Diviner by Bryan Davis
Brushing away new tears, Constance looked past the ceiling and let her mind fly to the North. It was time to plan a way to escape, but it would be impossible without help, especially with everyone in lockdown. Yet there was one slave who seemed to enjoy more freedom than any other. Even though she had given in to Taushin’s tortures, maybe her heart had not yet been enslaved.
“Creator,” she said out loud. “Help me find Koren. Maybe together we can figure out how to end this madness.”
The sound of flapping wings echoed throughout the cave — two dragons, probably Fellina and Xenith. Constance shot to her feet and brushed off her apron. She would have to pretend to be an obedient servant, at least until she could learn where Koren might be.
three
Koren lifted her leg and scaled the final step. Tremors rippled through her muscles. On the landing, she halted and mopped her brow with the edge of her hood. Hunger and thirst gnawed at her stomach, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, yet she had to press on. The worst part of the journey might still lie ahead. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the sliding door that led into the castle’s massive foyer, every sense on alert for a sign of Taushin.
Although he had often spoken in her mind before they reached the Northlands, he had been silent ever since. Maybe the castle provided some sort of protection from his probing presence. Could he see through her eyes anymore? If he could, there would be no getting by him. He would have seen all and would know her location. If not, though, there was some chance she could slip by, or at least pass off her new direction as a continued search for Exodus. There was only one way to find out.
Pressing her hard-soled boots down lightly, she passed by the open wall and glided through the castle’s entry room. Light poured in from the wide doorway, casting a ray of sunshine across the marred wooden floor. Without daring to peek outside, she lifted her hood over her head, turned to the right, and scooted toward a huge corridor.
Where are you going?
Taushin’s voice.
Koren halted, her heart sinking. She leaned back and looked. He stood at the bottom of the portico stairs, his eyebeams locked on her. This was her only chance to learn what he could and couldn’t see. “To search the rest of the castle,” she called. “Haven’t you followed my progress?”
She waited through Taushin’s pause, her heart pounding as she forced herself to breathe evenly.
Continue your exploration, he finally said. Just remember that haste is essential.
Koren walked into the corridor. “Why?” The word echoed through the cavernous space.
Because I hold … His voice died away.
She kept walking. So, being near the door allowed Taushin access to her mind, and now he couldn’t finish his reply. Why was haste essential? Learning what he held might be helpful, but going back into his zone of influence wasn’t exactly her first choice. The farther away from Taushin she wandered, the better she felt.
As she walked, her footfalls echoed in the massive hallway. For some strange reason, it seemed that a bubble of light surrounded her. Crystals embedded in the walls sparkled in an array of colors, briefly highlighting a portion of a long mural. With each step, a new portion shone. As she moved, it seemed that the mural on the right moved with her, a white dragon with shining blue eyes repositioning its wings with each new appearance as if it were flying at her pace. From mouth and nostrils, it blew a river of white crystals that sparkled like sunlit ice.
She looked to the left. Another dragon flew on that side, a black one with red eyes. It breathed a torrent of flames with specks of orange and yellow almost too bright to behold.
When she neared the end of the corridor, a huge, arching entryway came into view straight ahead, leading into another chamber. She stopped at the boundary and peered inside. A network of roots and vines covered the floor, or perhaps they were the floor itself.
Her surrounding aura dimmed, but a lantern on each inner wall provided enough light to illuminate a few details. Beds lined the walls to the left and right, maybe four on each side. They appeared to be neatly made and empty. Two ragged holes interrupted the floor’s woody network, one large and one small. Apparently this floor was too fragile to walk upon, though a dragon might fly in without a problem and perhaps deposit a human on one of the beds.
To her right, another corridor, not quite as large as the first, stretched out into darkness. With a solid marble floor, it seemed to be the safer option. Letting her boots strike the hard surface noisily, she marched that way. If anyone came out to check on the noise, she could ask to see the white dragon. Maybe calling would be even better.
Still walking, she lifted her voice enough to compete with her footfalls. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
“I am here,” a feminine voice replied from behind her. Koren halted and spun around. No one was there.
“Who said that?”
“I did.” A wisp of light shaped like a girl curtsied. “I am Deference.” As soon as she straightened, she vanished.
Koren slid a step closer and tried to find her in the dimness. “Have you been following me all this time?”
“Only since you came out of the star chamber.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“The king said I was to remain quiet until you called. He knew you wouldn’t be able to see me while I was behind you, and whenever you stopped, I stopped. You can’t see me unless I move.” She swayed back and forth, appearing again and creating a new aura all around. She looked to be about fifteen years old, her hair and eye color impossible to discern.
Koren pointed at her. “So you made the light while I walked.”
“I did, but the light works only in these corridors. It has something to do with the jewels in the walls.” Deference spread out her hands, a sheepish expression evident in her glowing face. “But I have no idea how it works.”
“That’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to know every mystery in this strange castle.” While the glow remained, Koren looked at one of the walls in the new corridor. The design resembled a girl inside a sphere. With red hair, green eyes, and a blue cloak, she had to be a Starlighter.
Koren pointed at the wall. “Is that Brinella?”
“Brinella?” Deference turned toward the mural, brightening the aura again. She gave a light shrug. “I don’t know her name, and I’ve never heard of Brinella.”
Koren pressed her lips together. This interrogation might not provide many answers. She pointed down the hall. “Is the white dragon in that direction?”
“He is, but you’ll never find him without a guide.”
“Will you be my guide?”
Sweeping her arm out in front, Deference bowed low. “It would be an honor.”
“Then lead the way. The last thing I want is to get lost.”
Deference ambled down the hall, her light illuminating the murals lining the corridor.
Lowering her hood, Koren followed. To the right, the Starlighter in the sphere floated alongside. She changed positions at times, from sitting to standing to walking. She certainly looked like Brinella, perhaps a little younger.
To the left, another mural appeared, this one a reflection of herself, a redhead dressed in black—the same dress and boots, but no Starlighter cloak.
As Koren glanced between the two, they seemed to emerge from the walls, taking on minute details and vibrant colors. Brinella’s eyes shone green, and her hair looked pomegranate red. The girl in black had eyes of ebony, Zena’s blank eyes, barren and lost.
Koren shuddered. Was her Starlighter gift doing this? Was she making the images animate? What other explanation could there be?
As if brought to life, Brinella called out from the painting, “Starlighter, why have you used your gift to seize the minds of those who lack your vision without providing sustenance for their starving spirits?”
The girl in black replied, her tone sour. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. They enslaved me. They put me in chains.??
“I know,” Brinella said. “Starlight showed me every cringe and cry, but your protest does not provide an answer to my question. When your listeners withdrew from the world and awaited your wisdom, why did you forsake them by running away? Why did you not impart your wisdom?”
“Because I was in trouble. I had to run. And I didn’t know I was supposed to say anything to them. Even if I did know, I had no idea what to say. I have no wisdom to impart.”
“Ah! Now there is a faithful answer. But did you ever consider the fact that you have an extraordinary gift, a talent too wonderful to fully comprehend? When you realized that you had control over the dragons, why did you choose to flee rather than to persuade them to join your cause? And this power is merely one of many gifts you possess. You will learn that even the scrapings of the skin of Exodus can provide healing. Did you not know that such gifts must carry with them a responsibility to use them wisely? Or did you take them in stride and not seek the counsel of the Creator who fashioned you for greatness?”
“Why didn’t Arxad tell me what to do?”
“Arxad?” Brinella said. “How is a dragon, even a good and noble one, to know what the Creator wishes for you to do? How can he discern your path? Only the Creator can provide that knowledge.”
“If the Creator knows my path, then how can I do anything but walk on it?”
“Oh, my dear Starlighter, you always have the choice to depart from the path. It is set there so that you may fulfill your part in the Creator’s purposes, but you are free to step away. The Creator is able to find another to take your place.”
Koren stared at the girl in black. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing the twisted face of a demonic twin. Was she transforming into this phantasm? A dark reflection of herself who answered every challenge with an excuse?
Shuddering, she shook her head. No. It couldn’t be. At least it wouldn’t be. She would stay on the path and battle Taushin and Zena. Somehow she would free her people.
Deference stopped. She and her aura dimmed, and the visions evaporated.
“We’re here,” Deference said.
Double doors, white and reflective, stood closed before them. A pair of black wooden handles protruded near the center, each one carved into the shape of a dragon’s head. As large as the Zodiac’s entry doors, these could easily have allowed a dragon to pass through, but the handles appeared to be too small for a dragon to grasp.
Deference waved a hand toward the entrance. “This is as far as I can take you.”
“Thank you for being my guide,” Koren said. “I suppose I could have found it myself, though.”
Deference shook her glowing head. “You would not have found it. Everyone needs a guide.” She turned and walked away, skipping at times as she hurried down the hall. Soon her aura turned down a branching passageway and disappeared, leaving only a dim light that seemed to radiate from the walls.
Koren pivoted back to the doors. She reached out and touched an ear on one of the dragon heads. With all the strangeness in this castle, she half expected the dragon to snap at her, but it remained still and silent. She slowly spread her fingers over the handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. She tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t move, not even an inch.
The dragon within her palm grew warm, then hot. She jerked away. The dragon head had turned white, or at least the part she had touched was white. She grasped the other handle and pushed and twisted to no avail. It, too, turned hot and white.
Koren set her palms on the massive door. She braced her boots on the tiles, lowered her body, and pushed again, grunting with the effort. Nothing. She might as well have been a black mouse shoving a white elephant. At least then a squeak might get his attention.
She halted. A squeak? Well, it was worth a try.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone there?”
No one answered.
She set her knuckles against the door. Might a knock be appropriate? Her fellow humans knocked on doors, but his was the domain of a dragon. He might not appreciate such a vulgar way of gaining attention.
Shrugging, she rapped on the door. Again, no one answered. She rapped a second time, but the doors stood in motionless silence.
She let out a huff. Why would Deference lead her here if there was no way to get in? It just didn’t make sense.
As she turned away, a low, masculine voice drifted by. “Whom do you seek?”
Koren searched for a source, but it seemed as if the voice permeated the air. “I wish to see the white dragon.”
“A wish? As a child hopes for sweetbread? Many human children cast their wishes to the stars, but their prospects for a response are the same as yours.”
Koren glanced around. The corridor remained empty. “You mean my wish won’t be fulfilled?”
“Answer for yourself. How well did the star respond to your wish when you cast it?”
“If you mean my wish to help her resurrect the star, it was more of a suggestion, and it didn’t work out very well. Brinella didn’t believe me. She thinks I’m a sorceress.”
“A fair assumption, considering your choice of dress. She has seen a sorceress dress in a similar manner.”
Koren resisted the urge to look at her clothing. It probably wouldn’t do any good to protest his use of choice. Grinding her teeth, she glared at the door. “Does that mean I won’t be able to see the white dragon?”
“That depends.”
She waited for him to continue, but he apparently wanted her to ask the obvious question. “Depends on what?”
“You are a Starlighter. Will you tell me a tale?”
“Uh … sure. I can do that.” She tapped a foot on the floor. “Do you have a preference? Something true? Or something I make up?”
“Oh, definitely something true. I wish for you to relate a very old tale. Show me your origins, how you came to this world.”
Focusing on one of the dragon heads, she pointed at herself. “Do you mean me, personally, or humans in general?”
“It makes no difference. Either will suffice.”
Koren spread out her cloak. “I will see what I can do.” She turned toward the star chamber. Although it was nowhere in sight and far below her level, it seemed easy to locate in her mind. After seeing Brinella, her own abilities made much more sense. Brinella collected the tales of Starlight and sent them out for gifted listeners to gather, streams of whispered tales that spread throughout the atmosphere, ready to be plucked and spoken again.
Taking in a breath, Koren gathered the invisible stories. Then she stooped and set a finger on the floor. A form took shape under her touch, growing as she raised her hand. The form expanded into a dragon with scales of red. She touched another spot on the floor, raising a second dragon, this one with tawny hues. She then lifted her arms, and called out, “In the midst of turmoil, death, and despair, two young dragons emerged from their hiding places, escapees from slavery who faced decisions of enormous import, decisions that could drastically alter their world.”
Around the dragons, scenery appeared—a gravel path winding through a field of lush grass, leading to a cluster of low buildings in the distance. A white picket fence demarked a border for several grazing sheep that seemed to be unconcerned with the presence of dragons. A lone human male knelt in front of the dragons, his hands clasped as if in entreaty.
With every detail painted throughout the corridor, it seemed to Koren that she stood in the midst of it. She crouched and felt the grass, soft and supple. A sheep bleated, only to be interrupted by the man’s pleading voice.
“I beg of you, Magnar. You and Arxad are our only hopes.” Dressed in a clean white smock and gray trousers, the man looked ready for inside work rather than for the labors of a farm. “My two sons have already perished,” he continued, “but my daughter shows no signs of the disease. Can
Magnar glanced at Arxad before extending a wing to help the man rise. “Orson, you know this disease better than any of us do. Can you say with all honesty that your daughter cannot carry the disease to Darksphere even if she has not yet contracted it?”
With terror in his eyes, Orson shifted his gaze from Magnar to Arxad and back to Magnar. His entire body quaked. “I … I don’t know. It’s possible for her to be a clean vessel if we—”
“Possible?” Magnar said. “If you want the human race to survive, we have no room for possible. We must deal only with certainty. If your daughter dies along with the countless thousands of others, what price is that for ultimate survival? She will be just another human who succumbed to the disease you brought upon yourselves.”
“Magnar,” Arxad said, “she is not just another human to Orson. I suggest that you offer a bit more compassion.”
“Compassion?” Smoke spewed from Magnar’s nostrils. “Was it compassion that drove humans to enslave our race? Was it compassion that compelled them to plunge a spear into the heart of our guiding star? No! They have no knowledge of compassion. They seek only comfort, freedom from labors, selfish satisfaction. They prefer to heap misery upon others, refusing to listen to the warnings provided from above. Instead of heeding, they attacked. Such fools deserve no compassion.”
Arxad waved a wing at Orson. “You know he is not one of the fools. He has never owned a dragon, and he has often spoken against our enslavement.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” His eyes glowing red, Magnar clawed the ground. “But did he not continue friendship with the taskmasters? While he imbibed with the intoxicated in comfort, our kind continued to toil in chains. He who numbers himself with the guilty, even if not participating in their deeds, will find himself washed away in the flood of righteous retribution.”