Elven Star

34

A sharp bark, warning of an intruder, brought Haplo to his feet, waking him out of a deep sleep. His body and instincts were fully awake, if his mind wasn’t. Haplo slammed the visitor against the hull, pinned him across the chest with one arm, damped his fingers on the man’s jaw.

“One twist of my wrist and I break your neck!”

A gasp of breath, the body beneath Haplo’s went rigid as a corpse. Haplo blinked the sleep from his eyes, saw who his captive was. Slowly, he released his grip. “Don’t try slipping up on me again, elf. It’s not conducive to a long and healthy life.”

“I … I didn’t mean to!” Paithan massaged his bruised jaw, darting wary glances at Haplo and the growling, bristling dog.

“Hush.” Haplo stroked the animal. “It’s all right.” The dog’s growls lessened, but it continued to keep an eye on the elf. Haplo stretched to ease the kinks in his muscles and walked over to look out the window. He paused, staring, and whistled softly.

“That’s … that’s what I came up here to ask you about The shaken elf left the hull, detoured warily around the watchful dog, and cautiously approached the window.

Outside, everything had disappeared, swallowed up in what appeared to be a blanket of thick, moist wool pressed against the glass. Beads of water rolled down the panes and glistened on the scales of the dragon, whose body hugged the ship.

“What is it?” Paithan tried hard to keep his voice calm. “What’s happened to the star?”

“It’s still there. In fact, we’re close. Very close. This is a rain cloud, that’s all.”

The elf exhaled in relief. “Rain clouds! Just like our old world!”

“Yeah,” said Haplo. “Just like your old world.” The ship descended, the clouds flew past in wispy shreds, the rain streaked across the window in long rivulets. Then the cloud cover drifted past. Dragon Star plunged into sunlight once again. Land could be seen clearly below. The runes on the hull that had been glowing, monitoring air and pressure and gravity, slowly faded out. The mensch pressed close to the portholes, their gazes fixed eagerly on the ground rolling beneath them.

The old man was nowhere to be found.

Haplo listened to the conversations being carried around him, he watched the expression on the faces of the mensch.

First—joy. The voyage was over, they had reached the star safely. Second—relief. Lush green forests, lakes, seas, similar to home. The ship sailed nearer. A tremor of confusion passed among the mensch—brows contracted, lips parted. They leaned closer, pressing their faces flat against the panes. Eyes widened.

At last—realization, understanding.

Paithan returned to the bridge. Delicate crimson stained the elf’s pale cheeks. He pointed out the window.

“What’s going on? This is our world!”

“And there,” said Haplo, “is your star.” Light welled up from out the variegated greens of moss and jungle. Brilliant, bright, white, pulsating, the light hurt the eyes—it was truly like staring into a sun. But it wasn’t a sun, it wasn’t a star. The tight slowly began to dim and fade, even as they watched. A shadow moved across its surface and they could see, at last, when the shadow had nearly covered it, the light’s source.

“A city!” Haplo murmured in astonishment, in his own language. Not only that, but there was something familiar about it!

The light winked out, the city disappeared into darkness.

“What is it?” Paithan demanded, hoarsely.

Haplo shrugged, irritated at the interruption. He needed to think, he needed to get a closer look at that city. “I’m just the pilot. Why don’t you go ask the old man.”

The elf shot the Patryn a suspicious glance. Haplo ignored him, concentrated on his flying. “I’ll look for a clear place to land.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t land. Maybe there’s tytans—” A possibility. Haplo would have to deal with that when the time came. “We’re landing,” he stated.

Paithan sighed, stared back out the window. “Our own world!” he said bitterly. Putting his hands against the glass, he leaned against the panes and gazed out at the trees and mossy landscape that seemed to be leaping up to grab him and pull him down. “How could this have happened? We’ve traveled all this time!

Maybe we veered off course? Flew in a circle?”

“You saw the star shining in the sky. We flew straight as an arrow, right to it. Go ask Zifnab what happened.”

“Yes.” The elf’s face was strained, grim, resolute. “You’re right. I’ll go ask the old man.”

Haplo saw the dragon’s body, visible outside the window, contract. A shudder passed through the ship. A fiery red eye peered for a brief instant in the window, then suddenly the body uncoiled.

The frame shook, the ship listed precariously. Haplo clung to the steering stone for support. The ship righted itself, sailed gracefully downward, a heavy weight lifted. The dragon was gone.

Staring down, watching for a landing site, Haplo thought He caught a glimpse of a massive green body punging into the jungle, he was too preoccupied with his own problems at the moment to notice where. The trees were thick and tangled; the patches of moss were few. Haplo scanned the area below, trying to see through the strange darkness that appeared to emanate from the city, as if it had cast a gigantic shadow over the land.

That was impossible, however. To create night, the suns would have had to have disappeared. And the suns were right above them, their position fixed, unchanging. Light shone on Dragon Star, glistened off the wings, beamed in the window. Directly below the ship, all was dark.

Angry accusations, a shrill protest, and a cry of pain—the old man. Haplo smiled, shrugged again. He’d found a clear spot, large enough for the ship, close to the city, but not too close.

Haplo brought Dragon Star down. Tree branches reached out for them, snapped off. Leaves whipped past the window. The ship landed belly first on the moss. The impact, from the sounds of it, knocked everyone below off their feet. The Patryn looked out into pitch darkness.

They had reached the star.

Haplo had marked the location of the city in his mind before the ship set down, determining the direction he would need to travel to reach it. Working as swiftly as possible in the darkness, not daring to risk a light, he wrapped up a bite of food and filled a skin with water. Scrip packed, Haplo gave a low whistle. The dog leapt to its feet, padded over to stand near its master. The Patryn moved stealthily to the hatchway leading off the bridge and listened. The only sounds he heard were panicked voices coming from the mensch’s quarters. No one breathing softly in the passageway, no one spying. Not that he expected it. Darkness had swallowed the ship whole, sending most of the passengers—who had never viewed such a phenomenon—from rage into terror. Right now they were venting their fear and fury by yelling at the old man. But it wouldn’t be long before the mensch came traipsing up to Haplo, demanding explanations, answers, solutions.

Salvation.

Moving silently, Haplo crossed over to the ship’s hull. Resting the scrip on the floor, he laid his hands upon the wooden planks. The runes on his skin began to glow red and blue, the flame running along his fingers, extending to the wood. The planks shimmered and slowly began to dissolve. A large hole, wide enough for a man, opened up.

Haplo shouldered the supplies, stepped onto the moss embankment on which he landed. The dog jumped out after him, tagging along at its master’s heels. Behind them, the red-blue glow enveloping the hull faded, the wood returned to its original form.

The Patryn crossed the open mossy area swiftly, losing himself in the darkness. He heard enraged shouts in two languages, human and elven. The words were different, but their meaning was the same—death for the wizard.

Haplo grinned. The mensch seemed to have found something to unite them at last.

“Haplo, we—Haplo?” Paithan groped his way onto the bridge into the darkness, came to a dead stop. The runes’ glow faded slowly; by its light, he could see the bridge was vacant.

Roland burst through the hatch, shoving the elf aside. “Haplo, we’ve decided to dump the old man, then leave this—Haplo? Where is he?” he demanded, glaring at Paithan accusingly.

“/ haven’t made off with him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s gone … and the dog, too.”

“I knew it! Haplo and Zifnab are in on this together! They tricked us into coming to this awful place! And you fell for it!”

“You were welcome to stay back in Equilan. I’m sure the rytans would have been pleased to entertain you.”

Frustrated, angry, feeling an unaccountable guilt that somehow this was his fault, Paithan stared gloomily at the runes glimmering on the wooden planks.

“That’s how he did it, obviously. More of his magic. I wish I knew who or what he was.”

“We’ll get answers out of him.”

Blue light flickered on Roland’s clenched fists and scowling features. Paithan looked at the human, and laughed. “If we ever see him again. If we ever see anything again! This is worse than being down in the dwarven tunnels.”

“Paithan?” Rega’s voice called. “Roland?”

“Here, Sis.”

Rega crept onto the bridge, clutched at her brother’s outstretched hand. “Did you tell him? Are we going to leave?”

“He’s not here. He’s gone.”

“And left us here … in the dark!”

“Shhh, calm down.”

The light of the sigla was fading. The three could see each other only by a faint blue glow that grew dim, flickered briefly to fife, dimmed again. The magical light glittered in sunken, fearful eyes and emphasized drawn, fear-strained mouths.

Paithan and Roland each avoided the other’s direct gaze, darted suspicious glances when the other wasn’t looking.

“The old man says this darkness will pass in half a cycle,” Paithan muttered at last, defiant, defensive.

“He also said we were going to a new world!” Roland retorted. “C’mon, Rega, let me take you back—”

“Paithan!” Aleatha’s frantic voice tore through the darkness. Lunging onto the bridge, she grasped at her brother just as the sigia’s light failed, leaving them blind.

“Paithan! Father’s gone! And the old man!”

The four stood outside the ship, staring into the jungle. It was light again, the strange darkness had lifted, and it was easy to see the path someone—Lenthan, Zifnab, Haplo, or maybe all three—had taken. Vines had been severed by the sharp blade of a bladewood sword, huge dumau leaves, cut from their stalks, lay limply on the mossy ground.

Aleatha wrung her hands. “It’s all my fault! We landed in this horrible place and Papa began babbling about Mother being here and where was she and what was taking so long and on and on. I … I shouted at him, Paithan. I couldn’t stand it anymore! I left him alone!”

“Don’t cry, Thea. It’s not your fault. I should have been with him. I should have known. I’ll go after him.”

“I’m going with you.”

Paithan started to refuse, looked into his sister’s tear-streaked, pale face and changed his mind. He nodded wearily. “All right. Don’t worry, Thea. He can’t have gone very far. You better fetch some water.” Aleatha hastened back onto the ship. Paithan walked over to Roland, who was carefully scrutinizing the ground near the fringes of the jungle, searching for tracks. Rega, tense and sorrowful, stood near her brother. Her eyes sought Paithan’s, but the elf refused to meet her gaze.

“You find anything?”

“Not a trace.”

“Haplo and Zifnab must have left together. But why take my father?” Roland straightened, glanced around. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it. Something’s wrong with this place. I thought the land near Thurn was wild! It was a king’s garden compared to this!”

Tangled vines and tree limbs were so thickly massed and intertwined that they might have formed the thatched roof of a gigantic hut. A gray, sullen light struggled through the vegetation. The air was oppressive and humid, tainted with the smell of rot and decay. The heat was intense. And though the jungle must be teeming with life, Roland, listening closely, couldn’t hear a sound. The silence might be amazement at the sight of the ship, it might be something far more ominous.

“I don’t know about you, elf, but I don’t want to stay around here any longer than necessary.”

“I think we can ail agree on that,” said Paithan quietly. Roland cast him a narrow-eyed glance. “What about the dragon?”

“It’s gone.

“You hope!”

Paithan shook his head. “I don’t know what we can do about it if it isn’t.” He was bitter, tired.

“We’re coming with you.” Rega’s face was wet with sweat, her damp hair clung to her skin. She was shivering.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is!” Roland said coldly. “For all I know you and the old man and the tattooed wonder are in this together. I don’t want you flying off, leaving us stranded.”

Paithan’s face paled with anger, his eyes flashed. He opened his mouth, caught Rega’s pleading gaze, and snapped his lips shut on the words. Shrugging, he muttered, “Suit yourself,” and walked over to the ship to wait for his sister. Aleatha emerged from the ship, lugging a waterskin. Her once gaily billowing skirts hung tattered and limp around her lithe figure. She had tied the cook’s shaw! around her shoulders, her arms were bare. Roland looked down at the white feet covered by thin, worn slippers.

“You can’t go into the jungle dressed like that!” He saw the woman’s eyes go to the shadows thickening around the trees, to the vines that twisted like snakes over the ground. Her hands twisted over the leather handle of the waterskin. She clutched it tightly, her chin lifted.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, human.”

“Fool bitch!” Roland snarled.

She had guts, he had to give her that. Drawing his blade, he charged into the undergrowth, hacking furiously at the vines and heart-shaped leaves that seemed the very embodiment of his admiration and desire for this maddening female.

“Rega, are you coming?”

Rega hesitated, looked behind her at Paithan. The elf shook his head. Can’t you understand? Our love has been a mistake. All, a terrible mistake. Shoulders slumping, Rega followed her brother.

Paithan sighed, turned to his sister.

“The human’s right, you know. It could be dangerous and—”

“I’m going after Father,” said Aleatha, and by the tilt of her head and the glint in her eye, her brother knew it was useless to argue. He took the waterskin from her, slung it over his shoulder. The two hurried into the jungle, moving swiftly, as if to outwalk their fear.

Drugar stood in the hatchway, whetting his knife against the wood. The heavy-footed dwarves are clumsy when it comes to stalking prey. Drugar knew it was impossible for him to sneak up on anything. He would let his victims get a long head start before he went in after them.