Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1)

by Jackson Simiana

  “As am I,” Lynn smirked. “I will be on the lookout for any adverse symptoms, however. I know very little about Blight, but what I do know is that drinking it never came without a cost.”

  “You think it would have made you sick?”

  Lynn worriedly studied her blackened fingertips. They almost looked necrotic from the cold as if frostbite had taken them, yet they were still alive. Something about the way they were coloured appeared unnatural.

  “I don’t know,” Lynn sighed.

  It was still tough for Tomas to feel truly sorry for her. She was a part of the organisation who had not only abducted children but used them to create this strange substance, on top of everything else that had occurred.

  Surely, she was somewhat responsible for what was happening.

  It’s your own fault, Tomas thought. All this shit happened because of the people you associated with. Losing Rilan and Landry, the attack on the Repository and now Brittlepeak.

  Tomas wanted to say the words but felt it might be best not to be so direct. Truly, however, he did not believe the spiteful insults playing in his mind. Whether he liked it or not, the girl had saved his life and was his only companion.

  To be honest, all he wanted to do was leave. Leave that place for good, leave Lynn Jhono forever. He was exhausted and had had enough loss for a single lifetime.

  Yet, after all he had witnessed and the events of the last several weeks, there was no doubt in his mind anymore that there was some honesty to Lynn’s story.

  “Everything you said has been true, so far,” Tomas realised, looking Lynn in the eye. “About the attacks, and the Blight. So, that means-”

  “It’s not over, not by a long shot. This is only the beginning,” Lynn said.

  Tomas gazed up into the brightening sky, observing the bleeding star streaking across it with its long tail, noticing how each time it reappeared, it seemed to be growing larger. As if it were slowly becoming closer.

  Lynn pulled the old tome from the satchel she still wore, patting its thick cover. “I believe that somewhere in here lies the answer to what is happening. Perhaps the information we need to be able to stop all of this. Something that can help us. But I need time to read it. It will take me days to get through this entire book.

  “I fear that this is larger than just the Grand Repository and Brittlepeak, Tomas. It is bigger than the damn Broken Coast! This may affect everything. I worry that these events will soon be happening across the world if they aren’t already. That is how it starts. How it always starts.”

  “How what starts?” Tomas gulped.

  “The Cataclysm.”

  Tomas frowned, shaking his head. “You know, perhaps all of this could have been avoided. All the horrors my friends and I have faced is because of the Imperium and the work of your Magister Prime.”

  “Believe me when I say that I did not want any of this to happen.”

  Tomas exhaled sharply. “None of this had to happen.”

  Lynn could tell that Tomas was still mourning his losses quite viscerally- it was written clearly across his face and behind the inflections in his words.

  “Each day that star grows closer to Eos,” Lynn said, pointing up at the sky. “The Magister Prime believed that it had something to do with the Cataclysm, and the secrets to both may be right here within these pages.”

  Tomas ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and exhausted.

  Lynn drew her lips to a line. “I need you, Tomas. I can’t do this without you.”

  He glanced back at the woman, her words somehow resonating more now than they had been before. There was desperation in her tone.

  “I am alone in the world, in a strange place. I do not know if I can take care of myself out here. I doubt I can defend myself. I need to get to someone who can write to the king. I need to let others know what is happening and what is coming.”

  Tomas listened more intently than he cared to admit. Somehow, he could hear his own voice behind her words, recalling the feelings seared into his mind the day he had been taken from his home to join the army.

  At first it had all been excitement to escape the monotonous life he had always had. However, it was quickly replaced with fear and paranoia.

  The world was an enormous place, far larger than he had ever comprehended. In that enormous world were people he did not understand, places he did not know, and dangers that he could never have expected.

  The memories were powerful, because he came to realise how much he had relied on Rilan so much during that time. He had no experience with the world or the people in it, no one to take care of him anymore.

  Only Rilan.

  Rilan had been the one constant in Tomas’s life since his childhood. His ray of hope, his shield, his protector, his friend when in need. The one immovable, impenetrable force.

  But Rilan was gone, buried somewhere alone in the snow and mud.

  Tomas could not deny the familiarity of the anxiety behind Lynn’s words. She was stuck in the same situation as he had been.

  She is just like me.

  Tomas closed his eyes, nodding his head as he came to accept his realisation. Lynn was alone too, and Lynn needed help, much as he had. Whether or not all of what she said was true, they would be better off sticking together.

  “I will accompany you,” Tomas said.

  Lynn could not avoid grinning, patting him on the shoulder in appreciation. “Thank you.”

  There was a calm relief in her soft voice. Tomas was certain he was making the right decision about where to go from there.

  Tomas stood up slowly, his joints still aching from his earlier fall.

  “Right now, we need to find help. We need to warn the other settlements in the area of the attacks. They may be next. We need supplies, gear, and transport if we are to inform the king of what is coming.”

  Lynn put the tome safely away into her satchel and rose, looking around at the snowy forest and icy ravine from their humble spot beneath the overhang of earth and roots.

  Tomas pointed down the frozen river, away from where they had come from.

  “If we keep following the river, we will eventually get to Rivendam.”

  “Rivendam?” Lynn said.

  “It’s a large town towards the coast. I’ve never been there before, but it was where my father was born. I remember him telling me stories about it.”

  Father. Tomas shuddered to himself but instantly brushed it aside.

  “They will have people there who can help us. And once we are there, you can study that tome of yours.”

  “Alright,” Lynn said, sweeping strands of her glowing red hair out from her face. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  The pair nodded in agreement, brushing themselves off from the snow and dirt that had accumulated on their worn clothing and beginning their journey back onto the frozen river.

  Tomas questioned if he had made the right decision, thinking back to the past few weeks of horrors he had faced. He looked to Lynn Jhono by his side as they began their trek, watching as the black liquid sloshed in the vial around her neck with each step she took.

  He did not know whether to be perplexed by it, or terrified. His concern for Lynn’s health was at the forefront of his anxieties. He had seen the power that Blight had given her when she drank only a sip, and the awful reaction her body suffered with afterward.

  Was he safe travelling alone with this girl who was little more than a stranger to him?

  Yet, Tomas was able to settle each fear and anxiety that popped up, reminding himself of what he had already faced and survived.

  No matter what happens to me, what obstacles I may face, or what pains I must endure, I will make it. I must trust myself.

  Each step was another step further from Tomas’s old home. He felt dread, sure, just as he had the first time he had left. But this time it felt quite different.

  Unlike his first ever venture away from home, Tomas was feeling confident this time because he was the one
making the decision for himself. For once, he was not running away anymore.

  And there was a certain fulfilment that came to him in knowing that his path ahead was his own to build.

  Chapter 47 - The Man in Shadow

  King Emery Blacktree, still in his riding gear and clutching his bandaged, broken arm, stormed into the royal quarters of the Alderhall keep where he had been told his wife was resting.

  His eyes were panicked, wide with fear for Queen Sirillia’s wellbeing. He saw a ghostly figure lying in the canopy bed beneath thick layers, surrounded by several healers and physicians.

  Emery rushed over with Ser Yelin Mortimer right on his heels.

  “My king, we really need to set your arm correctly!” Yelin called out after him. But there was no stopping the man.

  After arriving back in Dawnhill, Emery had been met at the gates by a messenger to warn him that Queen Sirillia had become very ill along their journey home.

  He didn’t even allow the messenger to finish speaking before he took off galloping up the steep slope that the capital had been built upon, riding straight for Alderhall.

  “Your arm needs to be looked at by someone at once, my king,” Yelin urged, following Emery into the royal sleeping quarters.

  Emery, again, did not respond, instead rushing over to Sirillia. He ignored his messed-up hair, the soot still staining his face and scorch marks across his clothing.

  His image, something he was always thinking about, did not matter.

  Nothing else mattered but Sirillia.

  “Move aside,” he told one of the physicians bent over her.

  And there she was. Her eyes were half-open, and she was still breathing, which was a kind relief. However, she looked worse than Emery had ever seen her before.

  Sirillia smiled upon recognising her husband before hunching over and coughing violently.

  Emery grabbed some pillows and sat them behind her back to help make her more comfortable as she wretched and hacked for several seconds.

  The air was humid, thick with the scent of incense and herbs. Most of the curtains had been closed to help the queen get some rest, dipping the room into a harsh dimness.

  Emery sat by her side on the edge of the bed, his battered armour clinking as he did. He took her hand between his. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was so worried for you.”

  Sirillia squeezed his hand back, trying her hardest to keep her eyes open.

  “Did… did you find…” Sirillia murmured.

  “Petir is safe and sound. He arrived back to the capital with me. We are fine, love.”

  Sirillia made a sigh of relief. Her breathing was wheezy and shallow, as if her lungs were being compressed under an immense weight.

  “What… what about Ciana?”

  Emery could only shake his head. Their daughter was still captive to the Seynards, possibly in more danger now than she had been before the attack.

  It was a horrific feeling, not knowing if she was safe, whether she was being treated fairly and kindly. But the worst part for Emery was knowing that in the moment, there was nothing he could do to help his little girl.

  Sirillia began to cough again. Drops of blood sprayed onto the embroidered duvet.

  Emery looked to the physicians surrounding the bed. “What happened to the queen?”

  A healer stepped forward wearing thick spectacles and with a distinctive, curly moustache. “My king, we believe the events in Tellersted have weakened the queen. The smoke and ash are toxic for anyone’s breathing, let alone someone who is already suffering with lung disease.”

  Emery glanced back to his wife, sweeping some stray hairs away from her forehead. Her skin was hot, and beads of sweat was dripping down from her hairline.

  He felt his chest tightening and his eyes beginning to sting. He felt his confidence beginning to shatter.

  Creator, forgive me. This is all my fault.

  “I should never have taken her to Tellersted,” Emery realised.

  Ser Yelin stepped forward with a comforting hand upon the king’s armoured shoulder. “There was no way we could have known what would happen.”

  “The fault… is mine… and mine alone,” Sirillia insisted between struggled breaths.

  She groaned and cried as she heaved. The pain in her airways was becoming too much to bear, Emery could tell.

  Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy and within seconds she was back to unconsciousness, completely exhausted by the toll the disease was taking on her.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Emery begged.

  The physicians muttered to themselves, avoiding eye contact with the king wherever they could. Another of the doctors spoke up this time, a younger woman in a grey robe.

  “All we can do is manage the symptoms. The lungrot is not curable, my liege.”

  Emery’s head sank down in despair. The words were difficult to hear, even more difficult to comprehend. He knew that her condition was one that would eventually take her… but not this soon, and not so rapidly.

  “There must be… something? Anything?”

  The physicians shrugged awkwardly, remaining silent.

  “How long?”

  Again, they stayed quiet.

  Emery felt his fury take hold, swiping at a glass from the end table and sending it flying across the room to shatter on the adjacent wall. The physicians all took a sudden step back in surprise.

  “What’s the point in having healers around if you can’t fucking heal my wife?!” Emery screamed, dropping his head into his shaking hands.

  One man stepped forward.

  “I believe I can help the queen,” muttered a low-toned, mysterious voice from the back of the group of physicians.

  Emery lifted his gaze from his hands, attempting to see between the bobbling heads of the other physicians to identify the owner of the strange voice.

  “You there, step forward.”

  The hooded figure in dark robes walked up towards the king, clasping his hands together. His hood covered the top-half of his face, but Emery could make out the shrivelled mouth and white beard of an older man.

  Ser Yelin grew immediately concerned, as he often would when it came to the king’s safety. He steadily approached the king and the man in robes with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

  Emery raised a hand to signal to Yelin that it was fine. The hooded man stood before the king, still clasping his hands.

  “You’re a new physician to Alderhall?” Emery said.

  “Yes, your grace. I come from up north.”

  “And you can save my wife?” Emery asked, refusing to break eye contact with the strange man.

  The hooded figure smirked before nodding just once. The other physicians whispered to one-another, giving strange glares towards the mysterious man.

  Emery sighed. “Everyone else, leave at once.”

  Yelin leant in to whisper into the king’s ear. “Allow me to stay, my king. I don’t think this is a good-”

  Emery turned and glared directly at Yelin. “That’s an order, soldier.”

  The other physicians began to funnel out from the room. Ser Yelin shut his mouth before bowing to his king and following them close behind with a suspicious expression upon his face.

  The hooded figure remained motionless as everyone else left the royal quarters, closing the door behind them.

  “Speak,” Emery said, growing increasingly desperate.

  Who knew how long Sirillia would have left?

  The mysterious older man slowly pulled his black hood down, revealing a wrinkled face, piercing white eyes and long, pale hair.

  Something about him was unsettling. His presence, his blank stare, his gruff voice, perhaps? Emery was unsure what exactly it was that was making him uncomfortable but chose to ignore it for the sake of his wife’s health.

  The elderly man rested the back of his hand against the unconscious queen’s forehead.

  “She will not last the week, I fear.”

  Eme
ry stood up to face the man. “I thought you said you could save her?”

  “I can.” His blue lips barely moved as he spoke.

  Emery nodded. “Very good, then.”

  “However, my methods are somewhat… unorthodox.”

  Emery did not care. If what the old man said was true and he could save Sirillia when no one else could, then it would be worth it.

  “What do you need from me?” Emery asked.

  The old man paused before speaking. “I will need space to work.”

  Emery nodded, considering areas within the castle that were open and free from distraction. “You are welcome to use the undercroft beneath Alderhall.”

  “There is more.”

  “What else do you require?”

  “Children.”

  Emery swore he misheard the physician. “Pardon me?”

  The elderly man looked back at him. “I will need children to help cultivate an antidote. It matters not where they come from; you can get some orphans from the Gutters for all I care.”

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” Emery laughed angrily. “I will have you punished for wasting my time and jeopardising the queen’s health.”

  “I never joke.”

  Emery planted his hands on his hips. “What is your name?”

  “They once called me Impatus Rumanos.”

  “‘They’?”

  “The Magister’s Imperium.”

  Emery squinted at the old man. His name sounded familiar. Impatus Rumanos. Had he heard it somewhere before? What in the Creator’s grace is this fool trying to accomplish here?

  “Well, what shall I call you now, then?”

  The old man raised a sharp eyebrow. “Some call me the Enlightened One. The Winged Death. But I go by the common name of Morpheus.”

  “You were a Magister?”

  Morpheus faced the queen once again, still lying in her bed. He raised a wrinkled hand over her face.

  Emery stormed towards him. “What do you think you are…”

  But he was stopped in his tracks by a magnificent sight.

  White tendrils began to flow out from Morpheus’s hand, starting small but steadily growing longer, down onto Sirillia’s skin. They radiated white light, wriggling like worms before making contact with her red-hot flesh.