The High Lord (Legends of Trianon: Starla Book 2)

by J. A. Comley

  He ran through the events of that evening, trying to figure out how things had ended up this way. The Baron, after sixteen years of bitter resentment, had finally made his move.

  Because of his hatred towards me, Starla got caught up in it.

  He remembered asking his sister why Starla would leave without saying anything.

  “She wouldn't,” he said out loud as another piece of information clicked into place. The ragged edges in the bird book. Right at the back where there were empty lines for notes. His grief, too, turned into a grim realisation.

  Redkin’s death was not simply part of Kyron’s attack on the City, but the Baron’s too.

  If that is true, then the Order must have many more spies than we thought, for him to have been deemed safe whilst so obviously Kyron’s.

  He felt another wave of shame hit him as he wished he could go back, support Redkin in his search for traitors. But he couldn’t. All he could do now was ensure that Kyron never received the one thing they had left. He stopped walking, and his escort eyed him nervously, all knowing full well that they stood no chance, even with his staff out of his reach.

  “Forgive me, my friends,” Larkel whispered.

  It was over in seconds. No one was even able to utter a sound. The Makhi's feeble containment spells were useless. Taking his staff from the frozen grasp of one of the Makhi, the High Lord stood straight and, drawing in a deep breath, he swelled his powerful chest.

  If the Baron’s schemes and Kyron’s attack were part of the same plan, then Galatia needed Starla, and her Soreiaphin magic, far more than it needed an obedient High Lord. Larkel glanced once at the palace then launched his body into a sprint, heading for the last place he had seen Starla.

  ***

  The little pond glowed in the light of the full moons, now just past their apex, the New Year having been ushered in with panicked screams and innocent blood.

  As soon as he arrived, he cast a spell at the water, the jagged edges in the bird book still fresh in his mind. Larkel muttered a curse. It echoed loudly in the small space. The water of the pond tested positive for lightning fern acid and trace amounts of paper, but nothing more. He cursed again, moving back to the entrance. There had to be something. Anything. His keen eyes swept the small enclosure, probing the shadows. Four tiny points of glowing light drew his attention to the shadows at the pond's base.

  Darting forward, Larkel snatched up the four scraps of paper, like a drowning man grabbing at a life vest.

  He tried unsuccessfully to fit the pieces together, then read the words out loud, feeling his heart swell, knowing that he had been right. Starla had left a note, explaining. He tried again until he thought he had them in the right order.

  at Gaby an

  o take them to Ky

  cause of me. I do

  o go and help. Y

  All my love, forever,

  Someone had got here before him and torn up the letter. He looked around for any more scraps of the letter but without any real hope. They had all gone into the pond.

  The Baron, no doubt, he thought, bitterly. Or one of his followers.

  So, she had left to help Gaby. The High Lord shook his head. What had convinced her to leave? Without him? He looked at the words again. She had written this in a hurry. His lips formed a thin line. Maybe she had been forced to? A threat against Eltara’s life, perhaps?

  Acting on his suspicions that the Baron at the very least was responsible for shredding the letter, he tilted his staff and touched its topmost crystal to the ground. In his mind, he heard his mother’s voice, teaching him the spell she had invented, one that took exceptional power to cast and a strong emotional bond to the person whose aura markings you were intending to trace. Only three people could cast it. His mother, his sister, and himself.

  “Aure Braxton Malion,” he commanded. The words weren’t necessary, but they helped keep his mind focused only on who he wanted to trace. Thanks to the Baron’s friendship with one of Larkel’s older brothers, he had known the man since he was born, and there was a firm bond between them, even if recent events had destroyed any continued friendship.

  Out of the chaos of footprints, mostly made by the City Guard in their search for Starla, one set began to glow in a faint, jade light.

  “Larkel!”

  The Commander's bark halted the High Lord mid-stride, the spell failing as he lost his concentration.

  Larkel looked regretfully at his sister-in-law then at the small group of Makhi and guards she had behind her. They all looked back at him apprehensively, staves and swords held ready. The fear in their eyes clearly spoke of their knowledge that they could not best him.

  “I am sorry, sister,” Larkel said, addressing only Medara. “but I cannot be in prison at the moment. Starla needs me. I won't be locked away while she is out there.” Although he had kept his tone soft, the Makhi all flinched at the implied threat.

  Medara heaved a tired sigh. “Larkel, Galatia needs you. Look—”

  “No, Medara, you look,” Larkel interrupted, striding forward and handing the Commander the scraps of paper in his hand, ignoring the anxious looks of the Guards and Makhi, who had all tensed at his abrupt movement. None of them could harm him. Only the full force of Galatia's Makhi had even a chance at wearing him down.

  “Starla didn't leave without reason. She wrote that note on the back page of that bird book. She left it here for me to find. Someone,” his tone making it clear whom he thought it was, “tore it out of the book, shredded it and tossed it into the pond, and then took the book. Any Makhi here can do the test that will prove that paper and lightning fern ink were thrown in there sometime in the last few hours.”

  A Makhi, who had been inducted into the Order on the same year as Larkel, stepped forward and tested the water, then nodded their agreement with his finds.

  The Commander opened her mouth, probably about to point out how that didn't absolve Starla of any of the Baron's claims, but Larkel raised his staff, and all present except the High Commander flinched back automatically.

  “She did not leave this place and go back into the city. She left straight for the forest to help Gaby. I can prove it. One of you can link with me to verify my claims.”

  Medara waved forward the same Makhi, who took a deep breath the took Larkel’s offered hand.

  He touched his staff to the ground again, this time bringing up another connection. “Aure Starla.”

  A second set of footprints lit up, this time in a faint, rose-tinged gold.

  They led in from the garden paths to the stalls and then away to the far hedge where they vanished. “See?” Larkel said, impatiently.

  “And the ones before?” the Commander asked, in a business-like tone.

  “The Baron's,” spat Larkel, forgetting his brooding for a moment and casting the spell again, letting Starla’s fade away. They had entered the enclosure the same way Starla's had, but they left through the hedges, cutting a path directly for the Tower wall.

  He followed the tracks to the hedge, where a brighter jade aura lingered.

  The High Lord reached out, his fingers closing around something cold and hard.

  He held out the cufflink he had seen to the High Commander. “It bears the Baron's crest. He was here, although he denied it earlier. He headed for the Towers to get the Stones.” Larkel nearly growled as the urge to throttle the Baron intensified again. “He is Kyron’s.”

  The Makhi linked with him disconnected and attested to the accuracy of his claims, her voice subdued.

  “Larkel,” D'Ordeley cautioned, knowing her brother-in-law too well. “Accusations like that are part of why you are not taken seriously.”

  “Come on, sister, you know me. For years, now, we have worked together. You know I have always put Galatia's safety before all else.” He sighed. “She is Soreiaphin, Medara, a powerful one as she was able to break through Kyron’s spell blocking travel. And yes, I love her. I need to know that she is safe.”

  Lark
el resisted the urge to accuse the Baron again. Medara was right. If it looked like this was no more than a vendetta against the well-liked Baron, he would get nowhere.

  The High Commander considered the High Lord in silence, clearly trying to maintain an objective position. It was true that if Larkel had given Starla the bird book only after they came here together, and she didn't return to the city, then someone must have stolen it and placed it under Makhi Redkin's body. They, then, would be the prime suspect in his murder.

  At length, she spoke, her tone sure and authoritative.

  “You are right, High Lord. These findings must be presented to the King and council and, being caught in a lie, the Baron will have to submit to questioning under a Verelios Beam.” She held up her hand as Larkel took a step towards the palace. “No, your antics in the throne room will diminish the validity of the questioning,” she said, “and are the reason you're under arrest in the first place,” she added in a harsher tone.

  Larkel rocked back on his heels. “I cannot be in jail at the moment,” he repeated through gritted teeth.

  Medara shook her head. “No, you are of no use to Galatia locked up, but neither can I ignore a direct command. You broke the law, Larkel,” she said, her voice gaining volume and steel. “You need to let my team here escort you home. Accept house arrest and give me time to win the King back to your side by proving the Baron’s words false. There, you can plan, do something. We have no Shield, Larkel,” she reminded him, nodding grimly as the High Lord flinched at the reminder. “I mean it. Go home and stay there until I come for you. The Baron will be questioned. We will find her.” She took the cufflink from him.

  With a last, penetrating look at the High Lord, the High Commander gave her soldiers orders to return to the palace to round up the Baron, as well as his fiancée and Makhi Ditte, who had found the body. She told the Makhi to escort their High Lord home then stand guard until new orders arrived.

  With difficulty, Larkel kept his face smooth as Medara gave her orders and left at a trot for the palace, her soldiers close behind. He listened to their retreating footsteps, wondering how far Starla had got before one of the Baron's followers caught her. He knew the Baron wanted her, knew he wanted to use her against him. He felt sick thinking of what might await her, all out of a desire to cause him pain. The whole story about Gaby had probably been a trick, a trap to lure her away, the magic leading away just a decoy. Although how they had managed to convince her of that was beyond him. Again he thought of Eltara, found unconscious. Had it been for her life that Starla had gone willingly? Still, the Baron had to be keeping her prisoner somewhere. Even if he intended to give her to Kyron later, Larkel had no doubt that the Baron would want to use Starla as payback against him.

  And if Braxton is truly in league with Kyron, then he will not remain here much longer.

  His resolve hardened, and he gathered his magic, shaping it to his will, then loosed it. Not through his staff, which was unthreatening, pointing at the ground, but out behind him. The Makhi slumped to the ground, unconscious, struck by the quick and sudden spell. Larkel breathed a quiet sigh, feeling thankful that his sister had not been accompanying her wife.

  Concentrating, he sealed off his connection to the other Makhi, to the rest of his Order. He wanted no more pointless attempts to stop him. If he could get to Starla before the Baron left, not only would Galatia stand stronger, but she would be safe.

  He turned his back on the prone Makhi and left the little enclosure at a fast jog, not for his own house, but the Baron's.

  12

  Abyss Valley

  Starla twisted her ankle again, the pain secondary to the terror each new step brought as the drodemion's relentless pace dragged her through the unbreakable dark of Kyron's stronghold. Sometimes, the drodemion ported forward again, travelling many miles in an instant, as they had done just after Gaby screamed. Their magic made a journey that should have taken many months mere hours long.

  As soon as they entered Kyron's domain, she knew it. The magmus accompanying them had relaxed, no longer circling their position with its red eyes raking the ground. Instead, it flew with its head held high and lazy, booming wing-beats carrying it through the dark, clearly at ease.

  The tears she shed over Gaby's fate had run dry, leaving Starla feeling empty and fragile. She had lost track of time in the oppressive darkness, but she still fought against the crushing feeling of loss and emptiness. She still had to fight. Somehow, she had to get the Star away from here. Her plan to drop it again after they were away from anyone for the magmus to torture hadn’t been able to be enacted, magic holding her hands firmly away for her body. So Starla racked her brains for another option, allowing frustration and anger to awaken her numb body, her injured heart.

  She had allowed herself to be tricked out of the city to save Gaby, and had failed even to do that. She couldn’t fail everyone else too.

  Then, with a piercing cry that seemed to pierce her skull, the magmus disappeared into the darkness and the chain connecting Starla to the drodemion shaman vanished, along with her cuffs and the magic barring her from touching her amulet.

  Instinctively, Starla's first thought was to run but, as she turned back the way she had come, more drodemion appeared out of the solid dark, forming a loose circle around her.

  Swallowing hard, Starla mustered her strength. She hoped that the element of surprise would be enough for her to push through the circle of grey, melted bodies. None wore a black sash marking them as a shaman. If she could get beyond their reach, she might stand a chance.

  As she thought of this, the darkness began to brighten a little, turning red. No, not the darkness brightening, more like a light had been lit in a vast cavern, forcing the dark to retreat a little, where it waited, brooding.

  “And here she is,” a cold, disembodied voice echoed out of the blackness from behind her.

  Starla wheeled around, looking for the source, one hand raised in defence as the voice seemed to speak inside her mind as well as from without. In the faint glow of the landing magmus, she saw an impossibly tall, muscular humanoid male, his head cocked to the side, a finger running along the pointed fork of his ear.

  Starla took an involuntary step back. His hair was the colour of fresh blood, dead straight, and hung loose to his waist, continuously shifting and moving as if it were alive. Though his face was mostly in shadow, Starla felt the hostility in his gaze, the raw power that put even Larkel’s to shame. She shivered. She had seen this being before, in Larkel's worst memories.

  “Well done,” he continued, patting the magmus, his golden skin glittering, beautiful to behold.

  “As promised, Master,” the magmus hissed. It appeared to be growing again, the fires within it burning bright.

  Starla watched with horrified fascination as the magmus enlarged to three times the size it had been in the grobbler's clearing. Its long neck arched over the small circle of drodemion. The flickering fire within it illuminated the two figures within the circle, bathing them in flickering, red light.

  Starla turned her gaze back to the man before her, the Demilain Destroyer, Kyron. His dual-coloured eyes, mostly a dark mauve, fell on Starla with the weight of all his millennia pressing down on her.

  He took a step towards her, his sleeveless coat fluttering open from his bare chest, revealing more of the jagged, geometric pattern that ran down his left side.

  “Welcome to Abyss Valley.” His cold voice held a hint of sarcasm. “You seem terribly afraid of me. You have seen me in another's memories, yes?” His pleasure at her fear was evident in every word he uttered.

  “Kyron,” Starla heard herself breathe, taking another step backwards. Yes, she was afraid. She knew his cruel smile well, as it now curled his lips over his pointed teeth, longer and sharper than the Sacrileons’.

  “You need to learn some respect, it seems. After all, I have come to collect you, myself. You should be honoured,” he said. His voice was still cold, but a slight undercurren
t of anticipation ran through it now. “Light!”

  The giant magmus behind him raised its great head into the sky and blew flames in a ring above the circle.

  Starla flinched from the heat and sudden brightness. Stunned, she watched in amazement as the flames remained hovering in the sky, illuminating Kyron and a small portion of Abyss Valley in perfect clarity. The rest remained an impenetrable dark, still waiting to consume the light once more.

  Trying to ignore the cruel stare that examined her in the harsh new light, Starla looked around furtively, trying to find an escape route even as her legs trembled with fear. Only one coherent thought kept looping in her head.

  I can’t let him have it.

  As she took in the ash-covered ground, the blackened tree stumps, the oppressive, clinging dark, Starla felt anger try to push in beside her fear. This had been Beky's home. Galatia’s other Guardian had lived here. These had been the Light Meadows. They had once been beautiful, magical. She'd seen them in Larkel's mind. Thinking of Larkel gave her more strength to ease the shaking in her legs.

  I will see you again, my love, she thought, then amended that as Kyron took another step forward and she another step backwards. I will not doom our home. I will keep the Star away from him.

  Suddenly, Kyron was laughing. It was a high, mirthless sound which seemed to freeze the air, but worse than that, Starla felt a wave of horrified recognition. She knew the laugh that now shredded through her mind. She had been hearing it for weeks, a backdrop to many of the nightmares she had been having.

  Starla's eyes snapped up to his face in horror, the hair on her arms and neck standing on end. She took another step backward as he fell silent, leaving her only a step away from the loose wall of drodemions. Tears burned her eyes. Had the dreams been real? Or had Kyron somehow taken their faces from her mind, just as he had placed the dreams?