Elven Star

31

Haplo took a last walk around the ship, inspecting the repairs he’d made with a critical eye. The damage had not been extensive; the protective runes had, for the most part, served him well. He’d been able to heal the cracks in the planking, reestablish the rune magic. Satisfied that the ship would hold together throughout its long voyage, Haplo climbed back up on the top deck and paused to rest.

He was exhausted. The repairs to his ship and the repairs to himself after the fight with the tytan had drained his energy. He knew he was weak because he was in pain; his shoulder ached and throbbed. If he had been able to rest, to sleep, to let his body renew itself, the injury would, by now, have been nothing more than a bad memory. But he was running out of time. He could not withstand a tytan assault. His magic had to be spent on the ship, not on himself.

The dog settled itself beside him. Haplo rubbed his hand against the animal’s muzzle, scratching its jowls. The dog leaned into the caress, begging for more. Haplo thumped it on the flanks.

“Ready to go back up there again?”

The dog rolled over, stood, and shook itself.

“Yeah, me too.” Haplo tilted his head back, squinting against the brilliance of the sun. The smoke of the fires, burning in the elven city, kept him from seeing the stars.

Steal our eyes! Blind us to the bright and shining light!

Well, why not? It makes sense. If the Sartan …

The dog growled, deep in its throat. Haplo, alert, wary, glanced swiftly down at the house. They were all inside, he’d seen them go in after their return from the jungle. He’d been somewhat surprised they hadn’t come to the ship. The first thing he’d done on his own return had been to strengthen the magical field surrounding it. On sending the dog to reconnoiter, however, he’d discovered them doing what he should have guessed they’d be doing—arguing vehemently among themselves.

Now that the dog had drawn his attention to it, he could hear voices, loud, strident, raised in anger and frustration.

“Mensch. Ail the same. They should welcome a strong ruler like My Lord—someone to enforce peace, bring order to their lives. That is, if any of them will be left in this world when My Lord arrives.” Haplo shrugged, rose to his feet, heading for the bridge.

The dog began barking, a warning. Haplo’s head jerked around. Beyond the house, the jungle was moving.

Calandra stormed up to her office, slammed the door shut, and locked it. Drawing out her ledger, she opened it, sat rigidly in her straight-backed chair, and began to go over the previous cycle’s sales figures. There was no reasoning with Paithan, absolutely none. He had invited strangers into her house, including the human slaves, telling them that they could take refuge inside! He had told the cook to bring her family up from the town. He’d whipped them into a state of panic with his gruesome tales. The cook was in hysterics. There’d be no dinner this night! It grieved Calandra to say it, but her brother had obviously been stricken with the same madness that plagued their poor father.

“I’ve put up with Papa all these years,” Calandra snapped at the inkwell. “Put up with the house being nearly burned down around our ears, put up with the shame and humiliation. He is, after all, my father, and I owe him. But I owe you nothing, Paithan! You’ll have your share of the inheritance and that’s all. Take it and take your human trollop and the rest of your scruffy followers and try to make your way in this world! You’ll be back. On your knees!”

Outside, a dog began to bark. The noise was loud and startling. Calandra let fall a drop of ink on the ledger sheet. A burst of noise, shouts and cries, came from downstairs. How did they expect her to get any work done! Angrily grabbing the blotter, Calandra pressed it over the paper, soaking up the ink. It hadn’t ruined her figures, she was still able to read them—the neat, precise numbers marching in their ordered rows, figuring, calculating, summing up her life.

She replaced the pen, with care, in its holder, and walked over to the window, prepared to slam it shut. Calandra caught her breath, stared. It seemed the trees themselves were creeping up on her house.

She rubbed her eyes, squinching them shut and massaging the lids with her fingers. Sometimes, when she worked too long and too late, the numbers swam before her vision. I’m upset, that’s all. Paithan has upset me. I’m seeing things. When I open my eyes, everything will be as it should be. Calandra opened her eyes. The trees no longer appeared to be moving. What she saw was the advance of a horrible army.

Footsteps came thudding up the stairs, clattered down the hall. A fist began to pound on the door. Paithan’s voice shouted, “Callie! They’re coming!

Callie, please! You have to leave, now!”

Leave! And go where?

Her father’s wistful, eager voice came through the keyhole. “My dear! We’re flying to the stars!” Shouting from below drowned him out, then, when Callie could hear, there came something about “your mother.”

“Go on downstairs, Father. I’ll talk to her. Calandra!” Beating on the door.

“Calandra!”

She stared out the window in a kind of hypnotic fascination. The monsters seemed uncertain about venturing into the open expanse of green, smooth lawn. They hung about the fringes of the jungle. Occasionally one lifted its eyeless head—they looked like sloths, sniffing the air and not much liking whatever it was they smelled.

A thud shook the door. Paithan was trying to break it down! That would be difficult. Because Calandra often counted money in this room, the door was strong, specially designed, reinforced. He was pleading with her to open it, to come with them, to escape. Unaccustomed warmth stole over Calandra. Paithan cared about her. He truly cared.

“Perhaps, Mother, I haven’t failed, after all,” said Calandra. She pressed her cheek against the cool glass, stared down at the expanse of moss and the frightful army below.

The thudding against the door continued. Paithan would hurt his shoulder. She’d better put an end to it. Walking stiff, erect, Calandra reached up her hand and threw the bolt, locked it fast. The sound could be heard clearly on the other side, and it was met with shocked silence.

“I’m busy, Paithan,” Calandra said firmly, speaking to him as she had spoken when he was a child, teasing her to come play. “I have work to do. Run along, and leave me alone.”

“Calandra! Look out the window!”

What did he take her for—a fool?

“I’ve looked out the window, Paithan,” Calandra spoke calmly. “You’ve caused me to make a mistake in my figures. Just take yourselves off to wherever it is you’re going and leave me in peace!”

She could almost see the look on his face, the expression of hurt, bewilderment. So he’d looked the cycle they’d brought him home from that trip with his grandfather, the day of Elithenia’s funeral.

Mother’s not here, Paithan. She won’t be here, ever again. The shouts from below grew louder. A shuffling sound came outside the door—another one of Paithan’s bad habits. She could almost see him, head bent, staring at the floor, kicking moodily at the baseboards.

“Good-bye, Callie,” he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear it above the whirring of the fan blades., “I think I understand.” Probably not, but it didn’t matter. Good-bye, Paithan, she told him silently, placing her ink-stained, work-calloused fingers gently on the door, as she might have placed them gently on a child’s smooth cheek. Take care of Papa … and Thea.

She heard footsteps, running rapidly down the hall.

Calandra wiped her eyes. Marching to the window, she slammed it shut, returned to her desk, and sat down—back stiff and straight. She lifted her pen, dipped it carefully and precisely in the inkwell, and bent her head over the ledger.

*

“They’ve stopped,” said Haplo to the dog, watching the movements of the rytans, seeing them keep to the jungle. “I wonder why—” The ground rumbled beneath the Patryn’s feet and he had his answer. “The old man’s dragon… . They must smell it. Come on, dog. Let’s get out of here before those creatures make up their minds and realize that there are too many of them to be scared of just one dragon.”

Haplo had almost reached the ladder leading to the bridge when he looked down and discovered that he was talking to. himself.

“Dog? Blast it! Where—”

The Patryn glanced back over his shoulder, saw the dog leap from the deck of the ship onto the mossy lawn.

“Dog! Damn it!” Haplo ran back across the deck, peered down over the ship’s rail. The animal stood directly beneath him, facing the house. Legs stiff, fur bristling, it barked and barked. “All right! You’ve warned them! You’ve warned everybody in three kingdoms! Now get back up here!”

The dog ignored him, perhaps it couldn’t hear over its own barking. Grumbling, dividing his attention between the monsters still lurking in the jungle and the house, Haplo jumped down onto the moss.

“Look, mutt, we don’t want company—”

He made a grab for the animal, intending to grasp hold of it by the scruff of its neck. The dog didn’t turn its head, didn’t once look back at him. But the moment Haplo drew near, the animal leapt forward and went speeding over the lawn, galloping toward the house.

“Dog! Get back here! Dog! I’m leaving now! You hear me?” Haplo took a step toward the ship. “Dog, you worthless, flea-ridden—Oh, hell!” Breaking into a run, the Patryn dashed across the lawn after the animal.

“The dog’s barking,” shouted Zifnab. “Run! Flee! Fire! Famine! Fly!”

No one moved, except Aleatha, who cast a bored glance over her shoulder.

“Where’s Callie?”

Paithan avoided his sister’s eyes. “She’s not coming.“ ‘Then I’m not either. It’s a stupid notion anyway. I’ll wait here for My Lord.” Keeping her back to the window, Aleatha walked to the mirror and studied her hair, her dress, her adornments. She was wearing her finest gown and the jewels that had been part of her inheritance from her mother. Her hair was artfully arranged in a most becoming style. She had, the mirror assured her, never looked more beautiful.

“I can’t imagine why he hasn’t come. My Lord is never late.”

“He hasn’t come because he’s dead, Thea!” Paithan told her, fear and grief shredding him, leaving him raw, burning. “Can’t you understand?”

“And we’re going to be next!” Roland gestured outside. “Unless we get to the ship! I don’t know what’s stopping the tytans, but they won’t be stopped for long!”

Paithan looked around the room. Ten humans, slaves who had braved the dragon to stay on with the Quindiniars, and their families had taken refuge in the house. The cook was sobbing hysterically in a corner. Numerous adult and several half-grown elves—perhaps the cook’s children, Paithan wasn’t certain—were gathered around her. All of them were staring at Paithan, looking for leadership. Paithan avoided their eyes.

“Go on! Run for it!” Roland shouted, speaking in human, gesturing to the slaves.

They needed no urging. The men lifted small children, the women hitched up their skirts and raced out the door. The elves didn’t understand Roland’s words, but they read the look on his face. Catching hold of the sobbing cook, they hustled her out the door and ran after the humans across the lawn, up the slight rise to where the ship stood on the top of the hill. Human slaves. The elven cook and her family. Ourselves. The best and the brightest … “Paithan?” Roland urged. The elf turned to his sister. “Thea?”

Aleatha grew paler, the hand that smoothed her hair trembled slightly. She clamped her teeth over her lower lip, and when she knew she could speak without her voice breaking, she said, “I’m staying with Callie.”

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

“Paithan!”

“Let him go, Rega! He wants to commit suicide that’s his—”

“They’re my sisters! I can’t run away!”

“If he stays, Roland, then I’m staying—” Rega began. The dog bounded up on the porch, shot into the hallway, gave a loud, sharp, single “Whuf!”

“They’re on the move!” cried Roland, from his vantage point by the window.

“When My Lord comes, tell him that I will be in the parlor,” said Aleatha, calmly gathering her skirts, turning her back, and walking away. Paithan started after her, but Roland caught hold of his arm. “You take care of Rega.”

The human strode after Aleatha. Catching hold of her, Roland scooped the elfmaid up in his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her—head down, kicking and screaming and pummeling him on the back—out the door. Haplo rounded a comer of the house and skidded to a halt, staring in disbelief at the swarm of elves and humans suddenly appearing before him, all bound for his ship!

Savior.

Ha! Wait until they hit the magical barricade.

Haplo ignored them, chased after the dog, and saw the animal leap up onto the porch.

“We’re coming!” shouted Paithan.

“You’re not the only ones,” Haplo muttered.

The tytans had begun their advance, moving with their silent, incredible speed. Haplo looked at the dog, looked at the large group of elves and the humans hastening toward his ship. The first few had already reached it, were endeavoring to get dose, had discovered it was impossible. Runes on the outside hull glowed red and blue, their magic guarding against intruders. The mensch were shouting, clasping their arms around each other. Some turned, prepared to fight to the death.

Savior.

Haplo heaved an exasperated sigh. Swearing beneath his breath, he lifted his hand and swiftly traced several runes in the air. They caught fire, glowed blue. The sigla on the ship flickered in answer, their flames died. His defenses were lowered.

“You better hurry up,” he shouted, giving the leaping, dancing dog a swift kick that landed nowhere near its target.

“We’re going to have to run for it, Quindiniar!” shouted Zifnab, hiking up his robes, revealing a broad expanse of bony leg. “By the way, you were wonderful, Lenthan, my friend. Superb speech. I couldn’t have done better myself.” He laid his hand on Lenthan’s arm. “Ready?”

Lenthan blinked at Zifnab in confusion. The elf’s ancestors drifted back to a time beyond memory, leaving behind the wreck of a middle-aged man. “I’m ready,” he said vaguely. “Where are we going?” He allowed Zifnab to propel him along.

“To the stars, my dear fellow!” cackled the wizard. “To the stars!” Drugar ran after the others. The dwarf was strong, his endurance was great. He could have gone on running long after the humans and the elves had collapsed by the wayside. But with his short, stocky legs and heavy leather armor and boots, he was no match for them in a race. They had all soon outdistanced him in their mad dash for the ship, leaving him far behind.

The dwarf pressed on stubbornly. He could see the tytans without turning his head; they were behind him, but fanning out on either side, hoping to capture their prey by enclosing it in a huge circle. The monsters were gaining slowly on the elves and humans, more rapidly on the dwarf. Drugar increased his speed, running desperately, not out of fear of the tytans, but out of fear that he would lose his chance for revenge.

The toe of his thick boot caught on his heel. The dwarf stumbled, lost his balance, and pitched facefirst into the moss. He struggled to stand, but his boot had slipped down halfway over his foot. Drugar hopped on one foot, fighting to pull the boot on, his hands slippery with sweat. Smoke stung his nostrils. The tytans had set fire to the jungle.

“Paithan! Look!” Rega glanced behind. “Blackbeard!”

The elf skidded to a halt. He and Rega were within a few strides of the ship. The two had stayed behind the others to act as rear guard, protecting Zifnab, Haplo, and Lenthan, pounding ahead of them, and Roland and the furious Aleatha. They had, as usual, forgotten about the dwarf.

“You go on.” Paithan started back down the slight slope. He saw the flames shoot up out of the trees, the black smoke swirl into the sky. It was spreading fast, toward the house. He wrenched his gaze away, kept it on the floundering dwarf, the approaching tytans.

Movement at his side caused him to glance around. “I thought I told you to go to the ship.”

Rega managed a twisted smile. “Make up your mind, elf! You’re stuck with me!” Paithan smiled wearily back, shaking his head, prevented from saying anything by the fact that he had no more breath with which to say it. The two reached the dwarf, who had, by this time, torn the boot off and was hobbling forward—one boot on and one boot off. Paithan caught hold of him by one shoulder, Rega grabbed the other.

“I don’t need your help!” growled Drugar, glaring at them with startling vehemence. “Let me go!”

“Paithan, they’re gaining!” Rega shouted, nodding over her shoulder at the tytans.

“Shut up and quite fighting us!” Paithan told the dwarf. “You saved our lives, after all!”

Drugar began to laugh—a deep, wild bellow. Paithan wondered again if the dwarf was going mad. The elf didn’t have time to worry about it. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, the tytans getting nearer. They didn’t stand a chance. He glanced at Rega, she glanced at him, shrugged slightly. Both tightened their hold on the heavy dwarf, and started running. Haplo reached the ship ahead of the others, the runes traced on his body doing what they could to bolster his flagging strength, tent speed to his stride. Men, women, and shrieking children straggled over the deck. A few had found the hatchway and had gone down into the ship. More were standing at the rail, staring at the tytans.

“Get below!” Haplo shouted, pointing at the hatch. He pulled himself up over the railing and was starting—again—for the bridge when he heard a frantic whimper and felt a tug at his heel.

“What now?” he snarled, whirling to confront the dog, who had nearly pulled him over backward. Looking out over the lawn, peering through the gathering smoke, he saw the human, the elf, and the dwarf surrounded by tytans.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t—Oh, for—!” Haplo caught hold of Zifnab, who was trying unsuccessfully to pull himself and Lenthan Quindiniar up over the railing. “Where’s that dragon of yours?” The Patryn demanded, yanking the old man around to face him.

“Flagon?” Zifnab blinked at Haplo like a stunned owl. “Good idea! I could use a snort—”

“Dragon, you doddering idiot! Dragon!”

“Dragon? Where?” The old wizard looked highly alarmed. “Don’t tell him you saw me, there’s a good chap. I’ll just go below—”

“Listen to me, you worthless old geezer, that dragon of yours is the only thing that’s going to save them!” Haplo pointed at the small group struggling valiantly to reach the ship.

“My dragon? Save anybody?” Zifnab shook his head sadly. “You must have him confused with someone else—Smaug, perhaps? No? Ah, I’ve got it! That lizard who gave Saint George such a nasty rime of it! What was his name, now there was a dragon!”

“And you are implying that I’m not?” The voice split the ground. The dragon’s head shoved up through the moss. Shock waves rolled, rocking the ship, throwing Haplo back into a bulkhead. Lenthan clung to the railing for. dear life.

Pulling himself up, Haplo saw the tytans come to a halt, their eyeless heads swiveling toward the gigantic beast.

The dragon’s body slid up out of the hole it had created in the moss. It moved rapidly, green scaly skin rippling, glistening in the sunlight. “Smaug!” the dragon thundered. “That vain-glorious fop! And as for that sniveling worm who took on St. George—”

Roland reached the ship, lifted Aleatha up over the railing to Haplo, who caught hold of the woman, dragged her on board, and turned her over to the care of her father.

“Get up here!” Haplo offered his hand.

Roland shook his head, turned, and ran back to help Paithan, disappearing in the gathering smoke. Haplo peered after him, cursing the delay. It was difficult to see now—much of the jungle was completely engulfed in flames—but Haplo had the impression that the tytans were falling back, milling about in confusion, caught between their own flame and the dragon.

“And to think I ended up with a worthless old faker like you!” the dragon was shouting. “I could have gone someplace where I would have been appreciated!

Pern, for example! Instead, I—”

Coughing, tears streaming down their cheeks, the small party made its way through the smoke. It was difficult to tell who was carrying whom; they all seemed to be leaning on each other. With Haplo’s help, they managed to climb up over the railing and collapsed on the deck.

“Everybody below!” the Patryn snapped. “Hurry up. It’s not going to take the tytans long to figure out they’re not as frightened of the dragon as they think they are!”

Wearily, they made their way forward, stumbled down the hatch to the bridge. Haplo was about to turn and follow when he saw Paithan, standing at the railing, staring through the smoke, blinking back tears. His hands clenched the wood.

“Come on, or you’re riding out here!” Haplo threatened.

“The house … can you see it?” Paithan wiped his eyes with an impatient gesture.

“It’s gone, elf, burning! Now will you—” Haplo paused. “There was someone in there. Your sister.”

Paithan nodded, slowly turned away. “I guess it was better that way than … the other.”

“We’re likely to find out if we don’t get out of here ourselves! Sorry, but I’ve got no time for condolences.” Haplo grabbed hold of the elf, hustled him down below.

Inside, it was deathly quiet. The magic protected the ship from the smoke and flame, the dragon outside guarded it from the tytans. The humans and elves and the dwarf had taken refuge in whatever open spaces they could find, huddled together, their eyes fixed on Haplo. He glanced around grimly, not liking his passengers, not liking the situation. His gaze flicked over the dog, lying nose on paws on the deck.

“You happy?” he muttered.

The animal thumped its tail wearily on the boards.

Haplo put his hands on the steering stone, hoping he had strength enough left to take the ship aloft. The sigla began to glow blue and red on his skin, the runes on the stone lit in response. A violent shudder shook the vessel, the boards creaked and shivered.

“Tytans!”

This was the end. He couldn’t fight them, didn’t have the strength. My Lord will know, when I fail to return, that something must have gone wrong. The Lord of the Nexus will be wary, when he comes to this world. Green scales covered the window, almost completely blocking the view. Haplo started, recovered. He knew now what was causing the ship to quake and creak like a rowboat in a storm—a large, scaly body, winding itself round and round. A fiery eye glared through the window at the Patryn.

“Ready when you are, sir,” the dragon announced.

“Ignition! Blast off!” said the old man, settling himself on the deck, his battered hat sliding down over one ear. “The vessel needs a new name!

Something more appropriate to a starship. Apollo? Gemini? Enterprise. Already taken. Millennium Falcon. Trade-marked. All rights reserved. No! Wait, I have it! Dragon Star! That’s it! Dragon Star!”

“Shit,” muttered Haplo, and put his hands back on the steering stone. The ship rose slowly, steadily, into the air. The mensch stood up, stared out the small portholes that lined the hull, watched their world fall away from them.

The dragonship flew over Equilan. The elven city could not be seen for the smoke and flames devouring it and the trees in which it had been built. The dragonship flew over the Kithni Gulf, red with human blood. It flew over Thillia—charred, blackened. Here and there, crouched alongside the broken roads, a dazed, lone survivor could be seen, wandering forlornly through a dead land.

Rising steadily, gaining altitude, the ship passed over the dwarven homeland—dark, deserted.

The ship sailed into the green-blue sky, left the ruined world behind, and headed for the stars.