by David Estes
Star-Born Mage
Book One of the Godstar Chronicles
David Estes
Copyright 2018 David Estes
Kindle Edition, License Notes
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART I
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
PART II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
PART III
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
PART IV
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
PART V
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
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PART I
SEVEN DAYS UNTIL THE EVENT
Prologue
Somewhere, alone in a faraway galaxy, a planet died. Its inhabitants were low-tech ground dwellers. They’d tried to burrow belowground, but their efforts had been no better than those of mice trying to escape the talons of a hawk as it swooped down, hungry for breakfast. The world, which had been labeled Earth many eons ago, hadn’t been crushed by time or some random cataclysmic collision with another celestial body. No, it had been eaten. More like devoured. The devourer, however, wasn’t satisfied. Its ravenous hunger rolled onward, in search of its next prey. Shadowy tendrils of fog stretched out before it, like the first dark clouds of an approaching storm.
Those who lived within its bounds were not evil or soulless; they did not hate or fearmonger or relish the countless lives they’d taken over the centuries.
They were survivors.
The only problem:
For them to survive, all others would have to die.
Chapter 1
The real Miss Universe
“Psychotic bitch.” The insult was spoken in Fradanese under the breath of a Fradarian beauty, but Vee’s long range comm picked it up and translated it into English. Evidently the intended target, a tall, curvy Bronzian who’d been the runner-up in the previous year’s pageant, heard the comment too, because she half-turned back and paused. Vee tensed, her hand instinctively going to her tase-whip in case the altercation turned violent. Miss Bronze, however, merely fired off a quick sneer before continuing onto the stage.
Beside Vee, Minnow chuckled. “Never dull,” he grunted.
She relaxed, thankful she had at least one friend in the Godstar galaxy. The Minot was enormous, his grey-tinted legs like tree trunks and his arms bulging with muscle. His calm and gentle demeanor could be mistaken by some as a weakness, but Vee knew him well enough to know he wasn’t one to be trifled with. In fact, just last night he’d used his bone-hard forehead and horns to deal with some pageant stalkers who’d tried to sneak into a VIP event. The morons would live, she suspected, but whether they would walk or talk again was another matter.
Vee refocused as the Bronzian strutted across the stage, hips swaying amidst raucous applause. Blasts of bronze sparks burst from the floor, partly obscuring her. The woman’s form blurred slightly, and then her long bronze gown morphed into a two-piece swimsuit—also bronze, of course—that sparkled with jade gemstones. “Ooh,” the crowd murmured, always impressed by even the most mundane display of magic.
What a waste. I’ll show you magic, Vee thought, picturing it in her mind: Drawing the mag-rifle strapped to her chest, tracing the glyph for detonate on the spellscreen and channeling the spell into the bullets, firing them at the walls, which would implode on contact.
“Breathe, fireball,” Minnow said, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re starting to glow.”
Vee glanced at the burly Minot, who gestured to her arm. She followed his gaze and, sure enough, there was a dull red light emanating from her arm. She took a deep breath. Then another. The glow lessened and then winked out entirely. “Thanks,” she said.
“Godstars save us from hot-tempered fire mages…” Minnow muttered, but there was no anger in his tone.
“If the godstars are aware of what is happening on this stage, I suspect they’ll blow themselves up and end us all.”
“Why do you hate this event so much? We’ve worked it for three years now. It’s just a job.”
Vee seriously considered the question. After all, Minnow was right. They’d get a hundred thousand Vectors each for only a week’s worth of work. There were worse jobs with less pay and longer hours. Plus, they let her carry a mag-rifle and tase-whip. Life could be worse, couldn’t it?
She gazed across the magnificent amphitheater, which was molded from liquid tritonium, a small fortune’s worth. The acoustics were perfect, and no expense had been spared on the special effects. The founders of the pageant, the Maxino’s, had more Vectors than most planets. In fact, their family actually owned this particular planet. It was a small one, but still…
My little star-born mage.
The words came so swiftly to Vee’s mind that they snatched the breath from her throat. It was something her father had called her as she’d grown up on Archimedes. When she was only three, the magic had manifested itself. She’d been playing with something—a doll, she remembered—and had gotten angry when the toy’s legs and arms wouldn’t move the way she’d wanted them too. Then, suddenly, the doll was on fire, the flames purple rather than red and orange. The doll was soon engulfed, turning to a pile of ash a moment later.
Only one in a hundred million or so were blessed by the godstars. At first Verity had resisted going to the Mage Academy like everyone expected her to, but it was hard to deny one’s true nature. Especially after her mother had been killed in action near the Outer Reaches in Godstar VI. The Alliance needed recruits and given her talent with fire—specifically how she used it to destroy stuff—she’d been trained to be a warrior mage.
But then she did that one thing on that one night that ruined the perfect little destiny she’d been headed for…
And now? Now she was a rent-a mage working security at the annual Miss Universe pageant in case…what? Two of the contestants got in a tussle over whose claws were sharper? Vee rolled her eyes, feeling the familiar weight of regret. On the edge of her vision, she saw the reading from the magical experience meter, or MAG/EXP, implanted in her eye: Class 3. All the effort, the blood, the sweat, and yes, the tears, felt like a waste of time. What good was it becoming a Class 3 mage when there was no hope of further advancement? Another year in the Academy would’ve gotten her to Class 4—a full-blown warrior
mage. It was something she’d wanted ever since her mother’s untimely death—a chance to fight in the war, to avenge her, to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. Four years out of the Academy and—she glanced at her magical experience meter—she only had 36,000 Class 3 MAG/EXP points, barely 10% of the required amount to advance. Despite being booted from the Academy, she was damn certain the space fleet wouldn’t refuse a Class 4 mage volunteering to fight. Sure, she’d attempted Class 4 spells before, in secret, but if she ever cast one in public, where there were witnesses…
The law was written in no uncertain terms: Casting a spell above one’s rank is strictly forbidden…the offending mage shall be stripped of rank and shall be banned from the use of magic for infinity or the destruction of the universe, whichever comes first.
Okay, maybe she’d made up the last part on her own, but still…
I screwed up.
No, she thought. This wasn’t my fault. It was his. Just as quickly, she chided herself for her foolishness. Blaming another, even a bastard like her ex, was a fool’s game. And she refused to play the fool in her own life.
“Hey,” she said, turning toward Minnow. “Wanna grab a firebrew after this farce is over?”
“Only if you twist my arm,” he said.
“Done.”
Vee’s comm crackled as the head of their security unit said, “Vee, stay on point. Min, enough chatter.” Their boss, Jin, was a decent enough woman, a serious, no-nonsense sort. Vee had worked for her for almost four long years now.
The Bronzian had finished her catwalk, and now it was the nasty Fradarian’s turn. Typical for her race, her skin was as white as snow, almost translucent, showing faint pink veins beneath. She tossed her silky pink hair over her shoulder and climbed the steps with such grace she might’ve been royalty. She wore a one-piece suit speckled with diamond-dust. The getup alone would’ve cost a fortune, which meant her sponsor was extraordinarily wealthy.
The crowd ate it up, their applause and cheers rising to a crescendo until—
Silence, abrupt and complete, like the very air had been sucked from the room.
All eyes watched as the Fradarian stopped dead in her tracks, a black dart protruding from her chest, already surrounded by a growing ring of pink blood that soaked through her priceless suit.
And then she fell and the air seemed to reenter the amphitheater in a rush and the silence was shattered by screams and shouts.
Beside Vee, Minnow said, “What the everliving Hole?”
More darts filled the air and Vee reacted even before Jin shouted, “Code black! Code black!” It was a command all of them had learned on their first day on the job, but which none of them had heard since.
Vee sprinted down the narrow walkway between seats, shoving guests aside even as they tried to flee for the exits. One of them, a tanned Bronzian, fell, a black dart embedded in his neck. Vee stopped when she reached the stage, unstrapping her mag-rifle—a Simpson x9 with an oversized spellscreen—from around her neck. She searched for the other contestants, who were foolishly huddled together in one corner, along with the MC for the event. Vee raced for the women, taking the steps three at a time, shouting for them to, “Spread out!” even as the high-pitched whine of another dart whistled past.
Vee didn’t think, her instincts and training kicking in as she traced the glyph for track, a simple Class 1 spell, on the spellscreen located on her mag-rifle’s stock and fired a single bullet.
Shot from a normal mechanical gun, the bullet would’ve missed by an arm’s length, but the spell had been well cast, flowing through the stock and into the processing chamber where it had infused the bullet. The bewitched ammunition changed direction in midair, tracking the dart, knocking it off target the moment before it would’ve entered the mouth of one of the screaming contestants. Vee was dimly aware of her MAG/EXP meter cycling through the additional points she’d gained, though that was the last thing on her mind.
“Spread out!” she shouted again at the frozen women, and finally her words got through to them as they scattered like a flock of perfectly formed birds.
Vee cast her eyes upwards, the barrel of her weapon tracing an invisible line across the glass-domed roof, searching for the source of the black darts. The sky was dark but scattered with lights of various colors. Golden stars from other systems and galaxies glittered, while at least two moons and three planets could be seen, glowing red and blue and green. Archimedes, with its three interconnecting rings, appeared to be only a stone’s throw away, though it was really around a hundred million kilometers given its current orbital position. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she muttered as Minnow skidded to a stop beside her, his massive rocket launcher hefted onto his shoulder.
“Where are they?” he asked.
“Anyone got eyes?” Jin’s voice said in Vee’s ears. A chorus of nos followed.
Vee frowned, still looking up at the glass dome. Outside, it was dark, the cloudless sky a sea of stars and planets.
Some of them were moving.
“Incoming!” Vee shouted, her warning lost amongst the cacophony caused by the shattering of the thick firmament of glass, a maelstrom of splinters, shards and fist-sized chunks raining down upon them. Incinerate, Vee cast, squeezing the trigger and holding, spraying the air with counterfire. Infused with Class 3 magic, each bullet that contacted the falling pieces of glass disintegrated them before they could cause any harm. Still, thousands of shards made it through and Verity was forced to hunker down with Minnow as they shielded their faces and heads with their armored arms. She was tired from conjuring the spell but using her weapon to process the magic had helped.
Vee felt the warmth of blood on her face as her skin was pierced in several places before the waterfall of glass shrapnel was over. She rose slowly, her weapon on a swivel as she took in the air above her.
Code black.
The winged warriors descended upon those who sought to escape, firing black darts from small weapons gripped in clawed fists. Jackals, Vee thought, remembering the training she’d received at the Academy what felt like an eternity ago. Though the dark-scaled reptilian race’s home planet, Jarnum, was within the Godstar System, it was well on the fringe, beyond the Outer Reaches, a cold, desolate place that had long maintained a policy of isolation. Attacks from the Jackals were regular, but minor, and usually the Godstar Alliance, with its various Academy-trained mages, were more than sufficient to hold the terrorists at bay.
Verity processed all this information in an instant, watching as another dart thunked into the back of a fleeing pageant spectator. The man collapsed like a sack of moon rocks.
The same Jackal turned directly toward her, already aiming its weapon in her direction.
Whoosh! The rocket exploded from Minnow’s launcher, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. The missile punched into the Jackal’s gut, driving him back across the amphitheater. His wings crumpled as he slammed into the wall a moment before there was a mighty
WHUMP!
and the air itself seemed to ignite, a wave of superheated wind blasting overhead.
Vee dropped onto her stomach as the energy washed over her, watching as two other Jackals’ bones were illuminated when the fire tore its way through them.
What was left of the creatures—bits and pieces of scales and bones—sprinkled over her along with a fine mist of ash. It was followed by debris from the explosion, and, once more, Vee was forced to protect her head and face with her arms.
“Whoa,” she heard Minnow grunt. “Kitchen’s open at the Jackal Grill.”
When Vee looked up, most of the pageant spectators who hadn’t managed to escape through the exits were lying prone on their stomachs in the aisles. They were smudged with ash and blood, many of their cheeks stained with tears.
And it wasn’t over yet.
Another half-dozen Jackals still roamed the air above them, having somehow managed to dodge the fire and shrapnel from the explosion. One of them rocketed down toward the
stage, firing off four darts in short succession.
Verity kicked to her feet in one motion, once more lifting her mag-rifle, which she continued to hold in a tight grip. The next glyph she traced was one she hadn’t practiced much as it was an advanced Class 3 spell. The image was far from perfect…but it was also the only chance to stop all four darts. “Spray,” she said as she fired.
Each bullet that burst from the gun’s barrel shattered into hundreds of tiny metal pieces, filling the air with an insectile whine. Three of the darts were ripped to shreds by the metallic spray, but the fourth trailed a beat behind, avoiding the worst of it.
Vee squeezed the trigger, sending another bullet zipping away but it didn’t explode into fragments the way the others had. Still, by a stroke of luck it hit the Jackal in the forehead and his wings failed him as he fell to the stage with a heavy thump.
The final dart plunged not into Vee, but into Minnow, piercing his meaty shoulder via a small crack in his body armor that had likely been a result of the explosion. No, Vee thought, crawling to her friend and ripping the dart from his flesh, tossing it aside.
“I’m sorry,” Minnow said with a tight smile. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed.
Verity barely managed to cradle his head before it slammed against the stage.
She stared at him for a moment, trying not to think about everything she knew about the black-tipped weapons favored by the Jackals. A scream tore her from her reverie, and she was forced back to the reality of the present situation. Five Jackals continued to roam the air, three of which were locked in a shooting match with the other security guards on Jin’s crew.
They were losing, badly. One of the guards fell when a dart bit into her cheek. Another was picked up by one of the Jackals as it swooped past. The man, Bernard, screamed as he was carried high up and then dropped.
Vee reacted, forgetting momentarily that her mag-rifle had failed her, tracing the simple Class 1 glyph for catch and firing… This time, however, there was no burst of energy, no glow from her spellscreen as the symbol came to life, her spell processed by the weapon. Only a