Starfall

by Jamie Sedgwick

  Kynan led the group over a wooded ridge and brief upslope, until they crested another mountain. Here, the land leveled out for several miles to the north and west. Further north rose steep, nearly impassable mountains, the size of which none of them had ever seen before. Dense forest rose around them, blocking much of the view. Loren noted something different in the air.

  “Water,” he said, giving Kynan quizzical look. “Why do I smell water? Is there a lake nearby?”

  Kynan gestured for Loren and the others to follow. He guided the group to a deer trail that led deeper into the woods and then began a rapid descent. The air grew cool and moist as they walked, and the moss-covered trees around them became taller and wider. Soon, they were weaving their way around giant trees, the trunks of which took up the footprint of a small house. Some were even larger.

  As the trail leveled out, the woods opened up and they saw a lake stretching out before them. The humans cheered, and a few dropped their packs to run for the water. After their trip along the border, they hadn’t seen this much water in weeks.

  “Wait!” Kynan called, racing after them. “Don’t touch it!”

  Loren was right at his side, speeding across the clearing to the water’s edge. Just as they reached the water, the sun came out from behind a cloud to reflect on the milky-white surface

  Vann stood at the water’s edge. His features twisted up as he stared at the waves lapping against the pebbled beach. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Loren gave the others a concerned look. “It’s tainted with starfall,” he confirmed. “I’ve never seen so much.”

  “This is what the Legion is after,” Kynan said. “This is why those ghouls have been on our trail.”

  “With this much starfall, they could rule the world,” said Vann.

  Loren shot a glance at the other two Tal’mar. “Socrates should know about this.”

  “Impossible,” said Kynan. “We’d never make it to Ironhold. Not through all those ghouls. We can’t even be sure Socrates is alive.”

  “We’ll reach Astatia in less than two days,” Tasha said. “When we get there, we’ll tell River’s mother. She’ll know what to do.”

  “We may not have two days,” Loren said with a grim look. “The ghouls aren’t far behind us, and we’ve seen large detachments moving west. The war may already have begun.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We need to get these humans to safety. Is there some place nearby where we could hide them? A cave perhaps?”

  Kynan spoke up. “There is a hollow tree on the north slope. They should all fit, easily. I doubt these ghouls will go that far north since they’re here for the starfall.”

  “Perfect. Take the humans there and wait for me.”

  “Wait?” said Tasha. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find a way to slow these monsters down. They can’t use the starfall if they can’t get it out of here.”

  “Be careful,” Tasha gave him an anxious look.

  “Don’t worry about me. Get the humans to safety.”

  Chapter 21

  Aileen found King Dane at the edge of the plateau, gazing out across the plains of Ashago. He was a striking figure: a tall broad-shouldered silhouette against the red glow of the Firelands as the wind tousled his long black hair and tugged at his heavy fur-trimmed cloak. Aileen crept up behind him, snaking her arms around from behind to embrace him.

  “What do you see, my king?” she whispered into his ear.

  He made a sighing sound. “Blood,” he said in a rumbling voice. “Blood and war and death.”

  “Is it so bad? Is there no hope?”

  Dane turned to face her, gazing down into her watery eyes. “It’s not our deaths I see. It’s theirs.”

  A look of surprise flickered across her features and then morphed into a smile. “I should have known. You are nothing if not fearless.”

  “There is nothing to fear. The Legion’s forces have moved into the west. All that’s left are a few detachments. Four, maybe five thousand. We’ll strike at dawn, and be done in time for lunch.”

  “Did I forget confident?” she said with a grin.

  Aileen took his hand in hers and stood beside him, gazing down over the black landscape. The acrid stench of burning sulfur and tar came to her, carried on the breeze. Bright red streaks of lava flowed into pools here and there, and lightning flashed, first nearby and then hundreds of miles to the south.

  “It’s like a storm that never ends,” she said. “Like the world eating itself.”

  Dane didn’t respond. He was lost in thought, going over the battle plans in his head for the thousandth time. Aileen glanced at him. “Have any of the scouts returned?”

  He gave a nod of his head, and his bangs fell down over his eyes. “It is as we thought. The Legion’s main force has moved through southern Kantraya, working towards the border of Astatia.”

  “It should be easy to take them by surprise, coming up behind them,” Aileen said. “With nowhere to retreat, they will be crushed between the two armies.”

  “That’s the plan,” he said.

  She frowned. “And yet you seem as if something is bothering you. What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Our scouts saw a detachment of several dozen ghouls moving north into the mountains, halfway between here and Astatia.”

  “That is odd. What do you think they are doing?”

  “That is what’s bothering me. There’s nowhere for them to go in that mountain range. It would take months to move into Astatia from that direction. By then, the war will be long over. They can’t be scouts, and they’re not saboteurs. So, what are they?”

  “Let it be,” she said, drawing him back towards the camp. “The scouts will learn what they are doing. Tonight, you need your rest. Come, my king. I will help you to sleep.”

  Dane smiled. He wasn’t in the mood for romance, but no man could resist the allure of a woman like Aileen. He followed her into camp, around the bonfires, past the knights and militiamen drinking in circles or wandering around too anxious to sleep. The couple slipped quietly into their tent at the western edge of the camp. As Aileen had promised, very soon Dane was sound asleep.

  Some time in the night, Dane’s eyes snapped open. It was dark in the tent, but he immediately recognized the silhouette of a man hovering over the bed. Dane leapt, driving his shoulder into the mysterious intruder’s midsection. The man let out a grunt and they tumbled to the ground.

  The two landed in a tangle of blankets. Dane took an elbow to the chin as he struggled to free himself. He saw the glint of steel and reached out, searching for the hilt of the weapon. On the other side of the tent, there was a crash. Aileen gasped. She called out his name, and Dane heard the sound of a slap.

  The momentary distraction gave Dane’s attacker an opening. The assassin raised his blade, bringing it down in a stabbing motion aimed at his throat. Dane threw out an arm, deflecting the attack. He countered with a knee to his attacker’s midsection. The blow stunned the assassin. In an instant, the king was on his feet.

  The assassin swept the blade across the floor, aimed at Dane’s ankles. The king leapt back, right into the arms of another intruder. The third man caught him around the chest and brought his arms up, trying to lock them behind Dane’s neck. The king’s broad shoulders were too much of a stretch, and the man couldn’t get him in a headlock. They struggled for a moment, until across the room, the shield came off a lantern. Dim light flooded the tent. Dane snarled as he recognized the face of the man before him.

  “Lydian!”

  The queen’s ex-adviser gave Dane a grim smile as he raised his long dagger. “You should have left with your friends.”

  Dane threw his head back, slamming it into the face of the man holding him. There was a crunch of breaking cartilage. The man stumbled backwards with a painful grunt. Dane kicked backwards, driving his heel into the helpless assailant’s ribcage. The man crashed into the nightstand, and then into the wall of the t
ent. The structure shook as he went down in a heap. The water pitcher on the stand went down with him and the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Dane threw a glance at Aileen, and found that she and her attacker had both dropped to the floor.

  Lydian came forward, thrusting the dagger at Dane in a low stabbing motion. The king twisted. He caught Lydian by the wrist and dragged him closer. Lydian threw a punch with his free hand. The blow glanced off the king’s jaw. Dane brought up his elbow, slamming it into Lydian’s face. The adviser howled as blood gushed from his nose.

  Dane twisted Lydian’s arm until the dagger slipped out of his grip. Then, he twisted just a bit more. There was a loud crack! and Lydian dropped to his knees, screaming. Dane caught him by the skull, one hand under his chin, and twisted. Lydian’s neck broke in one swift, sudden movement.

  As Lydian dropped, the third attacker moved in. He had a long silver-handled rapier that sliced through the air as he came forward. Dane moved back. The sword danced through the air, arcing down from the left, up again, and back. Dane’s sword was under the bed, behind his attacker. The king moved to his left, going for one of the table knives. The assassin anticipated this, and lunged at him. The tip of the blade scraped across Dane’s bicep. He leapt back out of reach, still weaponless, blood trickling from the shallow wound.

  Dane bumped up against the wall of the tent, and realized he’d been backed into a corner. The attacker shot him a grim smile. He raised the blade, poised for the killing stroke. Dane drew his gaze from side to side as he looked for a means of escape, or any item that he might use as an improvised weapon.

  There was a flash of steel and a sudden hacking noise, like a butcher’s blade slicing through the flesh of an animal. The assassin’s eyes went wide. His head tipped forward and then rolled off his shoulders. There was a spray of blood as the head hit the floor and rolled to the side. The decapitated body crashed to the ground at his feet.

  Dane lifted his gaze to find Aileen standing there, his massive broadsword clutched in both hands, a spray of blood covering her nude body. The tent flap opened, and Gavin came racing in with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other.

  “What the devils?” he said, scanning the room. He did a double take as he saw the nude queen standing there, covered in blood and wielding a sword almost as big as she was. Then he saw Dane, and the bodies on the floor. He cleared his throat.

  “Um, your highnesses... Should I come back later?”

  Aileen lowered the sword. She faced him without so much as a hint of embarrassment. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gavin. Clean this mess up. And send word to Dragonwall. I want Lydian’s accomplice executed immediately.”

  “Of course, your highness.” Gavin pushed the flap aside and called for help moving the bodies. Several young militia fighters stormed into the room. They yanked their gazes away when they saw the naked nobles standing there. Aileen and Dane didn’t notice. They were staring at each other, smiling.

  As the men finished hauling the bodies out, Aileen said, “I suppose now I’ll have to put the king back to sleep again.”

  Dane looked her up and down. “Maybe a bath first.”

  Aileen’s face lit up. “A bath! What an excellent idea.”

  Chapter 22

  Socrates hadn’t spoken to River in two days. At first, she had come to check on him at regular intervals. At those times, Socrates had been preoccupied to say the least. He’d been engrossed in studying the technology and history of Ironhold, in learning how it had been designed and built by the early survivors of the cataclysm, and how their culture had evolved out of that calamity.

  He had found a strange and abrupt ending in the city’s records that even Altaire couldn’t explain. It was as if the city’s inhabitants had suddenly vanished. There was no hint of what had become of them: no record of a plague, nothing about an enemy invasion or even a civil uprising. The city had suddenly and inexplicably emptied, leaving behind only the machines they had built to serve them.

  After several days in deep study, Socrates suddenly came back to himself. In retrospect, he realized that he had been rather dismissive of his human companion. To his shame, he realized that River had eventually stopped coming altogether. This had begun to bother Socrates even earlier, but Altaire had always been there to distract him. Not that this was a challenge, for Socrates had been like an addict, delving into the city’s mysteries, barely able to contain his elation at each new discovery. He had wanted to share these discoveries with River, but according to Altaire, she was out exploring the city, looking for something to help defeat the Legion.

  Eventually, this explanation began to tire, and so did the ape’s patience. In fact, when he came out of the Iron Castle’s great library that particular morning, he realized that several days had passed since he’d even left that room. Somehow, time had gotten away from him.

  “There you are!” Altaire said, hurrying up to him as Socrates walked through the main hall. “There is something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

  “Not now,” Socrates grumbled. “I need to find River.” The gruffness of his own voice actually surprised him. Socrates realized it had been some time since he had performed a self-diagnostic. He suddenly worried that his internal components had begun to overheat.

  “She is fine,” Altaire said. “I’m sure she will be back any moment. Wouldn’t you like to-”

  “No,” Socrates said, no longer making any effort to restrain his temper. “I need to talk to her. Where is she?”

  The android gave him a perplexed look. “Well, how should I know?”

  The ape frowned. There was something unusual about the android’s reaction that gave him pause. “I’m going to check her sleeping chambers,” he said. Altaire made a sighing noise.

  “Very well. Hurry back after you’ve found her.”

  After Socrates stepped into the elevator, he didn’t see the dark look that swept across the android’s features, nor was he aware of the conversation between Altaire and the guard who appeared afterward.

  “Watch him,” Altaire said in a quiet voice.

  “And if he grows suspicious?”

  “I had hoped to capture his sympathies, but I can see now that it hasn’t worked. Do what you must.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  River was not in her room, nor was she anywhere else in the castle, as far as Socrates could tell. In fact, her chambers looked like she had hardly been there at all. He suddenly found himself wondering where she had been sleeping all this time, and what she had been eating. Her human frailties sprang to mind in a way that made the guilt bubble up inside of him, and Socrates became furious with himself.

  At least she has her weapon, he thought as he finished scouring the castle and headed for the entrance. River knows how to take care of herself. She may be out there alone, but she’s safe...

  He wanted to believe this, but couldn’t help the uneasy feeling growing inside of him. What if she wasn’t safe? What if something had happened, and he hadn’t been there for her?

  Socrates went door to door through the city, building by building. He called out to River, and heard only the clicking and whirring sounds of his own internal mechanisms in response. He searched attics and basements. He came to locked doors and broke them down. Building by building, step by step he became more concerned.

  He also began to notice that the androids around him seemed to become increasingly interested in him. Some in fact, began to follow the ape. When he turned to glare at them, they tried to appear inconspicuous, or to vanish into the nearest building, but the machines were not particularly good at hiding. What struck Socrates as odd was that they had the intelligence to do so at all. He had been under the impression that these machines had no self-awareness; that they were simply designed and programmed to perform simple repetitive tasks.

  As time went on and River failed to appear, the ape felt a growing sense of urgency. Something was going on in Ironhold that wasn’t right. Altaire and the other machines h
ad deceived him. But why? Why conceal their true nature from him? Why manipulate him?

  Socrates found himself at the western end of town, not far from the city gates where they had crashed. As he walked down the street, he became aware of some sort of commotion outside the wall. He heard raised voices and the sounds of machinery. The Legion, he realized, was on the move.

  Socrates heard a noise and turned to find several dozen robots lined up in the street behind him. He watched as others came down the alleyways to fill the street and press in close along the sidewalks. There was a whining noise amongst them, and the crowd parted to let the castle guard through.

  “You?” Socrates said. “What is going on here? What have you done with River?”

  “Do you mean that primitive beast you call a friend? We have exterminated her!”

  Socrates lowered his stance. A beastly growl erupted from his throat. “You had better be lying to me,” he snarled.

  The guard twisted its head and made a clicking noise. It raised its arm, pointing at Socrates. “Machines, attack! Destroy him!”

  Socrates dropped to all fours and charged.

  The battle that followed was ferocious and impossible to describe. The ape struck the other machines violently, crushing them, hurling them through the air. At one point, he ripped the arm off of an android and used it as a weapon. This lasted only briefly, as the metal structures inside the arm quickly deteriorated under the force of combat.

  Socrates snarled and roared as he tore into the machines, rending them to pieces. Still, with every machine he destroyed, two more appeared. An unending throng had closed in about him, and Socrates could hear the grinding sound of his own body as it began to overheat. It soon became clear to him that there were too many. If this went on much longer, his internal mechanisms would grind to a halt, leaving him helpless.

  He turned, looking for an escape route. He launched himself in the air, reaching for a nearby balcony. Several robots crashed into him as he leapt, and he fell short. They caught him and bore him to the ground. As he fell, Socrates could have sworn he heard River’s voice. It was a shout, or maybe a scream, but he couldn’t be sure, because the roar of machinery drowned out the sound almost instantly.