Starsong Page 3

  “It’s time, Princess,” the priest whispered.

  I stood up and moved to the center of the room. Many of the mayors and our trusted advisors had traveled for the ceremony, and in the hallway through the royal door, I spotted a pair of familiar eyes watching me. This should have been you, Father, I thought, but my telepathy did not work yet. No daughter should have to bury her mother.

  I transformed slowly, rising into my bony body. Dramanian dragons were smaller than most, at least according to the legends we heard about Earth’s dragons, and I fit comfortably in the throne room, even with a crowd of guests. Most Dramanians hated the change, claimed it hurt or that their dragon bodies were uncomfortable, and though I felt no physical discomfort, I rarely felt the need to transition either.

  “From fire born, and from fire set free,” the priest intoned.

  I inhaled. Though there was no mirror in the throne room, I had seen enough bone dragon fire to know that the crowd could see the whirl of flames starting in my ribs and moving up my throat to my mouth. Dramanians never had the advantage of surprise, though our red flames were incredibly powerful, which perhaps made up for our disadvantage. I exhaled, and the stream of fire engulfed my mother’s casket and turned her pale, white body red. In a few seconds, all that was left in the middle of the room was the fireproof sheet on the throne room floor.

  When I looked back at the hallway, the eyes were gone.

  AT THE royal feast after the funeral, Aduerto cornered me. He was dressed in his town’s traditional mourning garb, which apparently involved black tights and puffy black pants that started at the knee. He looked more like Sir Dagonet, King Arthur’s court jester, than a man in mourning.

  “Princess Nimue.” He bowed low, and the puffy black hat balanced on his large head fell to the floor.

  “Aduerto.” I curtsied curtly, a mere bob instead of the traditional deep bend.

  “I am sorry about your mother. If there is anything I can do….” He looked down at his ungraceful hands, which were clasped in awkwardness. No doubt his father had forced him to approach me, and Aduerto wanted to escape our exchange as much as I did.

  “Thank you, Aduerto.”

  I fought the urge to flee. Since father had not joined us, I had to represent the whole family on this terrible day, whether I wanted to retreat to my bedroom or not. Instead, I took the place at the head of the table, with Mayor Nemo and Aduerto on one side and the priest on the other.

  “Have you heard the rumors flying around Draman?” the priest whispered to me when everyone else was occupied with their pheasant.

  “Rumors?”

  “They’re saying that Sara Lee and the child made it all the way to Balu, where Merlin and his band are hiding from the robots.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard.” I tried to stay my heart, which threatened to give me away with its pounding.

  The rest of dinner passed in a blur. I barely tasted the flambéed cherries jubilee, or the ice cream that melted into a puddle on my plate. I responded when prompted, but later, could not remember a single conversation after the priest’s news. Merlin? I had worried about Sara Lee’s death among the stars, and instead, she had found her way to the greatest legend known to a Dramanian?

  What was worse was that Sara Lee had figured out what all of us had never tried: Dramanians, with their bare dragon bones, could fly in space. When changed, we were more ghost than creature, so of course it made sense that the empty coldness would not affect us… but no one had ever tried it. We were like ants in a plastic mound, moving about our days in the same endless routine.

  Finally, when the last guest had finished the last bite of dessert, everyone said their good-byes and returned to the guest chambers. Following suit, I fled to my room, where I could remove the heavy weight of my formal gown and change into the silk pajamas Sara Lee would typically have laid on the bed for me.

  Even though my room was decorated for style and not comfort, I loved the space, especially my private balcony. As a child I had been rocked on that same balcony by my mother or, more often, my nurse. I had grown up looking at those same stars, and in the distance, the same unexplored planets.

  Tonight, the moon was bright and the sky cloudless. I sat on the wooden rocking chair, carefully placed for the best view of my kingdom, and remained there, thinking, for hours. Eventually the sun rose again, and with it came the bustle of villagers below me as they prepared for the Saturday market. I smelled fresh bread, and heard the comforting crackle of many fires. Farmers hoisted their umbrellas, and merchants raised their shop’s overhangs.

  Wait a minute.

  I squinted at the sky, where, along with the sun’s recent appearance, came something that looked like a very large, very angry cloud of silver bees. The swarm even sounded like bees, with a threatening whirring and buzzing that came from invisible wings.

  But they weren’t bees; I knew, even before they flew closer, that they were spaceships. As they neared I recognized the dark metal, and the X symbol imprinted on both sides, from stories that had somehow found their way to our planet. These were the robots, the ones even the great Merlin had fled from, and when the pack split up and headed in different directions, one of them headed right for Draman.

  Chapter SIX

  SARA LEE

  ENDLESS, EMPTY space.

  Even though I couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t feel much of anything but the flap of my bones, different kinds of chills took up residence in my body—uncertainty, regret, fear. I talked to the child to forget these feelings, though they rarely said more than a few words.

  Did your parents want you to pick a certain robe?

  Yes.

  Which one? I know parents often want boys.

  No.

  So a red robe, then?

  Yes.

  When we got far enough away that we knew no one had followed us, I circled the little one and looked back at Draman. From such a distance, the planet was a sphere of sandy brown, with a few pockets of blue for the lakes and green for the farmers’ crops. Mostly, there was just blank space not unlike the relative distance between the stars. The mountain was still visible, and though I could not see exactly where the towers rose above the roof, Nimue’s room was somewhere on the left side.

  I’m going to miss it.

  Yes.

  But we need to go. It’s not safe for you there.

  Yes.

  If Nimue had been the one watching over the child, they would have traveled in complete silence.

  Our strong dragon wings could only carry us so fast, and often the child needed to rest. Bones could not really tire, and since our stomachs disappeared, we could not go hungry or even thirsty, but mentally, we were drained. Like running for days on a treadmill, the planets in the distance never really grew closer despite all of our effort.

  Then I heard the noise. The buzzing, thrumming hum of engines approaching from the distance.

  Hide, I warned, and the child and I found shelter behind a floating asteroid. The child rested their dragon head on the rock and closed their eyes, unconcerned, while I used my dragon claws to creep around the surface and watch the approaching spaceships.

  The silver sphere passed so close to the asteroid that I could not only read the symbol on the sides, an X, but I could see into the windows of the upper deck. Robots made of black metal took the places where Earth humans might go, with one in the captain’s seat, one steering, one operating some kind of directional device, and many others moving between seats. They were no longer the bulky, ungraceful metal prototypes described in traders’ stories; every limb moved like a human limb, with wires for veins and metal for bones and some kind of new material for the muscles and tendons. On Draman we had heard rumors of such advancements in robot technology, made by the robots themselves in the Earth humans’ absence, but no one had ever seen one up close.

  They’re headed straight for Draman, I told the child, who lifted their head from the rock and, hesitantly, crawled toward where I
lay. Their small dragon bones interlocked with mine like the scattered remains of a casting of bones.

  Why?

  I don’t know. But there’s almost no reason they would be headed toward Draman that’s good. Most likely the planet’s a pit stop toward the planet Balu.

  Merlin?

  Exactly.

  Sure enough, some of the robots descended onto the surface of Draman, disappearing into specks and then nothingness.

  What should we do? the child asked.

  There was no right answer. If we returned to help our people, our fight for the removal of the Naming Ceremonies would be voided before it even began. If we didn’t return, I would not be able to live with the thought that I could have helped Nimue and instead had turned away.

  Now we find Merlin, I said finally. He’ll know what to do.

  Chapter SEVEN

  NIMUE

  MY FATHER and I met the robots at their landing site, along with many of the locals who watched us from a distance. I smelled the fried bread usually reserved for fairs; hawkers would use any opportunity to sell their products. Some of the children had brought bean bags made from old clothing and last year’s lentils, which they kicked around while they waited for the robots to deplane.

  Experiencing thousands and thousands of deadly weapons march onto your planet is like watching a blazing fire cross the fence into your backyard. I have never felt as powerless as when the ramp lowered and the robots began their organized march onto Draman, one killing machine after another.

  Up close, the general and his colonels, captains, and lieutenants were easy to spot. The robots had a starring system, only they used Xs instead. Five Xs for General of the Army. Three Xs for a Lieutenant Colonel. The rest of the army moved like lines of ants across a picnic table as they scurry to clear a forgotten plate. Were robots like Earth humans, I wondered, desperate for power and individual greatness? Is that why some of the robots had figured out how to harness true human personalities, while the others were worker bees for their greater plan?

  “Where is the leader of this world?” the adjutant general to the robot with five Xs demanded of the crowd. The General of the Army stayed back and waited, though for what, I did not know. Perhaps, like the Earth humans, this robot enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of his position.

  My father stepped forward. He had taken the time to secure his royal black cape and gold crown, though beneath the hem of the cape, I spotted bed slippers.

  “I am the king of this planet,” my father boldly stated. He held his head high, feigning security. “What is it that you want, Robot?”

  “Want?”

  “You invaded our land without warning, and with an entire army, no less. So I ask: why did you come?”

  “Why. Yes.” This word seemed to make more sense to the robot. “We seek Merlin and his mixed group of followers. The Earth humans, wizards, and green people.” Igreefee, he meant.

  “Well you’ve come to the wrong place.” My father shrugged. “We’ve never met any of them.”

  “But you know where they are.” These words came from the general himself, whose voice was lower and filled with fury. “Tell us, or we will take this planet and all of its inhabitants.”

  I expected my father to tell them. Though we Dramanians were part dragon, we were peaceful people, slow to anger and even slower to action; that was why Sara Lee’s sudden insubordination had shaken our whole planet. But perhaps my father, in his sudden clarity after days of hiding in his bedroom, saw what the rest of us did not: if we told the robots where Merlin was, we would lose our only hope of survival.

  “No, I don’t.” My father’s voice was sincere. “You see how destitute my people are. Nothing leaves this planet and nothing arrives, even news. If it’s Merlin you want, you’ll have to go find him.”

  The general motioned to two of his soldiers, who approached my father and held his arms behind his back. My father’s eyes were wide, but he did not struggle.

  “You,” the general said, pointing to me. “You’re his daughter, if my scanner reads correctly.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us where to find Merlin, or your father dies.”

  The crowd gasped and began to whisper amongst themselves. I looked to my father, who just barely but still perceptibly shook his head no. Then, as I stared at his face, he began to transition, the white bones of his dragon snout pushing through the skin covering his jaw.

  Buy time.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you,” I said, “but let my father go. If you injure him, nothing you do or say will convince me to spill Merlin’s secrets.”

  The general nodded, and the soldiers released my father. He crumpled to the ground, probably so that they would not notice his dragon face. The crowd’s whispers stopped, and I knew that my father had told them what he had, without needing a single word, told me: fight.

  “Now, let me see,” I said, drawing out every syllable. “What do I know about Merlin? Excellent question. Well, we must start at the very beginning: his birth. Born of an Earth human mother and an incubus, who gave him his magical powers, Merlin was later reborn as Mani, a half dragon from his dragon mother, Aster. After her death, the baby was found by a famous wizard, Allanah, and her lover, an Igreefee named Dena. Anyway, Allanah had already fallen in love with General Cormac of the wizarding world, but—”

  “Silence.” The robot general put out his hand as though he might cover my mouth with it and walked toward me with the palm outstretched. Up close, his eyes were vacant black disks that pulsed as they adjusted to the light and amount of focus, like camera lenses.

  “We know all of this already. For ten years we questioned Merlin’s associates, just like my soldiers will question you if you don’t give us the information we want. Torture. Death. Disease. Destruction. Is that what you want?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, something white took flight. Then another, and another. Like a flock of seagulls rising on a thermal, all of the villagers took flight.

  Transition, Nimue, my father ordered, but I had a better plan. I knew we would never defeat them, and if we took flight into the sky like Sara Lee, the robots would laser beam us one by one. We would be the pigeons and the robots would be the rifles. So instead of running away, I ran right toward the ramp that led to the robot ship.

  No! Stop!

  Too late. The robots were distracted by the dragons, who, with their bone bodies, made it very difficult to actually hurt them or even hit them, and I ran right onto the ship with no hand-to-hand combat required. One of the robots near me realized my plan too late, and as I slammed my fist on the red button that lowered and lifted the ramp, his arm caught in the crack. The ramp hesitated, whirling in frustration, then closed with a snap. On the deck, the robot’s arm wrenched once and then went quiet.

  Racing through the hallway to the upper deck, I had no time to stop and investigate the strange “robot fuel” vending machines in the cafeteria, nor the sleeping quarters and their double bunks and power cords. All this I took in through my peripheral vision, while my focus remained on getting to the upper deck before the robots tore through their own ship’s hull. Already they pounded, and their drumming beat echoed the sound of my nervous heart.

  Finally, I found the control center. As a Dramanian with no experience off-world, I had no idea how to fly a spaceship, nor even get one off the ground. But as an avid reader, I could guess. My hands found the power switch, and after I flicked the metal lever up, the spaceship and its computerized steering process came to life. Just set your destination, input your speed, and let the ship do the rest.

  Barely breathing, my fingers pressed four letters into the system: B-A-L-U.

  Within seconds, the computer responded on the screen.

  BALU FOUND. SET COURSE FOR BALU?

  YES.

  SETTING COURSE FOR BALU. THE SHIP WILL BE OUT OF DRAMAN’S ATMOSPHERE IN T-MINUS FIVE MINUTES.

  CONFIRM.

  As soon as I heard the thrusters, I began
my transition. I needed to, if I wanted to try to communicate with my people. Please work, I thought to myself, as though my telepathy was a thing I could coax. By the time that spaceship took off, they needed to be safely inside.

  Fly now, I called as soon as I could, and somehow, I knew the words were not just in my mind but in the minds of all the Dramanians around me. As soon as I’m in the air, I’m going to lower the ramp. Everyone needs to be inside in four and a half minutes, or you’ll be left behind.

  Through the glass, I watched as robots and dragons battled below me. The robots were strong, even against such a beast as a bone dragon, and they had adapted to our bodies’ strengths by tying the wings and talons of our people to their bodies so that they could not attack or fly. Some would be left behind, I knew, to be questioned by the robots. Some would die.

  At that moment, I knew that for the rest of my life I would never forget how it felt to watch part of my village pulled to the ground and tethered while the rest flew, trusting a plan they did not even know. I would never forget, for the rest of my life, what it meant to be queen.

  Chapter EIGHT

  SKELLY

  LUCKILY I needed no air to breathe once we got into space, because I would have been hyperventilating. As we flapped, I replayed the exchange with the master of ceremonies over and over again and saw him in front of me like a mirage in the Draman desert.

  Red or black, dear?

  Neither.

  What did they say?

  I said neither. I will not choose.

  Oh, how I’d hated my parents during that ceremony. They just stood there, mouths wide, while their king threatened to throw me in the dungeon like a stray dog unless I picked a robe. In the end it had been this random stranger, a girl who wished she were a boy and was in love with her royal leader, who had saved me from arrest.