Dragons of Remini

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER 1

Suspension

Up. Slowly, slowly, up. From a deep, lightless fog of blank stupor, Jager rose to the edge of awareness.

Light. Dim light. Light from…somewhere. Just light. Pale.

Floating. Or…suspended? Not tied or chained or shackled or wired. Just…hanging.

Can’t move. Paralyzed? Try moving—head, fingers, arms, legs, anything. Nothing. No response. Just sensation. Pain. A feeling of floating, like the free-fall of space.

Vision. A wall, maybe ten meters away. Shiny, gray, some whitish streaks. Like frost on rough-hewn rock. Cold. But you can’t see cold, he thought. Just looks that way. Ice, maybe.

And then he found he could shift his gaze. His head, his eyes remained paralyzed, yet he could shift his perception. Scan leftward along the icy wall. Just more wall. And more. Like a circular chamber. Scan. More wall. And then Celine.

His heart leapt in a flash relief, then clenched in sick fear for her.

Emotion. No. No. Not now, he thought. Choke it back, choke it down. Assess. Analyze. As you were trained.

A few meters away, his soulmate hung suspended. Just as he seemed to be. Suspended inside some sort of thin, faintly shimmering capsule or bubble. A meter above the chamber floor. No evident physical restraints. Just hanging, limp, still, eyes closed. As though afloat in mid-air slumber.

Scan her. Assess. His heart leapt anew: Blood. A raw red streak, maybe two centimeters, from her cheekbone downward, toward the corner of the mouth. Her mouth. Her lips.

Memory burst sharp upon him. Her lips… Kissing. They had been kissing. Their first. After long, long years apart, their first.

Kissing. And then, abruptly, grabbed. Gripped tight in the all-numbing, eerie stasis of a transbeam field. But odd—unlike any ’beam he’d ever experienced.

And now they were here. Wherever “here” was. They would figure that out.

He called out to her, mentally.

Nothing. Not even a sense of presence. Blank.

No. No, he thought. Another wave of emotion. Forcing it down, he wrestled his attention back to solving their situation. Analyze. Walls that appear to be ice—but if they were ice, the ambient temperature wouldn’t be this high. Two bodies suspended, paralyzed—but without physical restraints, and with no evidence of an anti-grav field.

Magic! Of course. And there lay the obvious solution: counter-magic. He hung for what seemed hours, conjuring. Unable to vocalize, he had to work silently to himself—always more difficult, for reasons he’d never understood. He cast spell after spell, seeking an incantation that would liberate them, all the while unsure if a spell cast without vocalization would work, and ever alert for any sign of her wakening. She looked so horribly vulnerable, dangling like a discarded rag doll. Worse, she was injured, maybe badly.

Without warning, a motion to his right caught his attention. A small, circular hole had appeared half-way up the wall. It opened rapidly outward, wider and wider, to reveal a vast cavern beyond. And, approaching like two angry swarms of glowing insects, came a pair of presences. Mesmerized, Jager watched them come, and quailed at the pure evil they emanated. Though they made no physical sound, the boy sensed they were conversing as they came. Then one seemed to sense Jager watching; it halted, the second followed suit, and they turned their hideous attention fully his way. Unprepared for the evil onslaught, the boy struggled to turn away, to avoid their malevolent “glare.” But it was no use. With a mental wail of despair, he reeled back into black oblivion.

CHAPTER 2

Concerns and Reassurances

Fianna shrugged and scowled at her brother’s desperate look. She knew his unspoken question all too well—he had already asked nearly a dozen times, in less than an hour. And no, she still had no idea how Joli was doing. How could she? She’d been right here with him since they arrived; if there had been any news at all, he’d have heard it too.

At least they were safe here, in the Mentors’ hidden Mars outpost. She and her brother Ahimoth, his darling Joli, their old friend Vin, and Narco and Choy—the scarlet, two-headed Kerr Dragon.

Little more than an hour ago, the Mentor known as North had transbeamed them all from Earth to this refuge—from a mountainside in Vogelsberg, Germany, where they had just won a fierce battle with the unspeakably evil half-Rept criminal, Soader.

They had defeated and captured Soader, and consigned him to the infamous prison planet RPF113.

The young Dragon Joli had been gravely injured, but was now in the care of the Mentors: masters of healing, medical and magical.

Father Greer, an elder priest whose meek manner belied his immense power, had bid his young friends farewell and returned to the Vogelsberg caverns he called home.

Narco and Choy, released at last from Soader’s hypnotic thrall, had been forgiven for the part they’d played—against their will and true gentle nature—in the conflict. Now the Mentors were arranging to transport them back to their native planet, Kerr. It would be the first time they would breathe the air of home since Soader had inveigled them into his evil service, decades ago.

Finally, the young Fleet Officer Jager and his sorceress soulmate Celine—Fianna’s cherished Companion—had vanished mysteriously, mid-kiss, at the height of their victory celebration. Their friends guessed the pair must have worked some of their considerable magic to buy a bit of time alone.

The wounded Joli was not Fianna’s only concern, nor her biggest. She couldn’t help but worry about Celine. Where had she and Jager gone? Fianna had reluctantly agreed with the group’s conjecture about a romantic escape, but in her Dragon’s heart lay unspoken dread. She pushed aside the haunting image of the couple’s abrupt disappearance, and—for what seemed the hundredth time—reached out mentally to her Companion, in their long-accustomed mode of communication. And again she despaired at the stark silence in reply.

The white Dragon groaned. The severed link with Celine could mean only one of two things: either the girl was behind telepathic shielding, or…. Fianna shuddered, unable to complete the thought. To escape her dread, she rose, stamped her feet and flapped her great wings. It pained her greatly to do so, thanks to her fresh battle wounds, but she was glad of the pain and wished for more: it distracted her thoughts. And she considered the pain fair, just and deserved. If only I had been stronger and braver, she thought. It is my fault dear Celine is gone. I am responsible for her and for Jager. I failed them!

Hearing his sister’s thoughts, Ahimoth interrupted. “Sister. Sister! Please do not torture yourself.”

“Oh! I am sorry if my reflections have disturbed you, brother.”

“My dearest Fianna, you are not to blame for what may have happened to your friends. Like the others, I do think it likely they left us of their own choice, but admit I share your doubts. If they were taken against their wills, the forces involved must be powerful indeed—yet until we know more, there is nothing we can do. And I know of no way to learn more. We must be strong, and trust in our young friends’ abilities and skills. Whatever the cause of their absence, we will be reunited. Of this I am certain. The ancient prophecies do not lie. Celine is the ‘Moon’ of Nibiru’s legends, and Jager the ‘Hunter.’ They have great works yet to perform, and perform them they will. Have faith, dear sister.”

Her worries quieted for the moment, Fianna nodded. “Thank you, my brother. Again you show that you will one day be a great king to our people. You think like a leader, and your counsel is wise. Our parents would be proud.” She sighed, then went on. “You are right, the prophecies do not lie; we will see my Companion again. Yet still I have fear. I do not feel complete without her by my side, or at the least in my mind.”

“I understand. Believe me, I truly do,” said Ahimoth. “Imprisoned on Earth for so many years, separated from you and from our parents, unable to breathe the air of Nibiru, I understand your anguish. But please, do not fret so. I am here. As are Vin and Joli. The Mentors are here, no doubt willing to help in any way they can—perhaps in ways we cannot imagine. We will all be together once more.”

“Again I thank you, brother. I am ashamed of my weakness. Please, forgive me,” Fianna replied. “I have been selfish; instead I should concentrate on what I can do, here and now. On the constructive, the positive—at the least, thoughts and deeds of support for our injured friends. Joli and Vin need us.”

Still, lingering feelings of shame haunted the white princess. Somehow, some way, she thought, it must be her fault that Celine and Jager were missing, and that Joli lay injured nearby. It was a stretch to blame herself for Vin’s wounds—the legacy of long years in Soader’s cruel cavern prison—but she managed even that bit of self-punishment.

Seeing he had not yet relieved her brooding, Ahimoth interrupted her thoughts once more. “I wonder how many new hatchlings there are now, back on Nibiru,” he mused. “It is incredible what you and Celine achieved, reversing the Brothers’ hex upon our people. A miracle! New births at last, after centuries with but few, few hatchings! You should be so proud of yourself. My pride in you knows no limit.”

Fianna began a reply, but cut herself short when a Mentor appeared at their chamber entrance: North. The Dragons turned their attention to her, hoping for news of Joli.

“Have you news for us?” asked Ahimoth.

“I do,” replied the graceful being.

“Oh!” cried Fianna. “But may we call Vin to join us, before you relay it?”

“Of course, Fianna.”

Fianna nodded at Ahimoth, who dashed past the Mentor and down the corridor to fetch his old friend. Soon the black Dragon returned, the blue right behind him. They settled next to Fianna; all three gave North their complete attention, hoping against hope that her news would be good. Their tails twitched in anticipation, white, blue and black.

Ahimoth could not contain himself. “Our Joli—how is she?”

“Dear Prince,” replied the Mentor with a nod, “Joli is resting comfortably. She will be fine, near fully recovered, within a few days.”

The Dragons heaved sighs of happy relief; the atmosphere brightened at once. In truth, their worries had been exaggerated—Joli’s wounds had been severe, but not life-threatening for a young Dragon in good health. It was their awful, indelible memories of Joli’s previous-life body, battered, burnt and lifeless after a horrible accident, that had amplified their present anguish.

“When can we see her?” asked Ahimoth, standing tall.

“In fact, by sometime early tomorrow, she is likely to come to see you,” North replied. “By no means fully recovered, but able to move about. And encouraged to do so, as part of the recovery process.”

“Wonderful!” said Ahimoth. “I cannot begin to thank you enough.”

“You are welcome,” said the Mentor. “Until then, I suggest you all get some rest.” She bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, North, please,” Fianna said, “is there news of Celine and Jager? And West—where is West?”

“I am sorry, but no, Princess, we have no news or word from your friends, nor from West. Please do not worry yourselves, though. For I am certain that soon we shall know more. And no matter the hour, I will bring you any news at once.”

“Thank you, thank you,” said the three. The Mentor nodded, then departed as gracefully as she had arrived.

“Well, at least we know a bit more,” sighed Fianna. “And I do trust that the Mentors will keep their word.” She rose, plodded across the chamber and slumped onto the bed of fresh, aromatic straw the Mentors had provided. Other races might think such accommodations crude, but to the Nibiruans it was a taste of home, a comforting touch of tradition. “I am exhausted; I could sleep for days. Perhaps I shall. And perhaps Celine will be back at my side when I wake.”

“Perhaps she shall,” agreed Ahimoth, “perhaps she shall.” He and Vin exchanged a look of fond concern for their beautiful companion. Vin gave a little bow, wordlessly requesting his prince’s leave to retire. Ahimoth smiled and nodded, and the blue Dragon slipped out into the corridor, heading for his chamber.

Ahimoth made his way to his own chamber and bed of straw, carefully curled his tail about him and fell fast asleep in moments.

The young princess, however, lay long awake, pondering the last few days. Elated to have reunited with her parents, brother and old friends after painful years apart, she still felt desperately alone. Her Companion was gone, and she knew neither where nor why. Why must life be so strange, so painful, so confusing, she thought. She shifted about, seeking a more comfortable arrangement of her graceful form. Finally, she rested her muzzle on her finely scaled forelegs, wrapped her tail all around her, and fell into fitful slumber.

CHAPTER 3

Spirit Trap

Far across the universe, the Mentor, West, was having difficulties of her own. Suspended in the mercilessly intense energy field of a spirit trap, she faced her captor: the being known as Byrne.

Byrne was one of a small group of evil entities, twisted outcasts from a great and powerful race long since departed to another universe. Byrne and his fellows—known as the Lords among those few who were aware of their existence—shared a single, insidious goal: total subjugation of all life in this universe, and in several others beyond.

Byrne had captured West roughly two days past, judged in Earth time, shortly before battle was joined between the Rept-Human Soader, and Celine, Fianna and their compatriots. He had brought the Mentor here, light-years from Earth, thrown her onto the spirit trap, and begun a vicious interrogation that continued even now.

The spirit trap itself was diabolical. Its physical manifestation was a vertical shaft of blue-white energy, about three meters high—as if a short segment of flaming lightning bolt had been captured and frozen in space. Any being coming in contact with the shaft was held fast—trapped. But the infernal device did not simply pin a being in place. It turned that being’s own force back against it. That is, when a captive spirit made any effort to escape, the device captured that effort’s energy and re-channeled it to amplify the shaft’s own holding power. The harder a captive struggled, the stronger the shaft’s grip grew.

Byrne sought to tear from West the secrets of Nibiru and its Dragon race. He knew that somehow all life in the Phoenix Universe—the universe of Earth and Nibiru—depended upon them. To succeed in their quest for total dominance, the Lords must pierce the barriers protecting the mystic planet and either enslave or exterminate its peaceful inhabitants.

From the way the Mentors guided and protected the young Humans known as Celine and Jager, Byrne and his brethren had deduced that the two must also play crucial roles. This was why the Lords had influenced their own minions, the Barbdews brothers, to pursue the pair. Neither the Barbdews nor the underlings they themselves employed suspected the true reason for the young Humans’ importance. Nor did Kurucz and Bsrn, the beings Byrne had ordered to capture and interrogate them when the Brothers had failed.

The evil pair had snatched Celine and Jager from Earth a few days ago, just after their battle with Soader. The Humans were now imprisoned in an ice cavern on Byrne’s remote planetoid. At Byrne’s direction, Kurucz and Bsrn sought to extract whatever information Celine and Jager had regarding Nibiru and its Dragons, about their own roles in the Mentors’ plans, and about the Mentors as well.

“So you see, my lovely Mentor,” sneered Byrne to his captive, “your ages-long coddling and grooming of the two Humans has betrayed them. If you hadn’t been so painfully obvious about it, we’d never have known of their existence, much less their importance to you.”

Neither being now inhabited a body, though both could and did, when it served their purposes. At present, West manifested as a gently swirling cluster of scintillating golden particles. Byrne’s manifestation was in violent contrast: a swarm of deep violet and sickly yellow-green particles—like a wicked bruise on the fair skin of the universe—snapping and flashing in jarringly erratic spasms.

Because ordinary physical force would have no hurtful or persuasive effect on the Mentor, Byrne had been pummeling West with spiritual energies—energies native to a universe outside and “above” (for want of a better term) the Phoenix Universe from which he’d snatched her. To inhabitants of that universe, the forces he employed would be viewed as magical.

“I’ve no idea what could be so terribly important about those pathetic little creatures, but you shall soon enlighten me,” said Byrne. “Oh my, yes. And meanwhile, my servants will extract whatever useful information the Humans have. The little darlings will be stripped of their knowledge, and then of their useless lives.” And with that he slammed the Mentor with another searing blast of other-worldly energy.

West had not known Byrne’s minions had captured the youngsters, but knew his threat to kill them was an idle one. He dared not allow them to die—nor even be seriously harmed. Byrne was unfathomably evil, but far, far from stupid. He would realize that if the young Humans perished, he would lose access to the power he suspected they held…