Starlighter (4 page)

Adrian pulled Jason close and kissed his forehead. He whispered, “Good. Because if you betray us, I’ll walk all the way back from Dracon and introduce you to a mama mountain bear who has lost her cubs.”

With that, Adrian marched away from the path, following the stream into the woods. Shadows quickly swallowed him, and he disappeared.

As he stared at the trees, Jason shoved the hair into his tunic’s small inner pocket. This was no time to let emotions choke his resolve. He had a job to do: two jobs, one for Prescott and one for Adrian. He had to get going.

The mysterious tube still in his grasp, he splashed across the shallow water. When he reached the other side, he broke into a run, careful to keep his new sword in place. He could listen to the message later. For now, he had to make sure he arrived at the castle before sundown.

J
ason gazed at his reflection in the parlor’s mirror. The new uniform, a duplicate of Adrian’s gray trousers and forest green shirt, looked and felt good. His mother would approve. She always said that this shade of green went well with his brown hair and eyes. And with the addition of a long black cloak, the outfit was complete.

An elderly servant, a grandfatherly type with a hefty paunch, bowed as low as his belly would allow. “Is there anything else I may do for you, Master Jason?”

Jason smiled and shook his head. Whenever adults called him by that title, he had the urge to tell them they had it backwards—Jason Masters, not Master Jason. “Thank you, Mortimer. But please, just call me Jason.”

“As you wish.” He bowed again. “His Lordship is tarrying in the parlor with a special guest, so he will not need you until he is ready for the ceremony. Kindly wait here for a summons.”

“I will.” As soon as Mortimer exited the room, Jason grabbed his wadded clothes from a bureau and withdrew the Courier tube. After finding the hair in the pocket, he inserted it into the hatch. Instantly, new letters appeared on the screen.
Genetics verified.

He raised the tube to his eye and looked inside. A video played, accompanied by audio, loud enough for him to hear but likely too quiet for anyone else to pick up, unless the eavesdropper looked over his shoulder.

A tall, lean, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and goatee stood in a forest, clutching Frederick’s tricornered hat. As the man held it up he said, “Adrian, you gave me this hat to analyze, and I have very little to tell you beyond what you already know. Bear hunting is perilous, and I fear that your brother has fallen victim to an especially dangerous variety. As you suspected, the blood on the band was not his. The genetic markers indicate a variety from a distant region, one that neither you nor I have ever ventured into. Yet your brother mentioned many times that he wished to go there to hunt this species.

“Of course, all mountain bears are intelligent, but these appear to be especially crafty. I fear that one has visited our region and placed the hat here in order to lure us to his lands. He likely wants us to come there in order to provide more captives for him and his clan. And, as you long suspected, there is a bear in our midst, one that hides his own guilt by concocting stories about other bears stealing innocent girls. If you find the bear among us, you will find his captive. The key to his secrets never leaves him, for even as he sleeps it rests upon his heart.”

The man placed the hat against his chest. “Because I honor your brother so highly, I urge you to hunt the bears and rid the world of the danger.”

The screen went blank. Jason kept his eye in place, waiting for the next part. Whoever this guy was, he veiled his words skillfully, and anyone who found this tube and managed to break the genetic key would think the message had ended. The idea was simple, but brilliant.

After nearly a minute, another man appeared on the screen, but with his back turned, Jason couldn’t identify him. He carried no weapons but wore a tricornered hat on his head. Could he be Frederick?

The man was looking at a tall stone fence covered with thorny vines, near which a little boy stood, picking up stones and putting them into a big pail. Dirty, rail-thin, and bare-chested, he hoisted the pail into his wiry arms and shuffled away with it, his feet bloody.

As soon as the boy walked out of view, the man, gaunt and unshaven, turned toward the screen.

Frederick!

Jason’s heart raced, thumping so hard he could barely hold the tube in place. He glanced at the dressing room entrance. No one was around. All was silent. Focusing again on the video, he tried to calm his heart.
Settle down. Just listen and learn.

His eyes wide and his tense face dampened with sweat, Frederick spoke with an agitated voice. “Adrian, if every prayer of mine is answered, you will get this message. Hear me, my brother.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “It is all true. Every story is true. I have seen the dragons. I have met the Lost Ones. I do not have time to explain
everything, so I simply beg you to come. Attempt the passage in the way I explained before I left home, and we will work together to rescue the lambs from the wolves. I cannot leave, for I fear that I will not be able to return to this world. I must stay and help them for as long as I can.”

Frederick swallowed again. Passion throttled his voice. “I hope to be here to greet you when you make the passage, but if the dragons learn of my presence, you will likely not see me again. For now, I can only bring comfort to the Lost Ones. The rest will be up to you.”

The screen went blank again.

His hands shaking, Jason jerked toward the bureau and dropped the Courier tube back on the wad of clothes. His heart continued pounding. Sweat dampened his armpits. Although no dragons appeared in the video, Frederick would never lie about something like that. The legends had to be true.

He pulled the folded newsletter from the pile of clothes and read the words greedily. Now they seemed alive. They were no longer fairy tales; they were eyewitness accounts blazing across his mind, as true as his mother’s most solemn promises.

More than one hundred years ago, a dragon by the name of Magnar came from a world they called Starlight and captured several families of humans. No one knew the makeup of the victims, but based on missing persons reports, most guessed that they included ten to twelve adults along with a few children. Magnar took his victims to Starlight through a strange underground gateway, and they disappeared in a flash of light. About a year afterwards, one of the younger men, Uriel Blackstone, escaped.

He told his story to the authorities, but they thought his tale was a fanciful version of an abduction by a group of mountain bears. They dismissed it as the fruit of a vivid imagination. Later, when Uriel grew bolder and began publicizing his story, the authorities prosecuted him and locked him up, first in the dungeon, then in the insane asylum. Although no member of the Gateway had been able to locate Uriel’s grave, by all accounts, he died at the age of seventy-seven, alone and in chains.

That imprisonment, however, did nothing to stop the rise of believers in Uriel’s claims. In fact, the persecution helped to raise doubts about the government’s version of the story, especially among the families of the missing. While in prison, Uriel wrote his now-famous prophecy, which emboldened the faithful and drew into their fold those who hoped for an end to their oppression, and the Underground Gateway, a secret society of people dedicated to finding the truth, was born.

“Excuse me. Jason Masters?”

Jason swung his head toward the door. A young man stood there, his body ramrod straight, his hands behind him, and his uniform pressed. The loose sleeves and pant legs in the all-black uniform identified him as a Courier.

“Yes?” Jason crumpled the newsletter in his fist and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’m Jason.”

“I have come to escort you to the governor’s side.” His voice was formal and monotone. “Please follow me.” He began to swivel but stopped abruptly, his gaze locking on Jason’s wadded clothes. His tone became inquisitive. “You have a Courier’s tube?”

Jason snatched it from the bureau along with his discarded shirt. “Yes,” he said as he opened the genetic
key hatch, hiding his movements with his shirt. “It was addressed to my brother. He asked me to bring it with me.”

The Courier extended a rigid arm. “You are not allowed to have a tube that has not been sent to you or by you. Section three of the communications protocol expressly forbids it. Your brother should know that.”

“Really?” Jason fumbled for the erasing switch on the side. “I guess that’s why he asked me to erase it.”

“I will erase it.” The Courier marched toward him. “Give it to me immediately.”

Jason pushed the button. He would have to hold it down for five seconds, and the genetic key would have to stay inside during the process. “Too late.” He turned, dodging the Courier’s grasping hand. “Do you ever watch the messages before you deliver them?”

The Courier stepped back. “Of course not. That would be a violation of section two of the protocol.”

“That’s what I guessed.” The tube clicked, signaling the end of the erasing procedure. Jason slid out the hair and enclosed it in his fist. “Here you go.” He extended the tube to the Courier. “I’m sure the governor is pleased with your rigidity.”

The Courier snatched it out of Jason’s hand. “Now,” he said coolly, “if you will please follow me. Mortimer will see to your
peasant
clothing.”

As he followed, Jason glanced at his pile of clothes. The Courier wasn’t happy with Jason’s appointment as bodyguard; maybe others in the elite class wouldn’t be pleased with this new peasant in their midst either.

They emerged into the palace’s main entry vestibule, a chamber enclosed by marble-coated walls and high ceilings.
Above, sunlight vents near the apex allowed the fading orange rays to filter in and illuminate their surroundings. Soon the attendants would light the lanterns that lined the walls and put flame to wick in the candelabra that hung from the ceiling. Although most of the guests had already arrived and entered the cathedral, a few stragglers might venture in. Without energy channels in the walls in this section of the palace, anyone walking through after sunset would need the more primitive lighting fixtures.

The Courier opened a door at the rear corner of the chamber and bade Jason to follow. While they hurried through a narrow corridor with wood-planked floors and plaster walls, Frederick’s image—his anguish, his fear—burned in Jason’s mind. Why hadn’t Adrian told him? Why did he allow the secret to be revealed after he marched away into the woods?

The answer broke through like a gushing flood. Because Adrian wanted to go alone. If he had revealed the truth, Jason would have insisted on joining him. This meant that Adrian hadn’t told everything to Father or Mother. To them, this was likely just a foray into the wilderness, yet another fruitless journey in search of the elusive gateway to the world of dragons. Yet Father seemed to suspect something more. Otherwise he wouldn’t have reacted so strongly.

And there was something more. This time Adrian had a priceless clue. Someone had intentionally left the hat and a video message. Surely the messenger, whoever it was, would have left other clues, and Adrian would never give up the hunt. He would take greater risks than ever before. He would not come back without Frederick.

As they passed through a second rich chamber, the main living room in the governor’s private quarters, Adrian’s words filtered back into Jason’s mind.
There is a cryptic puzzle in the words. When you hear it
,
you’ll recognize it. I need you to solve the puzzle.

Jason touched the hilt of his sword. Only he could provide the help Adrian needed. It was time to perform, not to worry. He had to find the bear and the key that rested on his heart.

The Courier stopped at a square entryway and nodded toward the room beyond. “You are to enter now.” His tone was still cold and condescending. “We Couriers are not
privileged
enough to step within the governor’s private bedroom.”

Jason kept his face lax. Without giving the Courier another glance, he strode through the open door and into a chamber every bit as large as the living room. The polished marble floors reflected the light of four energy channels, one embedded in each of the surrounding walls. The four-poster bed, adorned in purple velvet, was big enough for a family of six.

Governor Prescott stood near the far wall. Short, chubby, and dressed in silky purple breeches and a black satin vest over a frilly white shirt, he looked like a beaten and bruised penguin. “Come here, Masters,” he said, waving. “I am late, and we have much protocol to discuss.”

Holding his sword in place at his hip, Jason marched ahead as quickly as decorum would allow, mimicking the stride and posture he’d seen Adrian adopt so many times as he kept pace with the always-hurried governor.

Prescott set a hand on Jason’s shoulder and looked him over. “You’re scrawnier than your brother.”

Jason straightened his body, trying to appear taller. “He’s eight years older.”

“To be sure.” Prescott pulled away and folded his hands behind his back. “You have probably divined by now that I chose you for one reason and one reason only—your brother’s recommendation.” As he spoke, his pale cheeks shook, and his watery blue eyes gleamed. His voice was higher and squeakier than the low tones he used during his speeches and proclamations. “There were many aspiring young warriors who longed for this position, so you should be wary for two reasons. One, if you fail me in the slightest way I will replace you without warning. Two, one of my trustworthy counselors has told me of murmurings against you. You should watch for conspiracies that might bring harm to your person or injury to your reputation. Not everyone in my court is as virtuous as I am.”

Jason wanted to add, “Or as humble,” but he held his tongue. Getting replaced during his first minute of duty would ruin everything.

“Come.” Prescott walked toward the entryway. “While I am moving, stay three steps behind me at all times. This way you are able to guard my left and my right.”

Jason kept pace. “If I am to guard you, then wouldn’t it be easier if I were walking in front of you?”

With a graceful spin, Prescott stopped and faced him, a condescending smile on his lips. “Why, no. Of course not. First, you cannot know where I will choose to turn. Second, those whom I am about to meet will not be able to see my person, which is crucial with regard to the decorum of diplomacy. And third, I am not able to see behind me, so that is my more vulnerable side.”

As warmth flowed into his cheeks, Jason nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. I apologize for my ignorance.”

Prescott again looked him over from head to toe. “Ignorant or not, your abilities will suit my purpose.”

Jason nodded again, unsure of how to reply. “Uh, I hope I can—”

“We have no more time for chatting,” Prescott said as he turned and strode away. “Remember, I hired you for your presence, not for your voice. Keep silent unless you are addressed directly. You have seen your brother work with me. You will have to do the best you can.”