Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1)

by Jackson Simiana

  Several children were huddled together under blankets, sniffling, and crying. Where were their parents? Grata did not want to guess.

  Grata squeezed her way through towards the railing on the side of the deck and put her son down onto his feet. He refused to let go of her, clinging with one hand onto her jacket.

  Grata leant out over the railing to look at the raging sea below. She had been right before- the sea was red, sloshing around thicker than normal water.

  Is that… blood? How can this be?

  She was sure that her mind was playing tricks on her. Surely, it must have been the terror of their predicament causing her to see things.

  People on deck began to shout and cry with worry.

  “Mama, look,” Kasda said, tugging her jacket.

  Grata spun around to see everyone pointing and staring out at the sky towards the eastern horizon.

  Her mouth dropped in shock.

  Dozens of fiery veins were streaking diagonally across the blackness of the far away night sky. The fireballs were of varying sizes; most were small, but some appeared huge.

  They flew slowly across the sky but were noticeably heading for the line of the horizon’s end.

  The townspeople muttered nervously amongst themselves. Some let out shrieks of horror.

  “It’s beginning!” someone shouted. “It’s the Ruin!”

  “We must leave, at once! Take us!” another cried.

  “Diosa, help us!”

  Within a few moments, a widespread panic had set in. Those still on the pier had seen the distant streaks of flame in the sky and had decided to take their chances by charging forward towards the remaining ships.

  A guardsman shouted as he ran for the helm, “take off, now!” Other guards began to reel in the anchor and release the sails.

  Several terrified people began leaping from the edge of the pier onto the sides of the ships. Most could not get a hold on anything as the curved sides of the wooden hull were smooth, but some were lucky enough to grab the very edges.

  Upon seeing this, more and more desperate people jumped for the ships. A few even tossed their children. Anything to get them to safety.

  The ship that Grata and Kasda had boarded suddenly lurched as the anchor was reeled onboard. It slowly began to move away from the pier’s edge.

  One man took the chance and leapt, somehow catching his hand on the very edge of the hull right beside Grata.

  “Stay down,” Grata said to Kasda, worried for his safety. She then leant out over the side of the railing, reaching her arm out towards the hanging man.

  “Take my hand,” she called, using her other hand to hold on as tight as she could.

  The man looked up. He was young, handsome, with a bony brow and square jaw. His eyes, however, were what stuck out. They were full of distress. This man did not want to die; he was willing to do whatever it took to survive.

  He attempted to pull himself up, reaching his free arm as high as possible. He gritted his teeth, his fingertips barely touching Grata’s.

  He appeared as though he wanted to scream something, just as he lost his hold and fell to the water with a dark splash.

  Grata shouted out, repelling the urge to jump after him, but there was nothing she could do. He fell so fast in the crimson depths and in an instant he was swallowed by the sea.

  The ship, like the others steadily moved further and further away from the pier. The people of Nightenvale continued to jump, despite the distance being far too large to make it to any of the ships. But they were willing to brave the icy ocean if it meant a chance of surviving.

  Grata gazed down to where the man had fallen. Then, his head popped up from the water. Only, it wasn’t water that he was swimming in.

  The man’s face dripped with the viscous, slimy, red streaks of what looked like blood. He coughed and spat up the liquid as he struggled to keep afloat, crying out for help.

  Grata noticed the dozens of other bobbing heads and bodies in the ‘water’. It was a devastating sight. So many people, struggling to swim in the red liquid as it seemed to envelope them like it had a life of its own.

  She lost sight of the man, feeling a strike to her gut upon realising he would be suffering such a cold death.

  Ghoulish red fingers clawed out from the waves, scratching at their skin, clutching their wet hair, and ripping at their clothes.

  They gargled and spat as their heads were pulled under. Grata swore she could see hands in the ocean of blood, choking the drowning swimmers.

  She could not turn away, despite the horror of it. She felt she owed it to them. She had made it to a ship just in time, and they had not.

  “What’s happening, momma?” Kasda asked, still crouched beside her leg.

  “Nothing, sweetheart,” Grata lied, feeling the winds pick up and the ship gain some speed as it left the harbour.

  The screams of the people left on the docks and those trapped in the frigid water died out a little too fast.

  Grata looked out at the horizon again, seeing more of the fiery stars falling, probably somewhere towards the mainland.

  The night sky lit up with entire clusters of the burning streaks. Their impacts created enormous flashes of red light, but no sound emanated from so far away.

  The sight was chilling. Grata could only get down and cuddle her boy, who she had saved… for now.

  The fear set in.

  What is happening? Are we going to make it, Fera?

  The realisation was slowly becoming truth in her mind… that her people had been right all along.

  Was the Final Ruin upon them, at last?

  Interlude - In Plain Sight

  Ida pulled the hood of her riding cloak over her deep black hair, hiding as much of her face in shadow as she could. The last thing she wanted was to draw any suspicions or curious eyes.

  Her journey into the Midlands had so far been uneventful- just as she had hoped. But the road to Stonebridge was still a long one and riding alone was a dangerous yet necessary decision that she had made.

  Don’t look back now. There is no going back.

  Ida reigned her horse onward towards the village of Deepwood. Enormous redwood trees shot up from the earth through a sea of moss, leaf litter and conifer needles. A ceiling of tree canopy and vegetation blocked out the sky, layering everything with a dim ambience.

  The innards of the largest trees in the village ahead had been dug out generations earlier. The people lived and worked comfortably inside them; some even had spiralling stairs chiselled out on the inner trunks of the redwoods, allowing for living on higher levels.

  The horse Ida had stolen back in Andervale had been good to her so far but needed a rest as much as she did after such a hard ride. This was her first time ever in the village, but Deepwood would do fine, it seemed quaint enough.

  Better than sleeping on the forest floor again.

  Ida turned back to the direction she had come, observing the haunting, dark, twistedness of the forest. Giant tree roots worming in and out of the earth, the lack of sunlight, owls hooting in the distance.

  Deepwood was a welcome relief from the unnerving forest.

  Horn lanterns hung on the outer trunks of around twenty trees, indicating those which had residences or shops inside. The village glowed an elegant orange in the sea of greys, dark greens and black surrounding it.

  Ida’s horse trotted along at a slow pace to avoid attention. She passed a couple of tree-dwellers who tipped their hats to her politely without uttering a word. Ida did not respond.

  Some of the tree structures had hanging signs on their trunks with familiar symbols- a horseshoe banner, a sewing needle banner, a grocer banner.

  “Excuse me?” Ida said to a passer-by. The man wore a floppy hat covered in twigs and old, stained clothing. He looked to be a resident of the forest, at least. “Is there an inn here in Deepwood, by any chance?”

  The man squinted his eyes, as if judging Ida.

  Shit. Does he know who I am?


  Ida felt a whisper of panic growing. Had she been found out?

  The man relaxed his face, before nodding and gesturing just ahead at a large redwood tree by the edge of the village. “Right up t’ere.”

  He doesn’t recognise you. He was probably just curious about a stranger in his town, Ida thought, breathing deep to calm her nerves.

  “Thank you kindly.” Ida realised she had sounded far too highborn when she had spoken to the man. She cleared her throat and left the man, keeping her head bowed.

  Need to work on my voice. Ida is no highborn.

  The door to the inn was open, and from inside came the calming sound of a flute and cheerful conversation.

  Ida tied her horse’s reins to a hitching post by the side of the tree. She gathered some hay in a bucket for him from a stack as the horse keenly lent forward to drink from a lichen-covered water trough.

  “See you bright and early, big guy,” Ida said, patting the horse’s thick shoulder. She carried her bag over one shoulder from the horse’s saddle.

  Entering the inn through the archway carved into the outer trunk of the redwood, Ida saw a small bar and barmaid, with patrons seated at a couple of tables and chairs. The space was small yet somewhat cosy, with small candles lit along the wooden walls instead of a fire or hearth, bathing everything in warm colours.

  “Can I help you?” the barmaid asked, her greasy, greying hair tied into a short ponytail.

  Ida could not pick the woman’s accent, nor her tone of voice. She was worried that she would be unwelcome, being an outsider and all. But she had no other option.

  Ida stepped towards the bar, feeling the wandering eyes of the drinking patrons observing her every move.

  “Yes, I was wondering if I could rent a room for the night,” she said as politely as possible.

  The barmaid smirked, revealing missing teeth. “You must be lost,” she said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “To want to stay in Deepwood, you must be lost!” A patron let out a snarky chuckle.

  Ida smiled nervously. “No, I’m not lost, actually. I just need somewhere to stay.”

  The barmaid nodded as she wiped down her small bar with a dirty cloth. “Probably for the best. Several travellers comin’ in the past few days have mentioned brigands out in these parts.”

  “Brigands?”

  The barmaid leant forward. Ida winced at the broken blood vessels in her wrinkled face and the nasty odour of rotting teeth. “Thieves in the night. They ambush trav’lers on these roads while they sleep. Gut ‘em or slice ‘em up, then rob the corpses.”

  Ida gulped. “I see.”

  “With the invasion up north, the king’s men are already stretched thin, they say. No one left to police the roads no more, so the crims go wild.”

  “Not to mention talk of another war between the Seynards and the Blacktrees,” one patron added, overhearing their conversation.

  “War?” Ida asked. Tensions were high between the two Houses, sure, but war? It caused her to shudder.

  Did I cause all this?

  “What’s your name then?” the barmaid said, cocking an unkempt eyebrow.

  “Ah, Ida.”

  “Ahida?”

  “No, sorry,” Ida said, embarrassed, “just Ida.” She realised that some of her black hair had fallen out from underneath the hood, promptly flicking it back out of view.

  Did she see it?

  “No family name, I take it?”

  Ida hesitated. “Just Ida.”

  “Right, well, a room is it then, love?” the barmaid asked. “I’ve got nothin’ fancy ‘ere, but I can promise you a good feed and clean sheets. Well, cleanish.”

  “That will be fine,” Ida said, handing the lady some marks for payment.

  “Last room up the stairs; it’s yours ‘til mornin’. I’ll bring you up some supper.”

  Ida climbed the creaky spiral stairs, noticing the rooms built into the upper floors of the enormous tree trunk on warped platforms.

  Ida’s room was already unlocked when she reached it. She made sure to lock it as soon as she got in. Gaps in the wooden planks of the floor let in light from the ground floor candles like rays of sun through tree branches.

  Her solitary window was open, allowing for the chilly breeze to sneak in. The darkening forest outside was alive with fireflies and insects singing. She promptly latched the window shut, noticing the mouldy curtains hanging askew.

  The room was scarcely furnished, with a small bed, a solitary chair and table with a dripping candle on top, a chamberpot, and a wash basin with stagnant water inside. Almost everything was made from the wood of the forest.

  It was not what Ida was accustomed to, but she knew she would be riding rough for a while until she reached Stonebridge and had to make-do with what she could get.

  I’d rather a stained, lumpy bed than insects and twigs and rocks for a mattress, she thought as she dropped her bag by the door.

  Finally, Ida felt comfortable enough to remove her hood, letting her hair flow down past her shoulders, black as night. It was a freeing feeling to remove the uncomfortable mask of her false identity, even if it were for only a short amount of time.

  For a brief moment, before the barmaid came upstairs with her supper, she was Jodie Blacktree again.

  ※

  Night came strangely in Deepwood.

  The forest was always in a state of dimness from the expansive canopy of the redwood trees. And given that the sky was basically impossible to see, the only way to tell that the sun had gone down was the change in ambient lighting and the rise of insect calls, like a loud, buzzing symphony.

  The perpetual lack of light was otherworldly, but it helped Ida get to sleep faster than usual.

  And sleep she did. Her body was thankful to finally get some rest in a bed, any bed. Her muscles ached from all the riding, and her head was eager for a break.

  It didn’t last long.

  Ida awoke in her uncomfortable bed a short time later to a hand over her mouth. She attempted to scream but was unable to let out anything loud than a muffled groan.

  The shadowy figure above her held her down with great force as she tried fighting him off, kicking her legs and smacking with her hands.

  She saw others in the room with her, their unusual silhouettes standing out in the dim blue light like horrors from a nightmare. Ida could feel the rough fingertips across her face and the pressure of other hands as they held her limbs down.

  She smelt the scent of stale beer and sweat and could taste the bitter fear in her mouth.

  This was no dream.

  The assailants did not utter a single word.

  One of the figures covered her head in a sack, and Ida was instantly thrown into a state of incoordination. Her wrists and ankles were bound with rope, and Ida was heaved off the bed and thrown a broad shoulder like an animal carcass.

  The man carrying her was huge. He began walking and she heard loud thuds as the others left the room too. They knew what they were doing.

  Ida could not see a single thing. Panic set in.

  “That’s her,” a voice said. It was a familiar voice, softer than a man’s voice.

  Ida began to weep upon realising the croaky voice belonged to the old barmaid with the bad teeth she had spoken to earlier in the night.

  They found me. No, no, no. Heavens, no. They have found me.

  “You sure?” the man carrying her asked.

  “Said her name was ‘Ida’. No family name. Fit the description of the girl you were looking for, though,” the woman said coldly.

  Ida begged to be let go, but her pleas came out muffled through the sack and were ignored.

  “My boss’ll be the judge of that.”

  The men who had captured her continued on their way, Ida assumed to the exit of the inn.

  “Wait, where’s my money?” the barmaid shouted from behind.

  The man carrying Ida paused but did not respond.

  “You promis
ed fifty gold marks to whoever found this Blacktree bitch.”

  In a gruff voice, the man replied, “You get paid when her identity is confirmed with my boss.”

  He did not even wait for a response. He and his men marched for the ground floor to the barmaid’s displeasure. She called them liars and thieves, but they ignored each insult as if they were above such petty things.

  Ida, her energy drained from her thrashing and fighting, realised that she would not be able to escape. Her arms and legs were bound, her head covered, and they were strong.

  What chance do I stand?

  The kidnappers had a boss who was seeking her, the real her, for whatever reason. Probably to pay a bounty to get her back, Ida supposed.

  Perhaps I can outsmart them. Make them believe I am not Jodie Blacktree.

  Panic was setting in.

  The best she could hope for was that these men would not hurt her, and that their ‘boss’ could be reasoned with. She had played men before and despite the shock of being dragged out of bed by strangers in the middle of the night, she was able to think a step ahead and plan for what was next come.

  In a state of fear, Ida was thrown onto the front of a horse with the man who carried her riding at her back. She had no chance to escape. She could hear the others mounting up. And before she could even catch her breath, they rode off into the night.

  Act IV

  Inferno

  Chapter 37 - The Silence

  Ten years earlier…

  Katryna Bower floated in the bathtub, feeling the gentle ripples of the warm, soapy water slosh against her nakedness.

  Her makeup was smeared down her face from crying. She took some of the water and washed herself, trying her best to wipe away the grime and the hurt.

  Where’s father? Why hasn’t he said anything to mother? Why am I still locked away?

  The bathtub sat in the centre of the opulent washroom. The arching windows had been opened to allow the warm Camridian breeze to flow inside. Small palms sat potted in the corners of the room, and one wall was covered by a brilliant wooden trellis overgrown with green and purples crestvines.