Warrior (7 page)

Arxad’s tone sharpened. “If you continue acting like the queen of this world, young lady, you will get yourself and Jason killed, and your quest to free your species will be destroyed.” He gave her a hefty shove, forcing her to walk with him. “Let us go from this place before Magnar returns, and I will give you as much information as I can later.” He stopped and gave her a mock bow of his head. “That is, of course, if Her Majesty grants permission.”

Elyssa set her hands on her hips and faced the dragon. “Look, to me you’re part of an evil group of monsters who brutally enslave my people—men, women, and children—and you use their backbreaking labors to help you live at ease. I am in no mood to be mocked with sarcastic labels of queen, Her Majesty, or even young lady.” She pointed a finger at his snout. “You promised to do what I say, so until you prove yourself to be something more than a cowardly beast, I will decide what we do, where we go, and when we depart. Got that?”

“Add impetuous wench to that list of labels,” Arxad growled. “If your brain worked as well as your tongue, we would be halfway to Jason by now.”

Firming her lips, Elyssa stared into his eyes. The fire within seemed to crackle with life, slinging daggers of scorn. His words sliced through her pride. He was right. Her anger at dragon cruelty had boiled her passions to a frothing frenzy, and her tongue had fanned the flames. She had ignored her own words.
An enemy’s prisoner is an ally indeed.
It didn’t make sense to keep driving verbal swords into this dragon’s heart.

She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head. “I’m sorry. My emotions got the best of me.”

Arxad stared at her for several seconds before glancing back at the tunnel of light. “The energy particles surely affected your judgment.” He gave her a gentle push with his wing. “Our accounts are settled. Let us go.”

As they walked through the new tunnel, dimness enfolded their bodies. A single lantern mounted on one of the walls guided them forward. About fifty paces beyond the first one, another lantern illuminated the path farther ahead, as if handing them off from one island of light to another.

“Who trims the lanterns?” Wallace asked.

Arxad continued shuffling behind them, his wings drooping and his head low. “That had been my duty.”

Elyssa let Arxad’s melancholy statement stir in her mind.
Had been.
Obviously an indicator that he no longer expected to resume his normal activities, maybe not ever. “How many other priests are there?” she asked.

“We have seven priests, and this year I am the high priest.”

“Why would the high priest take care of such a menial task as trimming lanterns?”

“A menial task is best undertaken by one who has been exalted to a high status. It reminds him of his lowly estate and who lifted him from the ashes.”

Elyssa pondered his words again. They reflected a maxim she had memorized from the Code back when she was a little girl, a short time before the book was outlawed in Mesolantrum.
Humility is an elusive prize. The proud wear it as a badge, gladly reciting their sins as proof of their low estate. Yet true humility is as quiet as the silence of dawn. Its bearer waits in twilight for the opportunity to bless. When Solarus rises, the deeds of the humble man are easily seen, deeds of service that boast neither of accomplishments nor imperfections. His righteousness crowns him with a halo that requires not a single word, a crown he neither wants nor sees, yet it glows with an unspoken testimony that rises to heaven to please the master who places it upon his head.

Wallace interrupted her reverie. “And do the other dragon priests take over these functions when it’s their turn?”

“I have trimmed these and other lanterns ever since I took my Zodiac vows. Shedding light in dark places is good for my soul.”

Elyssa glanced at Wallace. Arxad didn’t really answer the question. Was he deflecting criticism of his fellow priests? Probably. Arxad brought back memories of Benjamin, a clergyman in Mesolantrum, the only religious leader who ever stood up to Orion and his rabid persecution of anyone who displayed gifts of spiritual insight greater than his own—witches and Diviners, Orion called them. Benjamin swept the floors of the cathedral and polished every inch of brass. Passersby always knew when he was inside, anytime the huge doors stood wide open.

Elyssa sighed. Poor Benjamin. When his sixteen-year-old daughter was sentenced to perish in the flames of persecution, he preached her innocence to everyone who would listen, hoping pressure from the populace would sway Orion. Most of Mesolantrum ignored his plea. How could anyone but a Diviner or a witch know what Megan knew? She forecasted rain and drought. She knew how many people gathered in a room beyond her sight. And the proof that chafed Orion more than any other was her demeanor when the inquisitors verbally assaulted her without mercy. She always spoke with love, never flinching, returning blessings in exchange for their evil words.

Strangely enough, Orion used this as his ultimate evidence. No normal human could resist the overwhelming temptation to counter her opponents with a blistering retort. In her trial, he demonstrated his theory, allowing one clergyman after another to scream horrible invectives, whisper subtle insults about her “supposed” maidenhood, and even insult her departed mother. Yet, through all that abuse, she uttered simple truths, sprinkled liberally with grace, while never taking her eyes off her accusers.

Her calm spirit infuriated her interrogators and played perfectly into Orion’s plans. When Orion concluded in his final arguments that no one but a demon-possessed girl could act in this manner, the jurors were all too happy to sentence her to death. Apparently the light of her halo shone too brightly for their darkened eyes … and guilty consciences.

As Megan burned at the stake, Benjamin, though he wept well out of range of the fire, burned with her. He continued sweeping floors at the cathedral, withering with every stroke of his broom, and he died only a few weeks later.

“Elyssa,” Arxad said softly. “You seem pensive. Are you frightened?”

As she continued walking, she looked back at him. He had not called her by name before. In the glow of the next lantern, a tear sparkled in his eye. “I am sad,” she said, “as you also appear to be. What is troubling you?”

“If I explained, you still would not understand.”

She stopped and turned, forcing him to halt. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his chest. “You need not explain,” she said, her voice muffled in his scales. “I already understand.” She pulled away and gazed into his eyes. “The only part I don’t yet know is the identity of the one who died, the one whose death destroyed your faith in dragonkind.”

The fire in Arxad’s eyes dwindled. “Your wisdom exceeds my expectations. I apologize for misjudging you.”

“Will you tell me? A mate? An offspring?”

Arxad averted his gaze and spoke in a melancholy tone. “The final hope for this world and for dragonkind, or at least so I thought at the time. Now I believe there is another, and she could well save us all.”

“She?” Elyssa asked. “Do you mean Koren?”

“Come. I will explain while we are walking. We will soon reach the exit.” Arxad shuffled forward while Elyssa led Wallace at the dragon’s right flank. The dim path followed a gradual incline, rocky and uneven, with barely enough room for everyone to fit. At times Arxad had to duck low to avoid the ceiling.

“As a Starlighter,” Arxad said, “Koren possesses abilities she does not yet understand. The last time a Starlighter appeared, she exercised so much power, Magnar feared that she could topple his empire. In fact, she very nearly did, but it would take too much time to tell that story. I had hoped that she would fulfill the call of the Starlighter, but she delayed her decision, choosing to hide from Magnar’s persecution while pondering her options, and that delay proved to be her undoing.

“When Magnar captured her, he put her to death at the crystalline sphere from which you freed me. When it is used for executions, the slaves call it the cooking stake, because the victim is chained to it and slowly bakes. Very slowly. Because of Magnar’s anger, he forced the Starlighter to suffer for days.”

Elyssa imagined Koren chained to the stake, writhing in pain as her body cooked in the sphere’s torturous light. How terrible! The cruelty of these dragons knew no bounds. As she tightened her fists, it took all her strength to keep from bursting into a tirade. “What did you do about it?”

Arxad stayed silent for a moment as they continued walking. A brighter, constant light appeared in the distance, perhaps a hundred paces away, apparently the end of the tunnel. Finally, he answered with a sigh. “I had no power to stop the execution, so I prepared for her survival. Again, my methods would take too long to describe, but she lives on in spirit, separated from her body, and if all goes well, you will meet her in the Northlands.”

Elyssa relaxed her fingers. Yelling at Arxad for doing nothing to stop the murder wouldn’t do any good. She couldn’t possibly know how much torment he suffered while trying to decide how to help the Starlighter. Maybe he really had no choice. “Will Jason be in the Northlands?”

“That is his destination. Unless he has found faster transport, he has not had time to get there.”

“Then why are we sneaking through this place so slowly? Shouldn’t we be hurrying to catch up with him?”

“You are unaware of the events that delayed our arrival at the tunnel. At the moment I returned the key to its place in the mural corridor, Magnar discovered the empty chains. I flew Wallace out the main entrance, and we hid atop the roof in the shadows until Magnar exited, roaring for a cadre of dragons to join him in the hunt. I realized that he would have difficulty finding aid during this lockdown, so when he flew into the Basilica, we reentered the Zodiac and found you in your hypnotized state.

“Since Magnar likely believes that I escaped through the ceiling exit, his search will begin near the Zodiac and then spread out. Our hesitation will allow the searchers to depart the area. As I indicated earlier, this tunnel exits within a building we call the Basilica. From there, I can determine if it is safe for us to fly north.”

“Does Magnar know Jason is going to the Northlands?” Elyssa asked. “Won’t they hunt for him there?”

“They are already searching for an escaped assassin and now for me as well. They cannot afford to send dragon scouts into such a vast area until they are finished with other matters. Not only that, Magnar is unable to go beyond the great barrier wall, so he has forbidden all but the priests from crossing. If you knew Cassabrie’s story, you would understand.”

“Cassabrie? That’s the name you used when asking about the energy source in the other tunnel.”

“One moment.” Arxad stopped at the tunnel exit. The rough floor smoothed out into marble tiles, and the walls ended abruptly, looking like a dragon-sized hole leading into another building. He extended his neck and poked his head into the new chamber. After a few seconds, he brought it back and looked at Elyssa, his voice now whisper-quiet. “Cassabrie is the other Starlighter.”

“Her body is in there? Her corpse?”

“You must not speak of it. Very few know of her presence.”

“So this dead Starlighter is alive in spirit,” Elyssa said, matching his whisper, “and her body still emanates hypnotizing energy.”

“Your discernment has improved. I am impressed.”

Elyssa eyed the dragon. Was he being condescending? Maybe. He was hard to read. “How did Cassabrie get to the Northlands?”

Arxad looked into the chamber again. When his head returned, his tongue darted out and in, and his ears twitched. “I will tell you no more. We should find Jason and Koren before it is too late.”

“Why the hurry? You said we should wait until—”

“Never mind what I said. Seeing this room in the Basilica reminded me of an important issue.”

Elyssa tried to peek around him but to no avail. “What issue?”

“This was an antechamber that led into the incubator room where the black egg once resided. A temporary wall has been removed, so now the antechamber and incubator room have been combined. The warming jets have been turned off, meaning that the prince has likely hatched. Zena will be empowered to use her arts to destroy Jason from afar.”

“Zena?” Wallace repeated. “I’ve never seen her, but I’ve heard about her. Her name is practically a curse word among us slaves.”

“She was Cassabrie’s betrayer.” Arxad pushed through the hole and emerged into the incubator room. “Both of you climb on my back. We must fly with all speed.”

While Arxad sat low, Elyssa crawled up his scales, followed by Wallace. When they settled at the base of his neck, Elyssa held the spine in front of her, and Wallace wrapped his arms around her waist. She whispered, “We’re ready.”

As Arxad rose to his full height and spread out his wings, she swallowed hard and added in her mind,
I think.
To their left, far across the spacious chamber, two doorways led to corridors, while to their right, the floor ended at a railing that appeared to be a place to observe something at a lower level.

With a leap, Arxad flew toward the incubator room’s ceiling but quickly reversed course and retreated.

Elyssa squeezed the spine with both arms. This was rougher than riding one of Mother’s milking goats. Wallace seemed undisturbed, still hanging on lightly from the back. Maybe he had ridden many goats.

“The ceiling hole is not open,” Arxad called. “The other exit will be somewhat more difficult to negotiate without being seen.” He flew over the railing and dipped down into a dark room, the largest one yet. With a stage, a stone lectern-like pedestal, and space for a standing audience, it appeared to be a theater, while a log fire near the pedestal and a pair of kneeling altars on each side gave it the feel of a house of worship.

Arxad leveled out and, beating his wings slowly, flew toward a set of double doors to the left.

“They’re closed,” Wallace whispered into Elyssa’s ear.

“I see that. Maybe it opens when—”

“Hang on!” Arxad blew a stream of fire at the point where the two doors met. The flames splashed in a spray of orange and yellow arcs, and dry heat surged into Elyssa’s eyes. The doors didn’t budge.