Diviner Page 9

  As Brinella predicted, the globules of light began sifting through the sphere’s skin, popping out as swimming whisperers before climbing through the air toward the opening above.

  Koren checked her position. Her body still fully blocked the wound. “How did you control the star’s movement when you floated through the sky?”

  “When Exodus was airborne, I was able to will its movements with my mind. I also used to control the tales more easily and tell them whenever I wished, but it has been so long, and I am so weak, I no longer feel the power.”

  “Once we get it airborne, you can try. For now, just keep feeding me tales of Starlight, and I’ll keep filling the sphere.”

  “Very well.” Grimacing, Brinella laid a hand on her side. “I will do what I can.”

  Koren kept her limbs splayed. “I’ll magnify whatever you’re able to deliver.”

  Lowering herself to her knees, Brinella folded her hands and looked toward the sky. She closed her eyes and spoke in a rhythmic cadence.

  Creator,

  The bringer of life, singer of songs,

  The breaker of strife, righter of wrongs,

  Regard my estate, humble and low;

  Remove this dread weight, let my light flow.

  As light, white and pulsing, flowed from Brinella’s face, Koren felt her mouth drop open. What was happening? Her own prayers hadn’t done this before, even when she sang them.

  Brinella continued, her countenance becoming more dazzling with each word.

  You gave me this vow, chains of pure love,

  Accepting I bowed, shackled above;

  So do what you must, be who you are;

  Produce from the dust, make a new star.

  The light emanating from her face continued to pulse, growing brighter and gaining substance. With every throb, a layer of Brinella’s body peeled away, each layer attached to the previous one and spiraling upward as if she were unraveling. The lead end of the coil of light rose to the apex of the sphere and pierced the top. Soon Brinella’s body shrank, leaving only a floating ball with bright green eyes.

  Still attached to the rising coil, it floated to Koren and brushed against her cheek. A whisper passed into her ears. “Good-bye, Starlighter. Thank you for taking my place.” Then the ball unraveled completely, and the stream of light disappeared through the apex.

  Koren climbed to her feet, sliding down as she stumbled toward the floor’s center. The toe of her boot struck the stardrop, making it roll up the wall. “Taking your place?” she shouted. “I can’t take your place!”

  Her words bounced, echoing throughout the star’s core. The remaining light from Brinella’s stories streamed toward the wound. Exodus drifted downward, faster now. The stardrop rolled back and settled near her boots.

  As Exodus continued to descend, Koren stared at the contrast, stark-white radiance next to the blackest of leather. Would she be able to do Brinella’s job? She knew so little, especially about the Creator. Sealing the hole with the stardrop would make it easier, but that would entrap her forever. Surely no one truly expected her to make such a sacrifice.

  When the final globule of light exited, the sphere’s walls began to wrinkle. Like a slowly deflating balloon, Exodus shrank. The ambient light within faded, and the entire chamber grew dim.

  “No!” Koren turned in a slow circle. Lifting her hands, she shouted upward. “Creator, don’t let this happen! We need Exodus! We need a guiding star!”

  Again her words echoed, this time warped, as if bent by the wrinkling wall, but now they appeared as a stream of light that brushed by her ears each time the words repeated. Her own voice crying out, “We need a guiding star!” pierced her mind, feeling like a dagger with every repetition.

  Dropping to her knees, she looked up. The ceiling continued to collapse, drawing nearer to her head. “I can’t do this!” she shouted. “I am not a Starlighter, at least not one like Brinella. I can’t be a guiding angel. I don’t know enough about you.”

  She lowered her head and wept. Visions of slaves entered her mind—Wallace as a boy, still with two eyes, cringing in front of a dragon who carried a hot poker in his clawed hand; Petra struggling against a dragon as it held open her mouth and inserted a knife; Natalla dragging chains into the Basilica theater room just before her trial.

  “Koren?”

  Natalla stooped in front of her, her wrists still bound by chains. The links suddenly crumbled into dust. She lifted a hand and caressed Koren’s cheek. “I am free now, dear sister, because of you. You faced Maximus at the Basilica, helped me escape execution at the trial, and offered yourself as a sacrifice at the mine. Because of love, you risked death for me, and now I live in peace with a new father. I still work, to be sure, but now because I love to serve my new father, and we work together to make a home.” She picked up the stardrop and held it in her palm. “You know how to resurrect Exodus, but you cannot do so as long as you allow the chains of slavery to remain. A slave cannot do the work of a daughter of light. A slave works under compulsion. A daughter works for love alone.”

  Natalla faded away, and the stardrop, bright and shining, appeared on the floor where it had been before.

  Koren blinked. How could she have conjured Natalla and given voice to her new experiences? Could those thoughts be wishful thinking, a projection of her hopes? She nudged the stardrop with her finger. Perhaps this piece of Exodus, still radiant in spite of the star’s deterioration, had a lot of power. Then again, if Exodus knew only tales of Starlight, it couldn’t tell about the happenings on Darksphere. Who could possibly know what was going on in that world?

  As the walls warped and wrinkled, the ceiling continued its slow descent, now only ten feet or so above her. She rose to her full height and reached with both hands toward it, hoping to support it when it fell that far.

  The stardrop continued shining, sparkling, pulsing. As she concentrated on its radiance, the wrinkled walls faded, and a corridor appeared, the same one she had been in earlier when Deference guided her. The door that no one would answer was now open.

  Koren lowered her hands and peeked inside. The room appeared to be empty; an expanse of marble floor stretched as far as she could see. She leaned into the room, then stepped fully inside. Although Deference and her aura weren’t there this time, light was plentiful.

  She stood on a bare floor of white marble with surrounding white walls, and a white ceiling loomed above. With perfect whiteness all around, it was impossible to guess the distance to the boundaries or to be sure of the room’s shape.

  A whisper entered her ears, as if spoken by someone within reach. “Close the doors, Starlighter.”

  Koren reached for the doors, but there were no handles to grab. Gripping the side of each, she pulled them toward herself and jumped back, allowing them to swing. When they met at the center, the gap disappeared. Every line that framed the entry sealed and vanished.

  She called out, “The doors are closed. What am I supposed to do next?”

  The voice returned, this time louder and clearly masculine. “Prophesy, Starlighter, for such is your purpose.”

  Looking up, Koren walked backwards, searching for the source. “Prophesy? What do you mean? How can I predict the future?”

  “Predicting the future is a narrow definition. To prophesy is to reveal, to uncover, to speak forth that which you see. It is a simple task for a Starlighter.”

  Koren touched the edge of her cloak. “If you mean that I should tell a tale, then I can do that, but what tale do you wish to hear?”

  “Your stage is blank. It is a canvas for your mind. Fill it, Starlighter, with the mysteries you long to solve. Answer the questions that torture you.”

  Koren looked up. At least that direction seemed to be up. Which questions did he mean? So many had tortured her mind. She looked at her wrists, both still marred by manacle wounds. Chains. This had been the biggest question. Was Taushin right about love requiring chains? So far, he had been proven right about so ma
ny things. Yet one mystery still haunted her mind. When she cried out to the Creator during Taushin’s chastising jolts, the pain fled, but her manacles remained. What good did it do to provide temporary relief without granting freedom? Any refusal to obey Taushin would have resulted in another jolt. Whatever it meant, it seemed clear that the answers lay so deep in mystery, she would have to start at the beginning.

  She lifted her hood over her head and spread out her cloak, giving it a dramatic twirl. “Starlight, a world less bright, forsaking wisdom’s call …” She exhaled. The words in her mind evaporated. Her arms felt heavy, weak.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she called out. “I don’t feel the power.”

  “Starlighter …” The voice took on a stern tone. “You cannot prophesy here if you are in an unclean state, for this place is holy.”

  She looked at her palms, no more soiled than usual. “Unclean? I don’t understand.”

  “You are not such a fool. Your days of claiming ignorance have come to an end.”

  “Ignorance?”

  “Repeating my words makes you a hollow echo. Gird yourself with courage and examine yourself. Although you are better than most, a standing of relative goodness will not provide you with access should you ever reach the Creator’s door.”

  Koren pulled in her bottom lip. No more talk. Her tongue was just digging a deeper hole. Examine herself?

  What could that mean? She looked down at her body. The room’s pristine whiteness made her clothes look blacker than ever, like a pile of soot on clean sheets. Could that be it? Her clothes? Taushin had forbidden her to remove her symbolic dress, but Taushin couldn’t see her now. In this room of white, even his memory seemed foreign and out of place.

  After taking off her cloak, she stripped the dress over her head and threw it to the floor. Although she now wore only a pair of knee-length trousers and a short-sleeved white tunic, her exposed skin stayed comfortable, still warmed by her Exodus abode.

  As she wrapped the cloak around her body again, her boots came into view, still on her feet and still black. Not long ago, those boots were a hated addition, a sign of Taushin’s controlling influence. Now that they had stretched to fit, however, they seemed a part of her, cozy and snug instead of cramped and constricting, perfect for the Northlands climate. They were just footwear, not something that should weigh her down as she told a story.

  She lifted her hood again and spread out her arms, but they were still heavy, empty of energy. She let them flop to her sides. “I took off that horrid dress,” she called.

  “Wasn’t that enough?”

  The voice returned, sharp and angry. “Enough excuses, Starlighter! If you continue with this charade, you will employ your precious boots and trudge home through the snow.”

  She dropped to her seat and pinched the laces at the back of one boot, tightly tied at the top. The knot was stubborn. It wouldn’t budge. She tried the other. No better. For some reason they had swelled, maybe from the drastic change in temperature. Of course she could cut them if she had a blade, but wishing for a knife wouldn’t make a real one appear.

  “I can’t get them loose,” she called out.

  The answer drifted past her like a soft breeze. “Do you want them off?”

  “Don’t you want me to take them off? I thought I was supposed to prophesy and —”

  “You failed to answer my question.”

  Koren let out a sigh. “Okay. I’m not trying to claim ignorance, but I am confused. Can you at least give me a hint?”

  “You have had more than your share of hints, and the power you need has already been granted. Examine yourself. Why do you have chains? To whom are you enslaved and why? And finally, do you really want your boots to come off?”

  As Koren stared at the laces, the final question echoed throughout the room. Do you really want your boots to come off? It seemed so simple and the answer so obvious. Of course she wanted the boots to come off. Couldn’t the stranger behind the voice see how hard she had been trying to untie them?

  The question continued to echo, softer and softer, the tone altering to a pleading lament, as though she wouldn’t have another chance if she didn’t respond before it faded completely.

  Two words seemed to reverberate louder than the others—really and your. Do you really want your boots to come off?

  Koren scowled, anger rising in hot flashes. Of course she really wanted the boots to come off. Why else would she be picking at the knots? How hard would she have to try to prove to this stranger that she really meant it?

  Then, as if gasping for a dying breath, a final echo sounded, and your boots hung in the air like a foul odor. Koren wrinkled her nose. Your boots? She caressed the black leather with a gliding finger. These were her boots. Although Zena had ordered her to put them on, she could have refused. Would refusal have meant punishment? Probably. Death? Maybe. Still, no matter the consequences, she had a choice. Her boots, her chains, her acquiescence to Taushin’s dominion all were still a choice. She could have chosen pain. She could have chosen death. Either one would have been better than slavery.

  Now the easing of the torture made sense. The Creator didn’t provide a respite as mere temporary relief; he simply provided her an opportunity to choose. The short pause in the pain had given her a moment of clarity, a chance to examine the options. Would she choose suffering and death instead of obedience to an evil power?

  Ever since that moment, she had used pain as an excuse. She had explained away her actions by lifting her chains and bemoaning her slavery. She had given in to a slave’s mind-set and assumed that no power could set her free. Her boots had become comfortable, as had her chains.

  She glared at the laces. She had tied them herself. And now their tightness relied on her own desire to keep her boots on. What did she really want?

  She picked at the knot again. It stayed as tight as ever. As she continued working, the strings seemed to pulse, as if swelling and shrinking in her grasp. Manacles clamped around her wrists. Chains weighed down her arms. It was hard … so hard!

  Taushin’s voice whispered within. You are now mine, and you could not leave me if you tried. You would always come back … always. And when you learn to love me, the chains will become self-imposed, for you will not ever want to leave.

  “No!” Koren ripped at the laces. The manacles dragged against her skin, peeling away the top layer. As heat roared through her body, she cried out, “I hate you! Boots, chains, slavery, I hate you!”

  She jerked on the knot, ripping a nail, but the laces finally broke free. Yanking on the heel, she loosened the boot, then savagely kicked it off. She shifted to the other boot and tore through its knot, breaking its bond more easily. When that boot fell away from her foot, the manacles and chains vanished.

  Sucking in shallow breaths, she looked at her bare feet, red and swollen. The swelling receded, and the color slowly faded to normal flesh tone. The boots lay near her dress, dirty smudges amidst the whiteness. There they would stay, even if she had to walk barefoot in the snow.

  She climbed to a standing position. With a strong push, she gave her cloak a new spin. It swept around her legs, drawing cool air against her ankles and feet. The sensation felt wonderful, alive, liberating. Her feet danced unbidden, shifting her body into a sway. She lifted her arms, now lightweight and filled with energy.

  “Starlight!” she called out. “Hear my command and release your secrets.” Her words then slid into a rhythmic cadence.

  Starlight, a world less bright,

  Forsaking wisdom’s call,

  Starlight, explain your plight,

  Reveal to me your all.

  Like a dancer on a stage, Koren glided across the white expanse. As she waved her arms, her hands painted the air dark, whisking away the light in the room. The pristine chamber transformed into an evergreen forest illuminated by a twilight sky. A bright lantern sat in a grassy clearing and spread flickering yellow light all around, making a row of crystalline pegs spark
le on the ground. Several sheep lay close together in a makeshift cage of wood and wire, quiet and still, though their eyes stayed alert.

  Not far away, a river bisected a valley, cutting through a verdant meadow. Beyond that, a castle sat nestled against the base of a snow-capped mountain. Three red turrets highlighted an upper floor, and a doorway on ground level stood open.

  At the center of the forest clearing, Arxad stood beside two eggs in a wicker basket, apparently the same two eggs he had in the previous tale. Another dragon landed, his wings beating the air as he settled.

  With his head low, Arxad caressed the top of an egg with his wing and spoke in the dragon language. “Magnar, I am grateful that you have come. It will be a long time until we see each other again.”

  Magnar scooted close to Arxad but stayed well away from the eggs. “I will never forget your sacrifice. Your willingness to preserve this species has gone beyond what anyone could expect.”

  “I cannot deny it. To most, I have played the fool by trying to save those who brought destruction upon themselves and untold suffering to our race.”

  “It is not foolish to invest in our own preservation, but I understand. Many think you actually love these vermin. I would not want to carry the weight of that accusation.”

  “Love them?” Arxad withdrew his wing from the egg. “I love our race, and I care for these humans out of respect for the Creator who deemed it necessary to use them in this fashion. I spend this time away from Starlight, from my mate, and from my fellow dragons to protect our species, not theirs.”

  “Well spoken.” Magnar laid a wing over Arxad’s back. “As many disagreements as we have had, I will never forsake our vow. By the time you return, the Zodiac will be complete. Unlike the Basilica, it will be designed for dragons, and you will be the first high priest.”

  Arxad bowed his head. “I am grateful.”

  Magnar refolded his wing and looked at the eggs. “Have you already transported everything you need?”

  “With the exception of these sheep. The lenses and the genetic testing equipment are already there. When the children are born, I will apply Orson’s tests to ensure that his chromosome sequences are in place, and I will leave updates here in a photo tube so that you can track my progress.”