The Redstar Rising Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set 1: Books 1-3)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “If it helps," Aihara Na said, "there was no real danger.”

  Sora turned, slowly. “Excuse me?”

  “It was a test. You passed.”

  “A test?” Her brow furrowed, and as she went to stand, Aquira finally hopped onto her arm. One of her claws scraped Sora’s arm, making her yelp. The wyvern flapped away again, fearful.

  “What if I didn’t try to stop you?” Sora asked. “You mean to tell me you wouldn’t have killed that boy?”

  “He was inconsequential, just an orphan.”

  “Just an orphan?” Sora took several steps toward her, cheeks hot with rage. “I was just an orphan.”

  Aihara’s laugh was as hard and rigid as her face.

  “That isn’t funny,” Sora said.

  “Girl, you have no idea what you are,” Aihara Na said. “Who you are. Of what you are capable. But we do, and we want to teach you.”

  “If that means sacrificing more people, I’m not interested.” It took all her effort to force that ultimatum out, knowing it meant there would be no second chance for saving Whitney, but she had to believe he’d feel the same way. She hoped. There was a big heart hiding somewhere behind that selfish shell.

  “As I said, it was a test. We are not savages. I apologize if our current way of living has made us numb to your value of life. You can remain upset that a nobody might have died, but we were confident in your resolve. You proved us correct. You saved his life.”

  “Correct about what?”

  “That you would not sit back and watch as we opened a porthole to Elsewhere. That was the true test. In that, you passed.”

  “So, what? You were going to open up a gateway to Elsewhere by killing that boy?”

  “Of course not. That was not a real spell. Could you imagine? It was just a silly limerick meant to test your fortitude.”

  “But the things I saw there…” Sora hung her head, and Aquira must have noticed her heartache because she returned to Sora's shoulder and nestled against her face.

  “Only visions. We can, all of us, peer into Elsewhere, but the one thing that must never be done is creating a portal. You didn’t even know that, and your intuition persevered.”

  “I only cared about saving that boy,” she grumbled.

  “It matters not. You have seen what evil it is to open a bridge to the source of our power.”

  “But it can be done?” she asked impulsively. It was hard to hold back. Opening Elsewhere was the truest reason she’d been so eager to meet with mystics.

  “Can what be done?” Aihara Na responded slowly.

  “A gateway, a portal to Elsewhere.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you can do it?”

  “We guard that ability with our very lives. It is why the Order was founded in the first place. To keep those with the gift from undoing our world with power they scant understand.”

  “But I thought you all hid from the Glass Kingdom there, in Elsewhere. Isn’t that how you survived?”

  “So those legends reached even your ears. Lies told to appease a murderous foreign king. To make him stop his search for us. Once there were thousands of our kind, but we seven of the council who remain do so because we draw on every ounce of our power to stay hidden.”

  Aihara approached Sora, extended her hand, and gestured toward it.

  Sora hesitated, though, she wasn’t sure why. For so long she’d longed to meet the mystics, but seeing them test her with the feigned sacrifice of a child was difficult to pass over. What if all the awful rumors about them weren’t just lies spread by their conquerors.

  “Go on, take it,” Aihara Na said.

  Sora finally gave in, but her hand went right through Aihara Na’s as if the woman were little more than air. Her eyes darted between her hand and Aihara’s, words stuck on the tip of her tongue.

  “To draw on Elsewhere’s power so fully nearly destroyed us,” Aihara Na said. “But it was necessary for the Order to survive. We remain, not in Elsewhere, but in-between. Tethered here barely of body, but eternal.”

  Now Sora understood what Aran Bokeo meant about them being close to immortal. “Couldn’t you just have hidden in Elsewhere and returned?”

  “No!” Aihara Na bellowed, making the very walls shake. Sora winced. Aihara drew a long breath to calm herself, and Sora wondered if she even needed to breathe in her form, or if it was a habit, leftovers from when she was human.

  “Elsewhere is the realm of more than fallen gods,” Aihara Na said. “It is the well of our magic in this corporeal realm, and in that power, there is more than fire. To open Elsewhere, we invite demons, lesser gods, and dead men who refuse to believe their time here is through. If those with our gift traveled there and returned, it would not be as themselves.”

  “What would happen?”

  “What is this about, Sora?”

  “Curiosity,” she lied. “It’s just that… when you gave me that vision back in that chamber with Lord Bokeo, I think I saw—”

  “What you saw was only what lies within, nothing more. And a connection to Elsewhere lies within all mystics. It is the gift with which we are born. What makes us special. And it is that connection we seek to sharpen into a razor's edge here on Pantego.”

  “But it felt like I was there. I saw—”

  “You were not there.” Aihara Na interrupted again, staring straight into Sora’s eyes. “Listen to me Sora, and listen closely. I have trained many mystics in the centuries I’ve lived. Some, promising, living within these very walls. But far more perish, and there is no fate ghastlier than when a rebellious or clumsy soul finds itself possessed by a being of Elsewhere. That which goes there must stay. Too many born with the gift have come to us seeking training, driven by the desire to bring back those who have passed on from Pantego. We mystics are capable of many great feats.”

  Aihara Na flicked her hands and murmured in that same manner of mixed languages she had in the temple. Her words flowed as gracefully as her body, which whipped around in a dance of martial arts. A powerful gust of air zipped by Sora and swirled around the mystic, then turned into a globe of water over her hand. She swept it in a wide arc, and the water turned to ice. Then, slamming her fist into the floor, a circle of cracks spread wide. One zigzagged beneath Sora’s feet, but as the mystic rose again, the cracks reversed and vanished.

  “We can manipulate the elements that bind this world, mend wounds, extend our lives beyond comprehension,” Aihara Na said. If Sora wasn't paying attention, she wouldn't have noticed the mystic was panting. “We can even see beyond this realm, but we do not travel there, and we do not bring the fallen back. We mustn’t. I know the temptation might be strong. What is dead must remain dead. We have all lost, or will lose loved ones, but it is far too dangerous. Do you understand?”

  Sora managed a nod. She couldn’t tell Aihara that she’d just revealed that the mystics were capable of the very thing she’d come to Yaolin City to learn. If it would bring Whitney back, she didn’t care if it was dangerous, as long as nobody had to die to do it.

  “Where are we, Ancient One?” Sora asked Aihara Na, deciding it was time to stop resisting and play along.

  “You do not know?” Aihara Na replied. If she was pleased with Sora’s use of her formal title, her seemingly always staid façade didn’t show it.

  “How could I? You did that… thing… and then I was here.”

  “Yes,” the mystic said, now standing with her back to Sora. “I do apologize for that. I had to be sure you’d come, and I wasn’t sure what kinds of lies you’ve heard of this place. Liam spread so many after he destroyed the Council.”

  Aihara Na placed the palm of her hand against the wall, and the stones shifted, overlapping one another, some moving out and creating a platform on the exterior of the building, others folding inward. When it had finished, Sora was looking out over Lake Yaolin, enclosed on all sides by the city.

  She approached the new opening, breathless. They were twenty stories above the wa
ter. Perhaps more.

  “Welcome to the Red Tower,” Aihara Na said.

  By now, Aquira was comfortably perched on Sora’s shoulder, purring softly. Sora stroked her beneath the chin. She couldn’t help it.

  “I thought Liam made you seal this place up?” Sora asked.

  “He was a fool to believe we would use our own magic to keep us from the place where all magic is born. He also thinks us all dead. He grossly underestimated the lengths we’d go to protect the knowledge of proper magic on this plane.”

  Aihara Na turned to walk away from the window, and her body passed through Sora. Sora clutched at her heart, such cold stealing over her she thought she might pass out. The feeling left her nearly as soon as it had come.

  “Come, Sora,” Aihara Na said. “Let me show you around. This will be your home until training is complete.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “As long as it takes. Not a moment less or more.”

  Sora thought to retort, but the truth was, she had nowhere better to be. Troborough was gone, as was everyone she ever loved or loved her. In his own demented way, Wetzel loved her, and he was now ash. Her feelings for Whitney confused her, but vexing others was Whitney’s goal in life. She longed to be so frustrated by him that she had to punch him in the arm, yet at the same time, wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze. This was her only chance to have that feeling back.

  Aihara Na led her down a spiraling flight of stairs, and then another. As they descended further, Sora couldn’t believe she’d climbed all these steps while under the influence of Aihara Na’s magic. She didn’t remember any of it.

  When they reached a landing, she had lost count of how many flights they’d gone. She breathed heavily, but Aihara Na wasn’t affected in the slightest. The perks of having an ethereal body.

  “This way.” Aihara rolled her fingers, and a light bloomed in the center, revealing a hallway with rooms along the outside. They made their way to the other side of the tower, passing dozens of empty rooms until Aihara Na stopped at one, completely nondescript.

  “It is not The Emperor’s Quilt, but it should do,” she said.

  “It is lovely,” Sora said as the door opened, and she meant it. The room had a window, and even though it was little more than an arrowslit carved into the stone, it was a vast improvement over Wetzel’s basement where she’d grown up or even her bed on Gold Grin’s ship. There was a bed as well, instead of a pile of hay, and it looked comfortable enough.

  “What’s through that door?” Sora asked.

  “A space for you to take a bath and clear your mind. The Glassman see no value in a clean soul, but you’re in Panping now. We can finish the tour after supper if you’d prefer. It has been a trying day.”

  Aquira flapped her wings and soared toward the large, plush bed. She turned a few circles, then curled up and closed her eyes.

  “No,” Sora said, not wanting to waste any more time. Whitney had been trapped in Elsewhere with Kazimir for long enough. She didn’t deserve rest yet. “Let’s continue.”

  “As you wish.”

  Aihara continued to lead her down the stairs.

  “How will I know how to get back to my chambers?” Sora asked.

  “It will not be difficult.”

  Sora realized she would need to get used to terse responses from everyone in this strange place. Living such a secluded life had clearly left them cold. Sora could understand that. Being cooped up with Wetzel every day gave her a tendency to be short with him as well.

  “You will do most of your training here,” Aihara said, stopping at a floor a long way down containing a single, rectangular room that was far too large to fit within the tower. The walls, ceiling, floor; everything was white.

  “How can—”

  “We don’t rebuild the world,” Aihara responded before Sora could finish. “We are now beneath the waters.” She gestured to the walls, emphasizing the size of the room. “Madam Neelangam Jayasin will handle much of your teaching.”

  Sora hadn’t even noticed the yellow-robed woman seated in the middle of the room, one of the seven remaining mystics. Seeing her there brought a sense of wonder at the immensity of the place. It was bigger than any room she’d ever been in, except maybe the Throne Room in the Glass Castle.

  The woman rose and joined them by the entrance to the room. She bowed, and said, “Greetings Sora. You may call me Madam Jaya.”

  “Madam Jaya,” Sora said and returned the bow.

  “It is a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.”

  “When will she be starting?” Madam Jaya asked Aihara Na.

  “First thing in the morning,” Aihara Na replied. “Time is always of the essence. Are things prepared?”

  “As they’ll ever be.”

  “Excellent,” Aihara said with a bow. “We will see you at supper.”

  Their next stop was just a few floors down, but at the end of the stairwell, the bottommost level. A large pair of stone doors stood before them, the image of a lush tree carved onto them and glowing blue.

  “Beyond those doors is something few have ever seen,” Aihara Na said. “Power beyond fathoming. Are you ready?”

  Sora nodded.

  Aihara Na had been locked up for a long time, but Sora was sure nothing could be worse than facing Queen Bliss or Afhem Muskigo’s army. The mystic waved her hand, muttered under her breath, and the doors opened.

  Bright blue light poured out, forcing Sora to raise her hand to shield her eyes.

  “Come,” Aihara said, walking forward.

  “What is it?” Sora said, wonder filling her every fiber. A pool of blue liquid bubbled within, steam rising from it. Inside the fluid, floating on the surface, were hundreds of flower petals.

  “This is the Well of Wisdom.” She led Sora to its edge. “This place is the beginning and end of all of our journeys.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Everything and nothing. Everything for the one who truly desires its gifts, but nothing for him who thinks it a weapon.”

  Another cryptic response.

  “I see that answer doesn’t satisfy you?” Aihara Na said.

  “How could it?”

  “As you’ll see, there are no books in this tower. We have no library of records like kings keep locked away. The Well of Wisdom contains the collective memories of our Order since the first Mystic Council and visions of those who’ve looked beyond. It is here we learned you would return to us after the passing of poor Tayvada Bokeo, that you would be one blessed enough by the Gift to help us rebuild our fractured Order. The one with the Will of Fire.”

  “You wish to use me?”

  “Is a blade demeaned by it being used to draw blood? To be used for that which you were created is a gift from the gods. Tayvada accepted his fate long before you knew of your power.”

  “You knew so long, but didn’t save him?”

  “For all our power, we cannot control fate. He is an example of what can happen when one accepts who they are. He lived life to the fullest, knowing the end was imminent, and helped so many of our people abroad, as you have seen.”

  Sora’s lip twisted. He died a hero to them, she thought, but couldn’t manage to say out loud.

  “When you are done with your training—and only when you are done—you will enter and see what the gods would like you to see,” Aihara Na said.

  The liquid looked as if it would burn Sora alive, bubbling as it was. She couldn’t imagine going into the pool and found herself glad it would be a matter for another day.

  “Are you hungry?” Aihara Na asked, abruptly. “I apologize, it has been a long while, and I sometimes forget what hunger is like.”

  Sora nodded.

  Aihara Na guided her back up to one of the ground levels where many Panpingese men and women gathered in brown and gray hooded robes. Sora couldn’t help but remember Redstar’s cultist haven in that dwarven ruin south of Oxgate.

  “
Who are all these people? Trainees as well?” Sora asked.

  “Servants.”

  The word didn’t sit well in Sora’s belly, like foul food curdling in the acids. “Slaves,” she muttered, thinking about Winde Port and the Ghetto, about Darkings and his 'servants.'

  “Willing servants,” Aihara corrected.

  “I hope so.”

  “Many wish to see the return of the mystics as a governing power within the Panping Region; those who are not so blessed with the Gift as you will take decades to see it manifest within them. They have chosen to hide in this place with us and serve our wills, never to leave unless commanded to. Lord Bokeo is among them, and his late son.” Aihara stepped toward Sora. “I know you do not yet trust us.”

  “You were going to kill a boy just to test me,” Sora retorted before she could help herself. “Now you force people to stay locked in here?” The thought of Tayvada dying for their vision had her frustrated. A handful of servants within earshot spun, now staring at the two.

  Aihara’s hand lashed out, slapping hard against Sora’s face. Sora pawed at her cheek, not sure how the mystic had suddenly become corporeal again.

  “You may not yet understand our ways and methods, but you will not question them here,” Aihara Na said sternly, anger contorting her features. She glared around the room, and the servants turned away. “We are, you are, this place is so much bigger than some poor street urchin roaming around Yaolin City. You have looked upon the Well of Wisdom, seen beyond our veil. You are an apprentice of the Mystic Order now, and while you are here training, you will keep your opinions to yourself. Is that understood?”

  Sora expected to feel Elsewhere rising inside of her, but she felt nothing. She just narrowed her eyes, staring into Aihara’s.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes, Ancient One,” Aihara prompted. “I am your master now.”

  “Yes, Ancient One,” Sora said through gritted teeth.

  “Understand that I have known lifetimes worth of opinions. I have seen things you could not possibly imagine. When I am passed, and you sit upon the council, then, and only then, will your opinions on this world matter. And when that time comes, I am certain you will see the world as we do.”