Destiny's Blood (The First Star Book 1)

by Marie Bilodeau

  Dunkat clenched his jaw, turned around and punched the view screen. The skin of his knuckles broke and blood trickled on the screen. He kept his fist there, breathing deeply. Droplets of cold sweat ran down his back.

  Noro was already gone, he knew, satisfied that he had crushed him. He looked at the blood on his own knuckles — his blood, his father’s blood. It bore a hero’s name, which was his own. Following the blood’s dripping trail led him to the sight of one of the Mirial ships. It was small, worn, and dead in space.

  He lowered his fist and straightened his shirt. The ship was just outside their energy shields, blue flickers bouncing off of it.

  It was a useless relic to any man but one hunting the past.

  The air shimmered around them and coated them, the Victory gliding effortlessly through the sky. Yoma remained in the captain’s chair and Gobran held onto the back of it protectively, as though he feared Yoma might fall or vanish. Now no longer worried about her sister, Yoma found she could relax and enjoy the comfort of the Victory and Gobran’s company.

  She swore he smelled of old maps, the dust on his jacket reminding her of the thousands of old parchments he had meticulously kept.

  “What about your maps, Captain?” Yoma asked him. It was good to hear some sound, even if it was only her own voice.

  “Those maps were nice, but I have so many more on Mirial, Lady.” His eyes twinkled with such excitement that she didn’t even bother telling him again to call her Yoma. “On Mirial, I had the oldest maps, the rarest and the most accurate, plotting much, much farther than even Solari has, and maps showing Mirial as perceived through various worlds.”

  His excitement was contagious and Yoma found herself smiling at him and sitting straighter. She wondered why he believed his maps would even still be in one piece, or why the planet named after its sun would still exist, but she held her tongue. If nothing else, her own visions showed her that something yet lived near the doomed star.

  The captain continued, gesturing widely as he described various maps, materials and mythologies. “I even have one that shows the journeys of the ether creatures. There’s the Lorpas—which actually continue to live, despite popular belief, but they’re very shy; and the Kilita, a nasty little folk, really. And my most beautiful one spans four entire walls in a very large room, and shows where the Berganda have dwelt and dwell still, and the impact they have on the plants around them.”

  Yoma smiled at the mention of the Berganda, thinking of Josmere, picturing her friend’s quick smile. She could smell sap. Why could she smell sap on a ship? She looked around her, her smile fading, and Gobran wavered in her vision as she rose to her feet.

  “Can you smell that?” She looked around the bridge and under stations. The crewmembers moved away in advance of her as if she were royalty, or insane.

  “Smell what, Lady?”

  “Plants. All cut and bleeding…” She paused and looked down, gasping to see Josmere sprawled on the floor beside her. She knelt down, unable to touch her friend or the green that bled out all around her.

  “Josmere!” she cried, patting the floor. She knew the Berganda was not actually there, but she was unable to stop herself. So much blood! The eyes were dull and open, the skin yellow, the hair withered around her head…

  “Josmere!” she screamed. Gobran was pulling her back, but she needed to hold her, to save her friend. Josmere had only been wounded because Yoma had wanted her to help her sister.

  “No!” she screamed. She kicked, elbowed and kneed, and was rewarded by shouts of pain. She was tackled down, could hear Gobran shouting at her to be still, could hear him shouting at others to be gentle, and then she could only hear her own screams. “Josmere!”

  She was on her belly on the floor, beside her vision of Josmere’s corpse. The stench of sap attacked her nose; the blood, so thick and cold, oozed toward her until it covered the side of her face and clung to her hair. She tasted its bitterness in her mouth.

  Tears erupted, mixing with the blood, and Josmere’s glassy eyes looked at her. Josmere’s dry, dead lips moved: “Be strong, Layela.”

  Yoma felt herself snap. “Nooooo!” She managed to throw three crewmembers off of her as she stood, looking toward the heart of the nebula — toward Mirial, where her soul ached to be. She pleaded with all of her heart, with all of her sins and heroics. She pleaded that her friend be saved, and offered to pay the price. She pleaded that they be allowed to meet once more.

  “Please,” she whispered, exhausted. The faint light of Mirial seemed to flicker and grow. Gobran was beside her in an instant.

  “Lady...” His voice shook as he held her, and she looked down. Josmere was gone, the vision ended, yet it continued to clutch her soul. The side of her face still felt sticky with Josmere’s blood. Her hair felt weighed down by its thickness. Her nose was still filled with the smell of death.

  “Captain, something’s happening.” Loran reported. The sky filled with light and a deep wail crossed through Yoma and caressed her soul. “The nebula — I mean, the shields of Mirial...They’re expanding!”

  The ship rocked gently and Yoma smiled.

  Mirial had heard her daughter and granted her wish.

  “What’s that?” Avienne asked from her station as she looked towards the nebula, the lights that danced at its edges shimmering brighter and turning faster, as though the entire beast was twirling.

  ...28 seconds to impact...

  “Death,” Lang replied simply. He swigged the remaining liquid in his flask and threw it away in disgust.

  “It’s Mirial,” Cailan whispered. The faint light of his home shimmered in his eyes.

  Another hit rocked the Destiny, but Avienne couldn’t pull her eyes away from the nebula. The sun throbbed with a different light, as if it was pushing against its previous boundaries.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  It’s home. Her eyes warmed with tears.

  “It’s expanding!” Ardin shouted in surprise. As Avienne watched, Mirial vanished within the glow, its shields pushing outward until they swallowed the few ships before the Destiny. She held her breath. The Solari ships went dark. Their hulls cracked and the oxygen escaped, and some of their crewmembers were sucked out into space — Avienne could see them as small, bright specks of dead weight floating away. The ships of the dwindling Mirial fleet seemed unaffected as they were swallowed by the purple beast; they only vanished into the purple, while the Solari ships died.

  The nebula’s light approached slowly, like a bride walking down the aisle. Destiny was helpless to get out of her way. As it washed over them, it rocked Destiny gently sideways, as a mother soothing a crying child.

  Purple was all they could see. Mirial and the other ships had all vanished from view.

  Destiny’s lights flickered, responding to Mirial’s caress.

  “Torpedoes were destroyed!” Avienne cried joyfully.

  Cailan sat quietly in his chair, looking at the purple around them as though poised for what came next. Avienne’s panel flared to life.

  “Distress calls, Captain,” she whispered. “From the farming communities. The nebula, it’s not stopping.”

  “We have some power back. We could get to them, maybe,” Ardin said, his voice thin and hesitant.

  The distress calls ended abruptly, and Avienne frowned. “Our systems are still up, I don’t understand…” A glance down at her instruments stopped her. The planets had been as easily destroyed as the Solari ships.

  “Blood and bones,” she whispered and fell back in her chair, unable to tear her eyes away from the purple beast. It had swallowed them, killed thousands, but also saved them.

  “Blood and bones.”

  “I’m fine, really.” Josmere smiled at Layela from Zortan’s arms. He carried her as though she weighed nothing. “In fact, I feel quite giddy to be carried by such a handsome gentleman.” She smiled coyly at Zortan, who ignored her.

  “Stop making fun of the man who saved our lives, Jo
smere,” Layela scolded, but she smiled. Zortan ignored her as well, his dark eyes focused ahead. Layela lighted the way with Zortan’s flashlight. If Josmere felt good enough to joke, then perhaps the wound wasn’t that bad. She wished she knew more about Berganda physiology. In all their years of friendship, Layela had never needed to tend to the Berganda’s wounds.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” Josmere asked.

  “The shuttle bay,” Zortan replied.

  “Why?” Layela turned to him, flashing the light in his face.

  He stopped, but didn’t turn away. “The Destiny is too wounded to go on. She’s taken bad hits, her engines have stopped, and her armour, as strong as it is, will eventually fail. We need to leave and cross Mirial’s shield.”

  “But, we can’t just leave everyone else!”

  “If Captain Cailan can get his crew out, he will. In the meantime, we have to reach your sister, Layela. Gobran was right about one thing: the powers of Mirial must be complete to be restored. If not in one body, then in two, but they must both be together.”

  “I don’t know what he’s telling you,” Josmere said drowsily from his arms. “But I don’t think it’s couth.”

  Zortan sighed. “You have to be with your sister on Mirial, or she’s just as likely to get herself killed.”

  Layela nodded and shined the light back down the corridor. They resumed walking. She felt cold and numb, and she wished she could make sure the rest of the crew was escaping safely. She thought of Ardin knocking on her door — Ardin, who thought she was long gone from this ship and out of reach — and she wished he was here now, with her.

  The ship rocked sideways, sending them crashing into the wall. The lights flickered back to life, blinding Layela, and Josmere began to scream, a wail so loud it felt as though a blade had pierced Layela’s ears. She forced her aching eyes to face the light and saw Zortan kneeling by the Berganda. Josmere screamed, not stopping for air, her eyes wide open and her arms clutching herself.

  Layela feared the wound had reopened, but no fresh blood covered her friend. Josmere jerked, and her ungloved hand grabbed Layela, who reeled back as their minds connected. She was assaulted by deep, impenetrable silence. Layela knew she should be hearing a song through Josmere, and now it trickled towards her from Josmere’s memory: the cry of thousands of sentient Booknots begging to be rescued, and the silence that followed.

  The Berganda, through careful love, had brought sentience to the Booknots generations ago, and the rare plant had kept the Berganda company as their race withered. Their death was the source of her grief.

  Josmere’s emotions assaulted Layela, and she saw Josmere’s memories flash before her like exploding light bulbs. Her sprouting, the death of her aunts, leaving home to find good earth, finding no more Berganda, meeting the twins and finding comfort in others with powers and no home, bleeding into the earth...and now, the blood quiet where a song should have existed.

  Silence. Silence, and Josmere’s screams, now turning to broken sobs as she heaved for air. Layela kept her hand on Josmere, forcing herself to bear some of the pain. She cradled the small, broken body, wondering how much more hurt her friend could take before the road proved to be too long.

  29

  The Destiny moaned and shrieked from somewhere deep below, a howl that carried through her cracking metal to batter the ears of her crew. For an instant, no one moved. Then Cailan looked at his station, and the old captain straightened his shoulders and turned to address his two protégés and Lang.

  “The hull is buckling,” he said. Avienne’s blood turned to ice and Ardin jumped to his feet. Cailan put up his hands. “She’ll still make it, but we’ll have to close most sections and preserve power by lowering life support functions.”

  He looked at each of them. “I want you all off this ship. I’ll take her in myself.”

  The reaction was immediate. Avienne bounced to her feet as Ardin objected. “We are not leaving you.”

  “You and Avienne can fly the shuttles out. You’re leaving.”

  “We’re staying with you.” Avienne answered this time, narrowing her eyes.

  “You have to get Josmere out of here. She’s wounded, remember? Go to the shuttle bay and evacuate.”

  “Avienne can take her,” Ardin said.

  “I am not leaving you, Ardin Malavant!” She forced the tremor out of her voice. “I did not leave you before and I will not leave you now!”

  “You have to take Josmere out of here,” Ardin began, turning to face her instead.

  “You are both taking Josmere, Lang, and the rest of the crew out. This isn’t up for debate. It’s an order.”

  Lang mumbled from his station and shook his head, scanning the data on his display. The siblings and the captain ignored him, still intent on their face-off.

  Cailan sighed and put a hand on each of their shoulders. It was the closest thing to an embrace Avienne could ever remember receiving from him, and her shoulder squared under the weight of it.

  “The engines will carry the Destiny home to Mirial. There’s no need for this.” He gave them a half-smile. “You should worry more about yourselves. I don’t know what awaits you on Mirial, but I doubt it will be extremely pleasant. That’s why I want both of you to go.” He squeezed their shoulders gently. “You’ll look after each other on Mirial. It’s what you’ve always done, and what you need to do now.”

  His hand slipped away and Avienne’s shoulders dropped. She knew Ardin’s had, as well.

  “Let’s head to the shuttle bay. Avienne, sound the evacuation and alert all crew.”

  Avienne headed to her station, each step slower than the last. The deck went quiet as Lang ended his mumblings and Destiny’s great belly sighed.

  “All hands are ordered to the shuttle bay for evacuation,” Avienne’s voice boomed over the creaking of the ship. “And since we don’t evacuate unless necessary, and it never has been before, I don’t need to tell you to move it. What? Oh, coming...” She paused, then added quickly, “To the shuttle bay, now!”

  Her voice died away just as Layela stepped into the shuttle bay.

  “Looks like we’re not the only ones with this idea,” Josmere mumbled from Zortan’s arms. Layela smiled at her friend, but had to look away from her yellowed skin, her browning hair, the already ill-fitting clothes. Her entire body seemed to be melting away.

  “Let’s get them ready,” Zortan said. He gently placed the Berganda on the floor of the shuttle bay, leaning against the same control station where Josmere had overpowered the drunk Lang. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Layela felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she sat at the console, hitting the right buttons and flipping the switches necessary to power up the shuttle, as Josmere had taught her. Yet, everything was different without Josmere beside her, joking and laughing.

  “I thought you were gone.” Jaru entered with two other crewmembers. “Well, I guess you’re not, since you’re here, but still. It’s odd that you’re here.”

  The shuttle bay opened again and Avienne’s laughter collided with the stern silence of the room. Ardin mumbled something and the siblings shared a chuckle. Layela could hear them approach as she returned to Josmere’s side, and then she finally saw them from where she knelt by her friend. Ardin saw her first, his eyes growing wide for an instant as though not understanding. Then his brow furrowed and, before Layela could say anything, Avienne was rushing towards them.

  “What happened to you?” Avienne asked, her wide eyes searching Josmere’s.

  Josmere managed a small grin. “Getting slow in my old age.”

  Avienne pulled her coat off and laid it gently on the Berganda, eyeing the wound on her stomach. Layela saw what Avienne did — a constant trickle of bubbling green blood, as though Josmere was deflating.

  “You’re not really going to let a little wound like that get to you?” Avienne asked with a lift of an eyebrow. Josmere gave her a strained smile, but her reply was stolen as a spasm shook her body. A small sob escaped
her lips, but when it was over, she was smiling again.

  “I’d hate to miss out on the fun.”

  Avienne grinned. “It’d be less fun without you.” She squeezed the Berganda’s shoulder and paused as though she wanted to say more, but remained silent. Her eyes caught Layela’s for an instant and then she stood up and walked towards the shuttles.

  “I thought you were on the Victory,” Ardin said. He remained standing, observing her and Josmere.

  Layela whispered a reply. “That was my sister.”

  Ardin looked down at her for a moment longer, then simply nodded and knelt by Josmere.

  “Let’s get you on a shuttle,” Ardin said. He lifted her easily, surprise flickering in his eyes at how light she had become.

  “My hero,” Josmere whispered. She leaned her head against Ardin’s shoulder, too tired to hold herself up. “I like this one, Layela.” She ended with a slight grin, eyes closed tightly.

  “I’m not leaving her side,” Layela heard Zortan say. She squeezed Josmere’s hand and left her in Ardin’s care.

  “There’s only enough air for three in each shuttle, and only three shuttles are left,” Cailan said, turning to Jaru. “And why are you still here? Go now, or I will blow you out an airlock!”

  Jaru nodded and began turning before taking a pause and facing him, his hand coming up to his forehead in salute. “It’s been an honour, Captain.”

  He turned and dragged the other two crewmen to the shuttle before Cailan could respond, but he whispered loud enough for them to hear, “The honour was all mine.”

  Layela thought they stood straighter as the shuttle doors closed, and then the small ship was rolled to the exit bay. They were gone.