Liberator (16 page)

He let out a sigh, maybe his last breath. Yes, hope was gone. The slaves had hoped for release but were struck down by disease instead. They had hoped for a warrior to come and break their chains, but only a bumbling kid trapped in ice and an old dungeon survivor remained. Everyone else had gone to the Northlands, much too far away to help. All was lost.

A tingling sensation brushed his face, warm and delicate. It moved to his throat, then to his chest, sending a wave of heat through his skin and into his heart and lungs.

“Are you alive?”

He snatched in a breath and forced his lips to separate. “Deference?”

“Shhh.” As a glowing hand moved over his body, the warmth spread across his abdomen and into his arms and legs. “I’m melting the ice. I’m not physical, but at least I can generate some heat.”

Randall’s muscles loosened, sending shivers erupting along every extremity. He hugged himself and shook violently. More ice crunched, and water seeped into his clothing, worsening the biting cold.

“Those shivers are awful. I’ll try to help.” Now fully visible, Deference lay on top of his body, chest to chest, and wrapped her arms around him. Her body’s glow strengthened. Tingling heat flowed everywhere, and Randall drew a long breath. The wetness increased, no longer icy cold, more like a warm bath.

After a minute or so, the shaking eased. Deference rose and stood at his side, a hand extended. Randall grasped it and rode her pull. The grip snapped loose, but not before he had set his feet firmly.

“How did you get in here?”

“I can slide through almost anywhere.” She spread out her glowing arms. “Having no body has its advantages.”

“Thank you. You saved my life.”

“You’re welcome.” Her head dipped low. “I wish I could have done the same for my mother.”

“Ten more seconds and it would’ve been too late for me.”

She touched his hand. “If you don’t mind, I think we should get going. We might have only delayed the killing.”

“You’re right.” Randall looked around. They stood in a dim corridor, high and wide, clearly large enough for a dragon. There was only one way to go — straight ahead.

He nodded into the darkness. “Let’s go.”

They hustled through the passageway, a steep incline that curved slightly to the right. After several seconds, daylight came into view as the passageway ended in a huge square window with nothing beyond it except bare sky.

Randall stopped at the opening—a ledge leading to a fifty-pace gap between the Zodiac and the Basilica where a similar window opened into darkness.

Deference leaned over the edge. “I guess Arxad flew me from here to the Basilica. I do remember floating.”

Randall knelt and looked down. A heather-covered lawn lay at least twenty feet below, not necessarily a fatal plunge but enough to break bones and rupture organs. A cart filled with hay sat under a tree to the left, much too far to reach with a jump.

A loud wail sounded from the front of the Zodiac.

Randall looked that way, then met Deference’s glowing gaze. “They’ve started the killing again,” she said. “We have to hurry.”

His jaw tightening, Randall turned back to the ledge. He spied a branch protruding from the tree off to the side. It would take a quite a leap to grab it, especially considering his stiff, aching legs. From there, if the branch
held his weight, it might be possible to work his way to the trunk and climb to the ground.

He looked toward Deference, but she was again invisible. “Can you get down?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you there.” Randall unhooked his scabbard and dropped it over the ledge. It fell in a slow spin and landed in the heather with a quiet thud. Taking a breath, he leaped for the branch and grabbed it with both hands. While he moved hand over hand toward the trunk, his body dangling as the branch swung, Deference slid down the Zodiac’s slick exterior, feet down and her chest against the wall. Tiny sparks flew wherever her fingers, toes, or clothing touched the marble surface.

When she reached the ground, she ran underneath him and looked up, her body slowly fading. “That looks hard.”

“No kidding.” A crack sounded from the branch at a point between his hands and the trunk.

“Uh-oh,” Deference said.

“No kidding again.” Randall looked down. Still almost twenty feet away, the ground would surely break something, maybe his neck. The cart filled with hay was closer now but too far too swing to, and the branch probably wouldn’t hold —

With a final crack of wood, Randall plummeted. The cart shot forward. He landed in the hay, breaking his fall. The cart collapsed under his weight, and he rolled out to the heather face down.

He pushed to all fours and shook his head. To his left, his scabbard lay just out of reach. The hilt jerked toward him, then slid sporadically until it touched his hand.

“We’d better go,” Deference said. “That is, if it’s all right with you.”

He grabbed the hilt. “Thanks again, for everything.”

A pull on his sleeve helped him rise to his feet. After reattaching his scabbard, he nodded. “Lead the way.”

His calf muscles threatening to cramp, he followed the ghostly girl around the Zodiac until the portico came into view. He backed against the wall and surveyed the scene.

Ice-covered bodies lay in a straight line with a field of frost all around. One of the Benefile sprayed ice over a woman lying at one end of the row, while two Southlands dragons looked on. Beyond the white dragon, a line of slaves stood as if waiting their turn to suffer the same fate.

“Why are they just standing there like sheep?” Randall asked, his voice tight with frustration. “Why don’t they run?”

“Taushin and his mother, Mallerin,” Deference whispered.

Even as she spoke, one of the men dashed away from the line. Almost lazily, Mallerin took aim and blasted him with fire. Completely ablaze, he staggered aimlessly, screaming, until he collapsed next to another smoldering body.

The other slaves looked on for a moment, then turned their sad faces toward the front of the line again. The weakest ones sat or reclined. Mothers carried crying children, trying to comfort them with gentle rocking or shushes. Teenagers looked at each other expectantly, as if wondering what had happened to the hope of deliverance. Some men stood or sat with slumped shoulders, their
faces downcast. Even from a distance it was apparent that they lamented their spinelessness. A few men tightened and loosened fists, giving furtive hand signals to each other, as if planning some kind of attack. Of course any unarmed venture would be suicide, but these square-shouldered men looked like the type who would risk anything to save their women and children.

Randall slowly drew out his sword. The slaves would either get deliverance, or he would die trying to provide it. “Can you create a distraction? Enough for me to sneak up on the dragon that’s freezing the people?”

“I’ll try.” Deference ran toward the portico, becoming brighter and brighter as she accelerated. “Hey!” she shouted, waving her arms. “Try to catch me!” She ran up the stairs and hopped through the doorway to the Zodiac.

One of the white dragons shot after her. “Continue the showers of mercy. I will find her.”

While the others watched the Zodiac door, Randall stalked toward the executioner dragon, grumbling, “I’ll show them some showers of mercy.”

S
itting behind her father, Koren let her cloak flap as the breeze whipped it back. Although riding on Alaph had its difficulties due to no spines to grab, his wings’ effortless beats made for an exhilarating ride. When she closed her eyes, it felt more like sitting still in the wind than soaring hundreds of feet in the air atop a dragon.

The few hours in flight provided plenty of time to connect with Exodus and gather tales from the past. It seemed that Cassabrie was intentionally filling the air with crucial stories, perfectly relevant for the times at hand. Some revelations proved to be astounding, including surprising tidbits about Zena and Taushin. Perhaps soon they could be told in order to help the slaves break their chains.

A new twinge of pain bit into her stomach. Every hour it was becoming clearer that the ointment wasn’t enough.
Should she and the others try swallowing it when her father made the next batch? She grimaced. It would be like crunching Cassabrie’s bone, chewing her flesh, and drinking her blood.

When they reached the barrier wall, Alaph landed on the north side at the river’s edge. With the gate still open, the current flowed freely, raising a reminder of past thoughts. Water would eventually find a way to its destination, whether over, under, or through its obstacles. If only the slaves would strive for freedom and liberation with the same effort the river gave as it churned toward lower ground. Passion of heart could overcome anything, even a huge barrier wall.

“Dismount,” Alaph said. “I placed the bag of explosives at my left flank. Take the tubes into the wall and place them in dry locations. Let us destroy the symbol of oppression that trapped those who wished to leave and repelled those who wished to enter.”

Still carrying the detonator in her pocket, Koren slid down. Her cloak billowed as she dropped, and her trousers cuffs rode halfway up her calves.

Orson climbed with hands and feet, his shoes trying to find notches, but a slip sent him into a full slide. Koren caught him under his arms and helped him settle to the ground.

Gasping for breath, he held a hand against his chest. “I fear that the disease has caught full hold. Perhaps I will have to be the next to try the medicine, or else I won’t be able to help administer it.”

Koren checked the detonator in her pocket and picked up the bag. “You wait here and rest. I’ll place the tubes.”

She hurried to the base of the wall. A walkway ran from the river’s edge to the gate, covered with ankle-deep water. She stepped in and tested her weight on the walkway. It seemed quite sturdy. Touching the wall to her left and extending her arm to the right while holding the bag for balance, she sloshed toward the gate.

When she reached the opening, she stopped and peered around the corner. Although Solarus shone into the space within the wall, it didn’t allow a view under the river’s surface. If another walkway led across to the south side, it lay hidden underwater.

She swung around the corner and crept through the gateway, sliding along to check for solid footing. The path continued, narrow and still underwater, but strong and straight.

She stopped at the heart of the barrier wall and pivoted in place, scanning the inner wall on the north side. Above, a mechanism with two wheels and a belt between them lay on a stone shelf well above her head and to the right. Whatever the device was, it had to be a remnant from the human civilization that existed long ago. No dragon could put something like that together. The shelf, perhaps three feet wide, ran parallel to the wall, over the gateway, and into the darkness on the left.

After inching her way back to the north wall, she slid her feet to the right. The underwater path continued that way, hugging the wall, a shelf similar to the one above. When she drew closer to the wheels, a ladder came into view, apparently access for anyone who needed to inspect or repair the device.

She withdrew the detonator and, standing on tiptoes and reaching high, set it gently on the shelf. Still holding the bag, she grabbed a rung with her free hand and scaled the ladder to the top. She turned and sat on the shelf, facing the south wall, a wheel to her left and the detonator and bag to her right. An odd smell emanated from the wheel, like the odor of burning pheterone.

After taking a few breaths, she lifted the bag to her lap and withdrew one of the tubes. It was warm, much warmer than the surrounding air. That couldn’t be good. If the tubes were more volatile now, the slightest bump might set them off.

She rose slowly to her feet, keeping her back bent and her head low. With so little light, bumping her head would be easy to do, and that might send her tumbling. She might be blown to bits before her body ever hit the river.

Keeping her footfalls light, she walked away from the wheel and detonator. Every few steps, she stopped, withdrew a tube, and set it on the shelf. Each tube felt warmer than the one before. When she drew out the last one, its heat stung her hand. It slipped and lodged in a crack on the shelf, sizzling.

Koren spun and hurried back, careful to avoid the other tubes. She snatched up the detonator, slid down the ladder, and retraced her steps. Grabbing the corner of the north wall, she swung around it and ran toward the river’s edge, shouting, “I think one of the tubes might explode!”

Kneeling next to the river, Orson spilled water from his cupped hands and looked at the top of the wall. “Alaph! Did you hear?”

Alaph flew down from his perch on the wall’s northern parapet. “We must mount quickly!”

Before he could land, a long boom sounded from the wall over the center of the river. Koren stopped, still several paces from the river’s edge, and held her breath. Her father dashed to her and threw her into the water. Koren flailed against the current and drifted northward. More booms erupted. Dust enveloped the wall from one side of the river to the other. Huge rocks flew in every direction. Smaller ones shot into the sky.

She swam toward the wall with all her might, screaming, “Daddy!” Her saturated cloak dragged her down. Water sloshed into her mouth, gagging her. She threw off the cloak and swam harder, but the billowing dust veiled the wall.

Another explosion ripped through the cloud. A jagged flat stone hurtled straight toward her face, but in a flash of white Alaph blocked the stone, snatched her out of the water with his back claws, and lifted into the sky.

Alaph’s wings beat wildly. He bounced in erratic circles, alternately ascending and descending as he flew downstream, away from the growing cloud of dust. Finally, he dropped Koren, and they both splashed into the river. He sank for a moment before bobbing back to the surface, his wings again flailing.

Slapping the water with her arms, Koren swam toward the eastern edge until the water was shallow enough for wading.

Alaph fought the current and struggled to shore well downstream, clawing at the turf and dragging his body. Koren sloshed to the bank, ran to him, and dropped to
her knees near his back leg. The flat stone protruded from his flank near his hip, penetrating several inches into his flesh, but no blood flowed.

Alaph’s neck curled, bringing his head around. He clamped down on the stone with his teeth, jerked it out, and threw it over Koren’s head. The stone left a deep gash, but still Alaph did not bleed.

Koren swallowed through her tight throat. “Alaph! What can I do to help you? Where is my father? Did you rescue him, too?”

“One question at a time, child.” Alaph’s snout drew close to the wound. He sniffed it for a moment, then turned his head toward Koren. “No vital organs have been punctured. Normally I would survive such an injury.”

“Normally?” The biting demon in her belly stormed back to life. She glanced back at the wall, but the dust cloud still shielded it from view. Her father was nowhere in sight. “What do you mean by
normally
?”

“I am one of the Benefile, a species with which you are still quite unfamiliar. Unlike humans, I have the option to choose to die at any time. For me to expire at will is not suicide; it is natural.”

His words registered as audible sounds but little more. She looked toward the wall once again. “Did you rescue my father?”

“No.”

The word drilled into her mind, spreading numbness to her limbs. It echoed, and every reverberation felt like a stab through the heart. Her lips trembling, she repeated the awful sound. “No?”

“The rubble buried him instantly. It was all I could do to pluck you from the water to keep that stone from severing your head from your body. Your father’s decision to throw you into the river surely saved your life.”

A strange laugh erupted from her throat. “He’s probably okay, right? Maybe he found a place to hide.” Her voice sounded foreign, as if someone else were speaking. “If I can find some strong thread and sew you back together, we can go and look for him.”

“No.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Your father is gone, Koren, and my purpose is now complete. I will drift away satisfied.”

Koren ran a shaky hand along Alaph’s rear leg. “I don’t know what you mean. What purpose are you talking about?”

“Each of the four Benefile has a unique purpose with regard to roles inherent in the Code. Beth is justice, Gamal is discernment, Dalath is decision, and I am mercy. When there are principles of behavior that the sons of men and dragons are commanded to follow, there must be mercy, or else no one would survive.”

“Since your purpose helps people survive, then …” Koren blinked. It still seemed that unbidden words spilled out, silly and nonsensical. “Then you made my father survive, right?”

Alaph sighed. “No, child. I am sorry.” He touched her with his snout. “There will be a time to mourn Orson, but now you must gather your faculties. I hoped to transfer my role to you. As a slave who has demonstrated and experienced so much mercy, you are able to continue in my place.”

“Continue in your place?” Koren laid a hand on her chest. “I could never take your place. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Ah! But you do know! You merely do not realize it yet. And as one who has been chosen by the Creator to help free the slaves, you might be the only one who can deliver the Creator’s mercy.”

“I can’t be the one.” Her thoughts straightening, Koren stood and backed away a step. “I won’t let you decide to die. If I don’t take your place, you have to live. And we can go and search for my father together.”

“Your father is dead, Koren!” Alaph’s eyes blazed blue. “He is lying beneath tons of rubble. I saw a stone snap his neck. Another severed a leg. A mountain of boulders buried his broken body, and his spirit has gone to be with the Creator. He is no longer in this world.”

Koren flinched at every word. As she pictured the carnage, it came to life near the river bank. Her father stood next to the wall as he threw her into the river, his eyes wide with fear.

Just as a boulder toppled toward him, the real Koren waved her arms. “No! Go away! I don’t want to see it!”

The image vanished. Koren dropped to her knees and sobbed. Pulling her hair with both hands, she screamed, “I can’t stand it anymore! I just can’t stand it!”

“Do not despair, Koren. The Creator’s mercy will —”

“Mercy?” Koren stabbed a finger toward the demolished wall. “Do you call that mercy? My father was a hero, but what did he get for it? A painful death! A fractured skull and shattered bones! If that’s mercy, I don’t want any part of it!”

“You do not yet understand the substance of mercy. It is not escape from suffering; it is access to the Creator, the ability to speak to him directly as one would to a friend.”

“Don’t talk to me.” Still on her knees, Koren bent over and laid her cheek on the ground. “Just leave me alone. Just let me die here. I don’t want to live.”

Alaph’s cool breath wafted against her ear. “Have you decided to forsake your fellow slaves? You have been called to save them. You have been called to deliver the gift of mercy. Before this day, you have known the Creator through the words of the Code, so from that fountain alone you have sipped. Now you can drink freely from a well rising up within you, a well that never runs dry.”

Koren looked up at his shining blue eyes. From that fountain alone? The image of Alaph she had conjured in the forest days ago had used almost exactly the same words.

“Your choice is simple,” Alaph continued. “Take the gift I offer, and you will be able to pass it along to your fellow humans. Refuse, and no one will ever receive the gift. The other Benefile will exercise unbridled fury. It is impossible to tell where the execution of their wrath will end. Yet, with mercy in place, they will be repelled, though I know not how it will happen.”

Koren tried to swallow again, but her throat was too tight. She squeaked out, “What do you want me to do?”

“Insert your hand into my wound with your palm up.”

Dirt and sweat caking her cheek, Koren scooted on her knees and did as he asked. Tiny red lines that ran along his scales pulsed as if ready to burst.

“Some call us the Bloodless,” Alaph said, “because we do not bleed when wounded. We have blood, however, and we shed it by choice.”

Blood began to ooze from the points where the red lines met the upper edge of the wound. It dripped into Koren’s palm and formed a pool. With each drop, the vessels faded from red to pink to white until they blended with his smooth scales and disappeared.

Koren stared at the pool. The blood glowed, as if infused with radiance from Exodus. “What … what do I do now?”

Alaph laid his head on his hip and stared at her. The blue in his eyes had faded to white, and the sparkle was gone. “When I have passed,” he said with a wheeze in his voice, “you must drink it.”

“Drink blood?” She grimaced, not caring that Alaph could see her disgust. “The Code forbids it.”

“You cannot acquire the gift of mercy unless you consume it.”

Koren’s hand shook, creating ripples on top of the scarlet pool. “But drinking blood is barbaric.” Again words flowed as if unbridled. “Can’t I free the slaves some other way? I thought the prophecy said I was supposed to sacrifice myself. I could become Taushin’s eyes and …” She bit her tongue. That was one idea that had to be bridled. Even considering it made her feet feel constricted, as if the boots had returned, black and tight.