The Demon Star

Chapter 19 of Ardra

Upon entry to the villa's main room, Ed gripped Dan's hand in greeting. Dan, an affable man with glasses and a ready chuckle, listened to Ed's intro of the visitors and the problems facing them. Ed looked around the room. "Where is everybody?"

"Pete didn't come home from the gaming district," Dan said. "Typical." Ed reminded the visitors how Pete was the tall bro in the purple do rag. A green-skinned island woman came in from the kitchen area and exclaimed over the four rucksacks and the treasures they promised for her menus. Ed introduced her as the maid, Oki.

"Ed," Dan said, "hand me that newspaper. Give me a minute to sort out the sale papers before you go get the girls." He scanned the headlines. "I don't know why I read this. It's all lies. But at least I get a foggy notion what's going on back home. How close they are to blowing the place up." A chuckle.

Ed went down a corridor and tapped on a door. There came delighted feminine voices that must have included hugs. Ed was heard to say, "I could get used to this." Then came hurricanes Bonnie and Zena into the room, so intent on the sale goodies they didn't notice the newcomers. Zena wore a white peasant blouse with puffed shoulders over jeans. The shoes were a mid-heel strap like the ones worn by dancers. Bonnie favored a burgundy dress and tennis shoes.

"Ahem," Dan said, directing their notice to the two new men. The girls came to each take one of Moast's arms, apparently competitive in a playful sort of way. Dan introduced them.

Picard wasn't going to be left out. "That's a remarkable statue in the corner. I can actually see skin pores and eyelashes." He stepped closer to peer into the open mouth of a pirate who had an arm out against some horror. "Teeth, tongue, uvula. Incredible sculpting!"

Bonnie approached. "That's no sculpture. We had a scrap over on Rotbone island, and he got in the way of my Mace of Medusa."

"I wish she'd sell that thing," Dan griped. "It scares the maid. If we took any of the offers for it, we'd be rich."

Bonny wasn't going to leave Moast in Zena's clutches. "Zena is exuberant. Everything she says ends with an exclamation mark."

"Does not!" Catching herself, Zena still had Moast's arm. "What did you think about our poster in the studio?"

Moast didn't hesitate. "From the moment I saw you in that red outfit, I was naming our children."

She backed away, taking on a dazzling smile. "Moast, you're terrible!"

Bonnie rolled eyes. The better woman had won.

"All well and good," Picard decided, "but our mission is urgent. I propose a trip to Montfort to see to Sisra's safety."

Dan pushed at his glasses. "If you want the history of this world, see the Sybils on Mount Nuerca. They probably already know you're here."

"Perfect!" Zena enthused. "Like I'll take Moast there. Ed, why don't you take Captain Picard to Montfort."

So ensued another zip ride back to the terminus. Operators in an overhead booth set the destination and announced departures over loudspeaker. After Ed and Picard were away, there was a delay as Zena was obliged to sign autographs. Some of the island women had even cut their hair in imitation of her shorter style.

Montfort Abbey

Picard stepped out of the caged teleport he'd seen during the trip Ardra had brought him on in spirit. He stood in the very arena in which the young Sisra had saved the stricken youth. Camp guards escorted him and Ed to the fenced-off Commons tavern to the usual shouts of Team Dan! Ed gave them a jaunty salute. When he introduced Captain Picard, all assumed Picard to be a team leader. Ed enjoined him to wait here, where his money was no good, while he went to find Sisra.

Picard was peppered with questions about his deeds. These folks loved a good yarn. He decided to be truthful: he was here with Team Dan to stop an insidious plot by the Borg. The audience thrilled to his description of the monsters, the fights he'd had with them.

Abruptly they were scattered by a petite blonde in a blue pinafore and brown boots. Picard knew her instantly. "You're the sorceress who gave Sisra her lifeline to the study of magic!"

"You know me," she said, taking the other side of the booth, "but I do not know you, or what you want with Sisra."

He expressed it in terms she's understand. "I once say these things in a vision. Then I perceived a grave threat to Sisra. Say—your accent sounds French." Translator stones took getting used to. One heard an unknown tongue, which the brain understood.

"Yes," she said, relaxing somewhat. "My team name is Orchid, but I am born Amalie. As a child, I could make the candle flame shoot up." She illustrated with a rise of hands. "I joined the . . . the caravan to Locklor Castle on the Adriatic."

"Wait—you're from Earth?"

She nodded. "In the year of the Holy Quest, I joined a magic team that found the gateway at the bottom of their labyrinth." She saddened. "Our team was lost in a terrible fight. I was carried off by a giant flying thing, but I slash at its legs so I fall into a river. Now I am here." She paused to let him digest that. "Come, I want you to see something."

Orchid led him back into the arena, headed for the first of a series of suites carved out of the stone, all set behind a columned balcony that ringed the arena.

"This is our mission room, where we make the plans and get into gear." In the back space, maps hung on the wall, as did weapons and clothing. "This is the ladies room," she said, parting curtains into a side space. She opened a chest to pull out a well worn and patched dress and cap. "If you have the vision, then you know what this is."

"Of course. Sisra's maid dress. I suppose she's sentimental about it."

"Very good. Sisra wore it on our first missions as a poke in the face of all who persecuted her. How I wanted to burn it!" She noted the new arrival behind them. "Sisra, I will burn this yet!"

Picard's heart was in his mouth. Sisra wore an expensive black dress and tights with white piping in front. "I can't tell you what an honor this is."

She presented a hand in ladylike fashion. "Ed tells me of some threat from the dark realms. Who and why?"

She wouldn't understand a lightning transporter raid by the Borg, and he mustn't scare her from her destiny. "These beings are able to teleport. They can come and quickly carry you off. They're very anti-magic, and see this as a blow against the magic school." Picard showed them a drawing of a drone. "Show this around. If you see one, don't let it touch you or you're lost."

Orchid looked at it. "Are they the . . . wight, who steal your soul?"

"No. They inject particles that make you into what they are."

"That is awful! Just let them try to take Sisra!"

Picard stepped around to look across at the tall labyrinth doors. Enough layers of stone could thwart a transporter raid. And though the Borg defied energy weapons, they'd be no match for swords and magic spells. "Sisra, is there a safe place in the labyrinth for you?"

"There is a magic temple on sub-level five. We use it as a staging area for deeper missions. It's well fortified."

"Excellent! Can I prevail upon you to stay there for a few days?"

"I could only spare one day there. Since it takes a whole day to get there, that gives you three days."

"It will have to do." Picard took her hand again. "My part is done here. I must return to Lunari and make my report."

Mount Nuerca

The empire of Eolca, an offshoot of Earth's Roman Empire, was centered in Eolca Major. The island was actually smaller than the breadbasket island of Eolca Minor. Its magic academy and library jutted twin domes from an extinct volcano. The city proper spilled down its sides to the east in thousands of villas. At the very back of the volcano's apex perched the temple of the oracles. Supplicants had to climb a winding series of steps having an awe-inspiring view of the Pedale Sea.

Moast and Zena occupied a stone bench in a stark chamber. If the Sybils deigned to appear at their lofty station, petitioners had to cross a narrow catwalk to a circular platform. On either side lay a seemingly endless drop into the void.

"Moast, I'm sorry about that." In the scenic walk up here, Zena had idly taken his hand. That set off a frenzy of well-wishing and media attention.

"Forget it," Moast said. "Paparazzi are the same everywhere. Who cares what they think?" He took her hand again. "These old ladies are going to see us whether they know it or not."

A side door opened to admit a blue-robed Sybil wearing a sunburst symbol, but this one had short black hair, obviously dyed. Olive skin identified her as an outlander.

"Ooh," Zena said. "That's Lusia. You'll like her. She's sort of an outcast oracle, since she interprets the past instead of the future." The two women embraced. "Lusia, like this is Commander Moast."

"The Sybils have heard your petition," Lusia began. "Your enemy is the demon star."

Zena explained how a crippled space entity was trapped in a hundred year orbit of the sun after the world goddess reached out to smite it eons ago. On flyby, it raised a plague of demons from the dark realms that killed all the world's spell casters.

The theater attack, Moast realized, theorized by Picard.

"It has accelerated," Lusia said. "We have two weeks, not two years as before." Both women looked to Moast for a reaction. He had one.

"We always wondered how far back in time they went. That, ladies, is a Borg cube."