Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1)

by Jackson Simiana

  “A message from Ser Jyra Leona in Dawnhill. There was an incident… a Caldaean trading ship crashed into the docks at Crown Bay. Thirty dead, at least.”

  Sirillia gasped with her hand to her chest. Baron Artima sat silently, listening intently yet emotionlessly.

  Emery threw the letter aside. “Crown Bay has been closed off to Caldaean ships for the foreseeable future.”

  “What?” Sirillia said. “We can’t do that, Emery, that is far too harsh a reaction. It will shatter the city’s economy.”

  “Do we know if this attack was deliberate?” Artima said.

  Emery shook his head. The letter contained no such information, and it would be difficult to ascertain whether the incident was intentionally committed by Caldaea or the Seynards.

  “Caldaea relies on commerce with us more than we do with them,” Emilia said. “Ser Jyra made a good call to close off the city. However, I fear for how this may affect Fentis and Veridia.”

  “Forgive me, baroness, but an enormous proportion of our peasantry make their living with trade to Caldaea. Half of Dawnhill’s labourers work for clients in Andervale!” Sirillia said.

  “I’m sure this will only be temporary, until we work what really happened in Crown Bay,” Emery said, trying to keep his wife from fretting. “Ser Jyra was left in charge, and he had to act in the city’s interest.”

  Emilia huffed. “Fentis is renowned for its craftsmen and jewellers, of which the highborns of Caldaea rely upon for their luxuries. I pray to the Creator that this will not affect our business dealings either.”

  Baron Artima rolled his eyes. “Yes, baroness, we all know how prized your city’s exports are. It would be a shame for you to miss out on all those profitable tariffs.”

  Baroness Emilia waved her hand, brushing the man’s insult aside. “I am merely concerned for my people, Artima.”

  “What concerns me most is that ship in Dawnhill. What if Ser Jyra is correct in assuming it is some sort of attack on the kingdom?” His suspicious mind was beginning to shine through.

  Sirillia shook her head. “Are you really suggesting that the Seynards orchestrated an attack on our sovereignty?”

  “Why not? Who stands to gain most from this occurrence? Perhaps they anticipated Dawnhill’s reaction and will use it as an excuse to react in their own way. What better way to claim provocation than by shifting the foundation of an entire kingdom’s economy in a single day?”

  “That’s preposterous, and you know it, Artima,” Emilia said with a snicker. “Your distrust of the Seynards is clouding your judgement.”

  “My distrust for the Seynards is warranted after what they did to our prince,” the Old Bear spat.

  Emery took the second letter, still sealed in its original envelope, and addressed to Emery Blacktree himself.

  More dire news?

  “It’s from Tobius Seynard,” he said, skimming the text. “He is requesting an armistice with us in ten days at the town of Tellersted, on the border between our kingdoms.”

  Baron Artima smirked. “Does that man take us for fools? It is clearly some sort of rouse, my king. First this attack on the capital, and now this.”

  Ser Yelin look to his king, nodding with Artima. “I believe the baron is right, my king. It is risky. It could very well be a trap.”

  Baroness Emilia was not so sure. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions here, my king. Perhaps the man simply wants to make amends on behalf of his family. We didn’t exactly leave Andervale on the best of terms, after all.”

  “Agreeing to an armistice is a dangerous move, my king. I ultimately cannot guarantee your safety,” Ser Yelin pointed out.

  “And let us not forget,” Sirillia said, “they still have our daughter. The last thing we want is to turn her into a political hostage amongst all of this.”

  Emery scrunched up his face as he weighed up the options. He did not want to risk another war with Caldaea. Both kingdoms had suffered immensely by the border conflict. He did not want to be responsible for the deaths of countless more boys and men and the starving of women and children.

  But what could he do, other than to agree to the armistice? Ciana was being held in Andervale against her will. Jodie Blacktree had disappeared after the tournament. Petir had been severely injured, nearly killed.

  Emery saw no other sound option.

  “The Seynards have to be brought to justice, one way or another, for their reckless and destructive actions to our family and the kingdom,” Emery said.

  Sirillia lowered her head in vain. “Has nobody taken a second to even think about Ciana in all of this? She will be the first to die if a conflict arises!”

  “I don’t think Ciana is in any immediate danger, my love. She has value to the Seynards. Without her, they have no bargaining chip, and no claim of relation with the Blacktree line.”

  “The princess is their most valuable possession, my queen,” Emilia said.

  Baron Artima twirled his moustache with his forefinger and thumb. “Might I suggest an alternative?”

  Emery nodded. “You may.”

  “We play along. We attend the armistice, but we bring with us some… help.” Artima leant forward as he spoke, like a proud schemer.

  “Help?” Baroness Emilia said.

  Artima nodded. “Tellersted is only two days’ hard march from Veridia, three from Dawnhill. I can have men meet us at Tellersted to act as insurance, and I’m sure there are plenty of men in Dawnhill who could fight if they needed to.”

  Sirillia was shocked. “What you are suggesting could lead to war!”

  “Or it could be exactly what we need to prevent one,” Emery said. His guests and wife glanced over to him. “Having an army with us would both guarantee our safety and be a show of force to Tobius Seynard. We will tell him to send Ciana back unharmed, lest there be severe consequences. It may be the stone that will cause the tower collapse, Sirillia.”

  He spoke to everyone in the room, but most importantly he needed to have his wife on his side.

  Ser Yelin, Artima and Emilia all appeared pleased with their liege’s suggestion. Sirillia, however, was not entirely convinced. Emery could see that she was playing out all sorts of possible scenarios on her head behind those glassy, grey eyes.

  Emery stood from his seat, tall and assured. He looked to Ser Yelin and Baron Artima. “Call the banners.”

  Artima made a closed fist, while Ser Yelin bowed to his king.

  “I want a thousand men brought over from Dawnhill armed to the teeth and ready for battle. Have the captains in the city guard lead them,” Emery said.

  “At once, my king,” Ser Yelin said, before racing off out of the tent to find a messenger and their hawk.

  “Lowe,” Emery said, walking over to the baron’s side. “Find me another thousand, if you can.”

  “It will be done, my king,” Baron Artima replied, shaking the king’s hand, and standing up to leave. “You will not be disappointed.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “How can I be of service, my king?” Baroness Emilia asked.

  “Head back home to Fentis. Prepare any troops that you can muster up and wait on standby for any word from me. You will be our insurance for if things go sour.”

  “Yes, my king.” Emilia Erma exited the pavilion, her flowing dress blowing like a curtain in the wind.

  Emery held Sirillia’s shoulders as tears began streaming from her eyes. The intense pressure of their situation was eating her away like a parasite. Slowly, insidiously.

  Petir nearly lost his life, and Emery would be lying if he did not suspect that Ciana could be in a tremendous amount of danger.

  But he saw no other path forward than this.

  Sirillia remained seated, expressionless, and motionless. Only crying to herself and taking short, sharp breathes.

  Emery rubbed his wife’s shoulders tenderly. “Sirillia,” he said. “I need you to do something for me. It will be incredibly difficult for you, but this plan of
ours will not succeed without your help.”

  Sirillia did not utter a word, still paralysed by the fear. She only nodded.

  Emery kissed her cheek and spoke into her ear. “I need you to trust me, my love. Trust me. This will not work without it.”

  Chapter 30 - Decimation

  “We are almost there, surely. We have to be,” Landry said to Tomas, trying to keep his spirits up. His coat was dusted white with snow, his eyebrows full of ice crystals.

  Gharland’s company had trudged through the snow all night and day, climbing the narrow path up Mooncrest Mountain.

  Taking the northeast path had been the correct approach. The group came upon the beginning of the path up the mountain soon after. The path itself was little more than an old shepherd’s track of worn earth and a sludge of semi-solid snow and dirt. A few steps of wood had been laid on the steeper parts.

  To their right side were the sheer, near-vertical cliffs of the mountain. An impenetrable wall of rugged stone. Only several feet to the left, in some areas, were the crumbling edges to a long drop down. They made sure to keep close to one-another, and as far away from the edge as possible.

  Tomas’s wrists remained chained, chafing at his skin. Gharland had let him remove the ankle chains though to help with the ascent, for which he was thankful.

  But something about the cold made Tomas’s bones ache and joints stiffen. It was an inescapable, dangerous chill that Tomas was longing to find relief from. It seemed to eat through their clothing and scratch on their exposed flesh.

  The higher they ascended, the icier it became.

  Tomas followed at the rear of the group like a defeated prisoner of war. Each time he’d stumble from exhaustion, Landry was at his side to help him up somehow.

  Smiling John had collapsed a few times from the pain of his burns. Gharland had threatened to leave him in the dirt if he kept slowing them down. The others weren’t going to wait for stragglers, Tomas knew, let alone one who had attempted to kill one of their own. Even Gharland didn’t seem to care much about Tomas’s wellbeing anymore now that they were close to their mission objective.

  But Landry had always been there to make sure Tomas didn’t drop into a grave within the snow.

  “Creator, look. There it is,” Landry said suddenly to Tomas over the howl of the bitter wind. Tomas had kept his eyes down on his boots for most of the journey but made this exception to follow Landry’s finger to where he was pointing.

  Through the mist and clouds, the vast glass dome of the Grand Repository’s roof jutted out from above a ridgeline ahead of them.

  Evening was fast approaching, and the group struggled to keep their torches lit in the strong winds. Ixo’s broken pieces illuminated a cool white glow from the sky. As soon as they had spotted the glass dome, their pace quickened.

  An escape from the cold was finally within sight.

  The squad followed the path over the ridge and were taken aback by the sheer awe of the view before them.

  The walls of the Grand Repository had been cut and constructed from the black rock in the very mountainside, rising at least ten storeys high.

  But it was the magnitude of the glass dome sitting atop the enormous structure which was the most spectacular thing. It rose hundreds of feet into the sky, glistening and shimmering like water in the moonlight.

  “And there I was, telling you about how enormous the buildings are in Shadowshore,” Landry said to Tomas. His face was like that of an excited child.

  “I have to admit,” Tomas said, “it’s pretty amazing.”

  Gharland led his soldiers down the other side of the ridge, through the thickening snow towards the entrance of the Repository.

  On either side of the ten-foot-tall doors stood two menacing sculpture of hooded figures, their faces swallowed in shadow. Their hands were outstretched, each statue holding open a book.

  Gharland turned to face his squad and nodded to them in a gesture of gratitude. They had finally made it. Tomas was sure he had seen the hint of a smile on the rugged man’s face.

  Gharland stuck his torch into the snow beside the group and went to push against the enormous doors, but they remained closed. He tried again, putting his body weight into it but still the doors wouldn’t budge. A few soldiers helped him push, but to no avail.

  “They must still have the place barricaded,” Gharland said.

  He raised a gloved fist, knocking three times upon the metal doors.

  Boom boom boom.

  They waited but heard nothing in reply. Besides the gusting wind, the mountain seemed silent.

  Tomas rubbed his hands against his upper arms, trying to warm himself as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared. Then, through the fog, he saw it- what appeared to be a shadowy hollow in the side wall of the structure some ways down.

  Tomas took a few steps towards it to get a better look. It was what he suspected- a hole in the wall itself, where the stone had been shattered and pushed inwards.

  “Captain,” Tomas called out, pointing. “Look at that.”

  Gharland picked his torch back up and made his way over to where Tomas had moved. The others followed, unsure.

  With his torch out before him lighting the way, Gharland carefully approached the hole. It was larger than a man, as if a charging horse and carriage had ploughed through the very wall without stopping.

  “What the fuck is that?” Styna shouted. Tomas could smell his rotten breath from several steps away.

  Gharland drew his sword and shut the visor on his helmet. “Akurai,” he said. “Draw your weapons and follow me.”

  The soldiers took out their swords and knives, nervously gathering around Gharland. Landry placed an arrow against the string of his bow. Tomas gulped upon realising he was unarmed.

  “Ser,” Tomas said, presenting his shackles. “I’ll be worse than useless with these on.”

  Gharland brooded for a moment before pulling the key from his side and handing it to Landry to unchain Tomas.

  “Any funny business and I’ll kill you myself, got it?”

  The shackles and chain dropped into the snow like a deadweight. Tomas rubbed his wrists, grateful to be finally free of his painful restraints. He was, however, still unarmed, but did not want to push his luck any further by asking for a weapon.

  Tomas stuck to the back of the group as they entered the hole in the outer wall of the Repository. Gharland went first, sword in one hand and a flaming torch in the other, lighting up the way with a fiery orange glow.

  They went into a dark corridor to the side of the main entrance foyer, lit only by their torches. There was no natural light penetrating through, and no candles from within.

  The echoes of the howling wind boomed down the hallway like a ghostly call. Snow blew in through the hole in the wall and broken stones lay strewn across the tiled floor.

  The wall was thick. Whatever broke through it was powerful.

  “Stick with me,” Landry whispered to Tomas. “Don’t go out of my sight.”

  Tomas nodded, patting Landry on the shoulder and standing close to his side.

  The squad slowly paced down the long corridor towards the foyer. The main doors were indeed barricaded with an assortment of wooden benches, crates, planters, and marble plinths.

  Whatever the Magisters could find, by the looks of it, was used to create an impromptu reinforcement.

  “Should there be someone here to greet us?” Landry asked his captain.

  Gharland remained silent, looking around for any sort of clue. “Let’s move in. Stick together but keep two paces between each of you. If we need to fight, we don’t want to be bunched up like cows for a slaughter.”

  The phrase triggered a memory for Tomas. A dark memory.

  A dozen lambs, all huddled together in panic.

  His father and a huge cleaver.

  The fear in their innocent eyes.

  It made him shudder.

  Gharland and the rest of the group pushed deeper into the Repos
itory. Tomas could feel the tension around them like a thick, suffocating presence. The hairs on his arms and neck stood tall, and his skin prickled with bumps.

  The torches cast long, unnatural shadows down the undecorated stone corridor like ghostly spectres. The interior was devoid of all colour.

  Each step the men took further only heightened their fear. Every alcove and corner along the corridor could hold a Akurai soldier, or Creator-forbid, one of those beasts that slaughtered half their squad.

  Doorways on their left and right led to dormitory rooms, storage spaces and meeting areas. Most of the doors had been left ajar, and each room was deserted and shrouded in darkness.

  Some rooms looked as though they had been partially barricaded. The reinforcements, however, were smashed through and destroyed. Splintered wood, broken porcelain and shattered stone surrounded the piles of damaged debris.

  Who had done this? What had done this?

  Finally, they reached another set of large doors at the end of the corridor. Gharland pushed them open, sword pointing outwards, ready for anything. The men were hit in the face with a blast of cold air and a white light from above. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust.

  Tomas shielded his eyes with his hand, only to lower it and marvel at the enormous domed ceiling of glass rising hundreds of feet above them. Moonlight shone from high above, raining down heavenly white light.

  The red star with its long, flaming tail appeared red-hot and larger in the sky than the last time Tomas had seen it.

  The door from the hallway had led to the inner part of the Repository, a grand, circular sanctum filled with long rows of bookshelves and desks which spanned so far that they disappeared into the darkness.

  Tomas heard some of the men’s breaths taken away upon seeing the inner structure of the Repository. Never had he seen as many books in one place. It must have been thousands of them. Tens-of-thousands.

  It was truly marvellous, yet Tomas could not find it within him to even admire it. All he could focus on was whether they were alone in the ghostly, maze-like space.

  Tomas noted that a section of the glass dome above was broken. The glass had been smashed and the metal frames twisted, leaving a gaping hole of jagged edges from which snow was slowly raining down like an elegant white shower of rain.