The final cavern was the largest of all. From side to side it stretched for hundreds of feet. Perhaps it had been carved out by the Elekai. The walls and ceiling glowed silvery pink, filling the cavern with dim bioluminescence. The surface of the lake glowed, and on the far end where liquid met shoreline, the dragons waited — some dozen of them. Another dozen or so were in the lake itself, only their long necks and angular heads visible above the surface.
The dragons watched us enter their sanctum, their white eyes blazing fiery light. Their scales were various shades of red, dark crimson, all the way to a pink so light that it could almost be white. The dragons, of course, were large, though not as large as the typical Radaskim. The Elekai dragons’ forms were sleek compared to their counterparts — the Radaskim were angular and brutal, as if they had been carved from stone, hewn only for war.
One of the dragons in the center gave a resounding call that echoed throughout the cavern. The call was taken up by the others, until a melodious song filled the entirety of the space. For the amount of creatures singing, it was not very loud; the fungus-lined walls probably had something to do with dampening the volume. For some reason, the song made me sad. I realized that the dragons were mourning the death of the Wanderer.
When we reached the shoreline, walking out of the lake, the song continued. I stood and watched the dragons as they paid tribute to their fallen master. I realized then that I had never seen the dragons outside the context of battle. At heart, they were peaceful creatures, and it was for the promise of peace that they fought.
When the song ended, only one of the dragons continued, letting his voice resound a moment longer than the others. It was Askal. He paused a moment, waiting for the sound to dissipate, before turning to me. Something about his face, and those eyes, seemed morose — there was no outward difference in appearance, but it was something I felt coming from him.
The Elekai did not express emotions the same way humans did. They could directly empathize with one another and literally feel one another’s thoughts and feelings. As a human, I could only feel a bit of that. Being human had its limitations, but if I could have felt every bit of these creatures’ souls, it probably would have been too much to bear.
Finally, Askal seemed to relax. I walked past several of the dragons while everyone stayed behind. I stood in front of Askal, craning my neck to look at his face, about thirty feet above. Askal backed away before lowering his head to bring it level with mine.
We meet again, little human.
I wasn’t touching Askal, so I hadn’t expected any thought to pass from him. The thought must have carried through the xenofungus. I understood little about how the Elekai communicated. At times, touch was necessary. Sometimes, the xenofungus was sufficient to bridge the gap. But then, there were the visions from the Wanderer, and my being able to dream and experience the world through Askal’s eyes. Those were the most baffling, because neither touch nor xenofungus served as a medium. That would probably remain a mystery to me, but it seemed as if in those times that the communication was carried by the air itself.
We meet again, I said.
We have lost a dear friend today, Askal said. The Elekai will mourn the Father’s loss for many cycles, until he is born again.
I didn’t know what a cycle was, but I supposed it was a very long time.
“I know,” I said. “I’ll miss him, too.”
I switched to speech; that way everyone who was gathering behind me could listen, too. Askal did not seem confused by the transition.
We have much to do, little human, Askal thought. Though I suppose you are not so little anymore.
“What are we going to do, Askal? Half the dragons are still hurt.”
We must wait, a little while longer. We have to heal in both heart and flesh. It will be a few days before the Elekai fly again.
A few days. I didn’t even know if we had that long. But there was no way we could win the battle without the Elekai’s support. A few days would give us time to make sure things were taken care of in Los Angeles. It was time enough to come up with a strategy for the final battle.
“Will you guys be okay here for the next few days?”
I cannot guarantee our safety, Askal thought. But all the entrances will be closed until you return. If we are attacked, you will be the first to know, Lord of the Elekai.
Don’t call me that, I thought.
Something like amusement came from Askal.
You and our Father are the same. He did not like being called that, either. But that didn’t make it any less true.
Still… I thought. Just call me Alex.
Askal nodded his assent — a surprisingly human gesture.
“We probably need to get back to L.A.,” I said, turning to the others. “The Elekai will be okay until we get back.”
“Are you sure?” Makara asked.
“They can’t leave their wounded behind. Askal says they’ll be ready in a few days.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” Ashton said.
Chapter 21
We went on Perseus and just slept. Ashton took us as far as Los Angeles and put the ship on hover mode. There was no way we could keep on going without getting some much-needed sleep.
I slept so deeply that it might as well have been a coma. I was sleep-deprived, not just from last night, but from every night before where I’d only gotten a few hours here and there. It wasn’t until it was night of the next day — a full fourteen hours later — that I woke up, finding that I could sleep even more if I wanted to.
So I did. I kept sleeping until 03:30. No one in the ship was moving. I had no idea if Makara or the others were corresponding with Augustus and Black at this time. Probably. But sleep was hard to come by in this world, so I was going to take advantage while I could.
I finally got up and went to the wardroom, where various Raiders were sprawled on the floor, still sleeping. After almost a full day of doing nothing, it was hard to believe I was the only one up. My head pounded, and my eyes were heavy. I continued on to the wardroom and went to the faucet, where I filled my canteen with water. I drank the entire thing down.
After using the lav, I went to the bridge, finding the lights on. Ashton was awake. He turned upon hearing my approach. He held a mug of coffee in his right hand, from the top of which steam curled up.
“Morning,” he said. “Would you like a cup?”
I nodded, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. Ashton took a thermos sitting on top of the dash. If that thing were to spill, it could do some serious damage to the electronics on the dash. Ashton didn’t seem to be worried, though.
“You’ve got a mug?” Ashton asked.
I didn’t really want to get back up, and was about to reach for my canteen, when my eyes came across a mug sitting on the dash. Anna must have left it there earlier.
“Right here,” I said, grabbing it.