The Starless Girl

by Liz Delton

  A peel of laughter welled out of Kira. Thistle chirped, and they both looked back at the gate as the door slammed shut.

  “That was amazing!” Kira cried.

  Thistle jumped down from her shoulder and onto the front rim of the saddle. His dark eyes gazed up at her in amusement, his whiskers twitching.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Gekkō let me borrow some of his magic,” he said in a not-so-offhand voice. Then he took another leap up to the top of Meluca’s head. Kira snickered. It looked like Meluca was wearing a ridiculous furry hat. Thistle held onto the tuft of hair between Meluca’s ears with a tiny paw and gazed out at the Kaidō Road ahead.

  “You aim to follow the Grey Knights?”

  “Yep,” said Kira. “They can lead me to Heliodor. I just have to get to the Storm King first.”

  The nighttime ride was much like Kira’s first night in Camellia, except that she had a flying squirrel for a companion instead of a taciturn knight. Guilt surged up into her chest at the thought of Anzu. She still didn’t understand why the knight was mad at her. What if they never got a chance to make up? Anzu had been the first person to help her in Camellia. She had saved Kira from that demon on the bridge.

  A sudden thought struck her. Was Anzu mad that Kira had chosen Zowan instead of her to apprentice under as page? The knight still had no page or squire as far as Kira knew. If only Kira could explain that it hadn’t been her choice. Just another lie Nari and Ichiro had forced on her. Well, the lying is soon to be over, no matter what.

  Kira studied the landscape, shades of grey, silver, and white outlining the blackness of the night. The nearly full moon was unhindered by clouds, and the myriad of stars shone down like a thousand dim spotlights. Even someone without Light magic would be able to see tonight.

  Every so often, Kira would urge Meluca into a canter to catch up to the two riders, Sir Jovan and what must be another Grey Knight. Thistle had retreated back to her shoulder, where his grip was better.

  “How do you endure all this bouncing?” he complained as they slowed back into a trot.

  “You get used to it, I guess.” Kira shrugged. Thistle’s tiny claws sank into her shoulder as he wobbled. “Sorry.”

  “Do you think we’ll be there by tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I think so. When Anzu and I traveled this far, it was just overnight. Why tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think I can cling to either of you beasts for much longer,” Thistle chirped. Kira chuckled.

  “But really, Kira,” he went on in a lower voice. “The full moon will undoubtedly bring more complications. Gekkō is in haste to have this crisis solved before any more spirits—” He squeaked.

  Kira swiveled her head about, her heart racing. She looked around for the source of his interruption, thinking he had spotted something. There was nothing. “What about the spirits?” she finally asked.

  “Spirits?” Thistle echoed, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “You said before any more spirits. Before any more spirits what?”

  Thistle squeaked again; this time it sounded more like a high-pitched groan. “It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong with the spirits.”

  “Just tell me.”

  Thistle leapt down from her shoulder to the saddle. He clutched the rim of the saddle with all four tiny paws. “Fine. It wasn’t my idea to keep it from you. I told Gekkō we should tell you, tell the leaders ourselves even. But he’s an old man. Perpetually old. Perpetually stubborn.”

  Kira stared down at Thistle, open-mouthed. The words just breezed out between his whiskers as if he had been dying to let them out. She glanced up to check their distance from Sir Jovan then gave her full attention to the flying squirrel.

  “It’s the spirits. Something is tampering with the makeup of Camellia. It’s throwing them into chaos.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong with the spirits?”

  “The creatures. It’s the spirits, seized by madness and a darkness that is neither Shadow nor Light. The dragon Kichi was a great loss. He was the spirit of luck in the village near Gekkō’s mountain.”

  “The village with the earthquake? Was it something to do with the rift?”

  Thistle nodded, and Kira recalled Mistress Nari’s worry that it hadn’t even been Shadow magic. She was right. If only Nari and Ichiro had stopped to listen to Kira.

  “The two had known each other since the creation of Camellia. The village isn’t so lucky anymore.”

  “What’s causing this?” Kira demanded in horror. The idea that a spirit—a benign one like Gekkō or the unknown luck spirit—could be tainted in such a way…

  “A human.”

  “The Storm King?”

  “No. We do not know who, but it is not the Storm King Raiden Koi. Gekkō has been communicating with various spirits across Camellia, including the spirit of the lake beside the Spire temple, and she assures us that Raiden is not involved in this particular horror.”

  Kira rode on in stunned silence for several minutes. Only the sound of Meluca’s hooves on the road filled their ears. Sir Jovan was becoming a smaller speck on the horizon, and she would have to bring Meluca to a canter again soon.

  “Thistle? Are there spirits in the Starless Realm?”

  “Doubtful. Camellia is preferable to that magicless realm.”

  “It’s magicless?”

  He nodded his tiny head. “More or less.”

  “But I saw Light magic there. And there was a dark-creature. Was it a spirit from Camellia then?”

  Thistle’s dark eyes became creased with worry. “Maybe they are following you,” he muttered.

  “Don’t say that! I thought you said they weren’t?”

  Meluca nickered, surprised by Kira’s outburst.

  “Gekkō thinks they’re attracted to powerful magic, hence why Kichi was drawn to the temple that night. All those knights and Sir Jovan. Yet one found you, alone?”

  Kira nodded, wordless.

  “What did it look like?”

  “Like a demon. Like a big dog with a short tail, but the size of an elephant.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps I should ask Gekkō if he knows which spirit that might have been. What happened to it?”

  “I don’t know, I went through this door—”

  The percussion of Meluca’s hooves was suddenly joined by another set of hooves, and another, and another.

  Kira whipped around to see six riders approaching from behind. They weren’t far.

  “They can’t see us, can they?” Kira cried. “Thistle?” she hissed when he didn’t respond.

  She caught, “Maybe we’re too far from the mountain,” before the riders had reached her.

  An unnatural wind bore down upon her, and she was thrown from Meluca. She landed hard on the ground, slamming onto one side.

  Blearily, she could see Thistle still stuck to the saddle, though he had curled into a little ball. If they were lucky, the riders would think he was a fluffy saddle ornament.

  Luck. That poor spirit. Kira would have loved to meet a dragon spirit of luck. Especially at this moment.

  Another gust of wind knocked her onto her back before one of the riders dismounted and came to stand over her.

  Shadow mages, to be sure. At least none of them had tried that darkness trick on her yet, like her first encounter with Shadow mages.

  The man standing above her began to chuckle. He wore a long coat over a set of robes, and the wide sleeves whipped in the Shadow wind he controlled.

  “It’s just a girl!” He laughed. “What did you think it was, Tai? A Grey Knight, was it?”

  Some of the others joined in the laughter, and a few more dismounted. They all wore the same robes, decorated with modest designs that Kira could see with her Light magic.

  Kira didn’t move. She didn’t want to give them an excuse to pull that darkness trick on her. She still had her dagger tucked in her sash, but she would be useless with Light magic against these mages. She clutche
d the shoulder she had fallen on and stared up at them.

  “I tell you, I heard the Grey Knights were riding through here. I heard they were summoned,” another voice said, undoubtedly Tai.

  “This isn’t even a knight, no matter the shade,” a woman laughed. “What are you doing out here alone, little girl?”

  Kira grit her teeth. She hated it when people called her that. But she had an idea.

  “I’m on my way to talk to the Storm King.”

  A thrill of excitement ran up her spine. The truth.

  The woman let out a short bark of laughter.

  “I’m from—I’m from the Starless Realm.”

  No one laughed this time.

  Finally, the first man spoke again. “The Starless Realm…you?”

  “Yes. Me. I need to talk to the Storm King and deliver a message to him.”

  “A message?” the man called Tai drawled. “From Gekkō-ji? What do they want?”

  “Not from Gekkō-ji. From Gekkō himself, the spirit of the mountain there.”

  “Shadow save us,” the woman muttered. “Look, girl, what are you really doing out here? Quit lying.”

  “I’m not lying!” Kira shouted.

  The Shadow mages looked just as surprised at the outburst as she felt.

  “I’m not lying,” she repeated, quieter. “Can I get up now?”

  She heard a grunt that she took for approval and gingerly got to her feet. The Shadow mages automatically took a few steps back. Kira could feel a strange breeze coming from one of them, but it seemed confined to the small space around the woman wielding it.

  What a strange bunch of mages, she thought. She was glad this group asked questions first, unlike the ones who had attacked Kira and Anzu on the road last time.

  “You say you’re from the Starless Realm?” Tai questioned. Kira could see the outline of curiosity burning in his face, but it was tempered with suspicion.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “What were you doing at Gekkō-ji?” the first man asked.

  Kira was enjoying the rush of truth-telling. “I, uh, have Light magic.”

  The small breeze swirling around the woman across from her surged from its confines and whipped around the circle.

  “Kaya,” the first man snapped at her. “Control.”

  The breeze died down, and the woman stepped a few paces away, her head bowed. “Sorry, Sagano.”

  “So you thought a Light-wielding visitor from the Starless Realm could just wander into Shadow territory, demanding to see the Storm King?” Tai wondered.

  “Can you take me to him or not?” Kira demanded.

  They just stared at her.

  “I think we kind of have to with that story,” Tai muttered.

  The first man, Sagano, said, “If she’s lying, we’ll just use her as bait for the Light knights.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Hall of Spirits

  A dark tower loomed over the city of Heliodor. The Spire, they called it. It was impossibly tall. There was no way any Camellian could possibly have built such a structure without magic. It was like the Empire State Building standing over North Noxbury.

  But Heliodor was much bigger than North Noxbury. It was full to bursting with houses and shops and lots of other buildings Kira couldn’t identify, contained—just barely—by a thick stone wall.

  The morning sun shone cheerfully down upon the Storm King’s city as they headed for the open gate. They had let Kira ride. There hadn’t even been a conversation about it. Kira knew they felt secure in their power to knock her off her horse at any moment, so she behaved the whole way. Her shoulder still hurt from the first time.

  They had searched her bags, though, and taken her dagger. Sagano had been puzzled by the plastic library card in her pocket but let her keep it.

  Thistle remained hidden, curled into a motionless ball on the front of her saddle.

  “Heliodor,” Kira muttered, in case Thistle couldn’t see that they had arrived. He gave a twitch in response.

  Sagano, the mage in charge, rode up beside her. “You’ll keep quiet until we reach the Spire, you hear?”

  Kira nodded, eager to illustrate her willingness.

  Sagano grunted. “We’ll not bind you, but one attempt to escape, and you’ll be flying head-first into the nearest building, understand?”

  Another nod.

  “If you are who you say you are, we don’t want to treat you like a prisoner—but we aren’t stupid. The Storm King will be the one to decide if you’re telling the truth.”

  And that was that. A man she had never met, the man who had begun the entire feud between the temples, had been the demise of Azurite, would decide whether she lived or flew face-first into a wall.

  She just hoped her truth was more convincing than her lies.

  The city was busy. A market thrived at the entrance to the gate, spread over dozens of blocks. The vendors had set up their wares long before sunrise, and their first customers were already beginning to appear.

  Kira had no desire to make an escape. The mages would lead her right to the Storm King. It was meeting him she was worried about.

  The mages surrounded Kira as they passed through the market, penning in Meluca, so close to Kira that her leg rubbed against Sagano’s once or twice.

  It was clear that the citizens respected the mages. They moved out of the way when they spotted the cavalcade approaching, and the vendors didn’t bother them with their sales pitches.

  Farmers hawked fresh fruits and vegetables. Weavers displayed bolts of fabric ranging from the plain stuff bandages were made from to silks a queen would wear. Blacksmiths touted their daggers and swords.

  “Sharper than anything those Light idiots can conjure up, I tell you,” one blacksmith was saying to a thoughtful-looking teen as they passed. The blacksmith handed over the sword in question to the teenager, who pretended not to struggle under its weight.

  Kira snorted. Then she noticed another blacksmith’s shop and another. Then a bowyer, displaying arrows fletched with special hawk feathers. Why were there so many weapons shops? And then she realized.

  Light knights didn’t need to own physical weapons. They had an abundance of weapons at their fingertips at all times—as long as they had the skill to summon them.

  But Shadow mages weren’t helpless, even if they couldn’t create a sword out of thin air. They could conjure the wind, heal an injury, command storms. No wonder being a Grey Knight was so desirable.

  The Grey Knights. Where are they? she wondered. She was sure she had beaten them to Heliodor. There was no uproar, no commotion, other than the daily activities of the market. The appearance of the Camellia Six was sure to cause some kind of stir.

  Perhaps Sir Jovan was still gathering the Six. He had only one companion while she and Thistle had followed him. She bit the inside of her cheek. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should mention to Sagano and his mages about Sir Jovan’s imminent arrival. In one moment, drunk on truth-telling, she had almost told them, but she had held her tongue. Sir Jovan was Jun’s father. It would be a betrayal of Jun, not to mention the Grey Knights.

  She tried not to look up at the Spire, but it was an impossible feat. It was the tallest thing on the horizon, too tall, too narrow. As they grew closer, Kira could see it was tiered and with the slightest widening at the bottom. It must be fifty stories high.

  Eventually they left the market, and the mages led her through the rest of Heliodor, all the while rising at a slight incline, headed straight for the Spire.

  Kira’s nerves began to kick in. She reached down and patted Thistle for reassurance. One of his paws poked her. What if this had all been a mistake? What if the Storm King just killed her on the spot? All too easily she could picture being skewered by a lightning bolt. Visions of a sadistic Zeus assailed her brain. Ichiro and Nari had made her lie so that the Storm King wouldn’t find out about her. What if he kept her prisoner here, like he had kept Zowan’s family?


  Suddenly her jacket was too tight to breathe. Her eyes roamed over the city streets, and she felt like the walls were too close. The mages were too close. She would scream if any of them got closer.

  Then the buildings fell away. The open street led to a wide stone bridge, which crossed a deep canal. Beyond the bridge grew a lush green lawn. Past the lawn, beside a small lake, towered the Spire, the base of which they still couldn’t see because of the incline.

  Sagano led them across the bridge. Kira couldn’t help but stare up at the Spire now. It pierced the sky like a black dagger. All around them grew the most beautifully bright garden. The sprawling lawn was filled with Shadow mages, most of whom would kill her if they knew she had Light magic. The sunshine was marred by a set of storm clouds gathered in a far-off corner of the garden. Hovering over a grove of trees, the clouds began to produce rain, and Kira thought she saw a person underneath them throw their arms up in celebration.

  A beautiful pavilion stood by the lake. The ends of the roof curled up in delicate angles, and the stone roof tiles glittered dully in the sunlight. Underneath sat two perfectly still rows of trainees. Kira supposed they must be in a lecture or meditating or something. It was all rather peaceful.

  Too peaceful. Weren’t they at war with Light? Yet the market carried on, the meditation, the peaceful garden.

  It irked Kira. To see such calm proceedings here, when Gekkō-ji had just received three wounded men who had been lulled into a trap by the Shadow mages. Was it so easy for the Shadows? So easy to go to war, blast a few people with lightning, then come home and buy vegetables from a street vendor? A bit of meditation by the lake, then more chaos and ravaging?

  They finally reached the base of the Spire. A castle, with thirty or so different-sized sections with many roofs, sat at its base. The castle came close to the size of the entire courtyard of Gekkō-ji. Steep stone walls at the base raised the castle high, protecting it from attack. The only way in, so far as Kira could tell, was through one narrow passage between the walls. The stones that made up the walls were mostly as big as a horse. But there was one the size of an eighteen-wheeler that drew her eye as she imagined how that stone got here.