She remembered her lock-hacking kit, and awkwardly searched in her pockets for it, the chains clunking noisily...but of course they'd taken everything useful from her while she'd been unconscious.

“Kark,” she muttered. This was not a good.

She was cold and alone, definitely not on the list of her favorite things. The only light in the holding room trickled in from under the wooden doorway in front of her. There was straw next to her, and two buckets. One with water, and the other one...she could guess what that was for. This was medieval, barbaric even, but she would escape once an opportunity presented itself. This time, she wouldn't set her pulse-gun to stun, Fox decided grimly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. The light nearly blinded her, silhouetting her warden against the area beyond. She couldn't make it out. It hurt her eyes, and she had to look away for a moment. When she looked back, she saw it was Rama. He looked sad.

“Don't look at me like that,” Fox snapped at him, and he sighed, sitting down cross-legged in the threshold. He pushed a tray of food toward her. Bread, soup, seaweed salad, and a cold glass of cider. There were two sticks for her to eat with...chopsticks. How quaint. Maybe she could stab him in the eye with one of them. She considered if she could do it from here, taking stock of the length of the chains that bound her. She decided it wasn't an option right now.

Instead, Fox decided to eat, and started by drinking the soup, which was rich and comfortably warm. She glared at Rama, but he sat unmoved, merely watching her with a calm expression. She wasn't going to let him manipulate her, though.

“So, what do you want from me?” She snarled, and took a big bite of the bread, which she had to admit tasted delicious. She washed it down with some cool cider, and slammed the leather mug onto the floor. “What do you want?” she yelled, then lowered her voice. “It must be something, or I wouldn't still be alive. So what is it?”