by J. A. Comley
Silvery-blue light flooded through the Royal City as the last rays of sunlight were swallowed up behind Sunset Ridge and the blue globes Starla had spotted earlier came to life.
Starla began to look for a way out of the crowd. Ahead of her, across the square, were two of the six white towers, both glowing. An imposing white, metal gate barred the way to the Imperial Circle beyond.
Odd. Gaby had said those were kept open.
A multi-coloured haze seemed to cling to the white wall that surrounded the Imperial Circle, like a giant soap bubble. Men and women in white, flowing robes stood atop the walkway above the gate, spanning the gap between the two towers. Starla could just make out a dark-green belt of seven stars around their waists. Makhi. She looked over them again. Some looked very human but others had cat-like ears sitting atop their heads and strangely-coloured hair in hues of red, blue and purple the likes of which Starla had not seen before. Abruptly, she remembered the girl sitting at her mother's feet in the picture. Was she somehow linked to these feline creatures?
She scanned the wall again, looking for her initial quarry. Every robe was plain white.
“No High Lord,” she muttered, thankfully, under her breath, remembering the Guardians saying his robe was coloured differently.
She turned away and glanced to her right, through the crowd. The citizens were all focused on the gates ahead. Most people had brown hair of varying shades and eyes to match, she noted, pulling her hood farther forward. Among the brightly-coloured tunics on the women and smocks on the men, some wore a blacksmith's leather vest, others, a tabard proclaiming them a messenger or servant of some high-ranking official or lord. But absolutely every citizen wore belt of seven stars about their waist. Brown for peasants, yellow for merchants, pink for servants, orange for messengers.
Abruptly, Starla found herself thinking of her mother's shawl. The five-point stars making up the belts looked so much like the ones on the shawl. Stars seemed to be an important motif here.
No coincidence, thought Starla. She cursed herself again for having lost it. Still, hopefully, it was back home and Father Joaquin had found it. A pang of sadness pricked her at the thought of the old priest. Starla pushed it down. She had to focus. To her left was an unbroken string of shops stretched at least halfway down the gathered crowd.
Too far. Starla turned to her right again and heaved a sigh of relief as she saw three hooded figures making their way toward a fourth. The fourth was standing at the entrance to a dark alley.
Slowly, Starla began to move through the crowd, trying not to jostle too many people but having to apologise to every second person, nonetheless. Despite their annoyance, most people barely spared Starla a glance, their eyes riveted on the gates, watching them with bated breath. Starla wheeled forwards as trumpet song rent the air. A sound like distant thunder was rumbling closer from behind those gates.
A flash of brilliant, white light split the bubble, causing it to shimmer as it parted along the split, pulling back like a giant stage curtain. Starla watched, captivated, as the High Lord's Shield parted. The expectant excitement of the citizens was almost tangible and Starla found herself unable to turn away as the thunder of hoof beats grew closer.
The Gates swung open as the Makhi above them raised thin, brown staves of varying styles. From the gate, burst over a hundred men and women in full battle regalia, each bearing a white belt of seven stars, indicating that they were members of the Royal Army of Galatia. At their head, rode a grave-looking young woman, her dark blonde hair in gathered in a short ponytail. Starla noted the blue and gold sash that crossed her chest.
Starla's mind stalled momentarily. The High Commander, leader of Galatia's army, was a woman?
The idea was both strange and wonderful. It seemed people here had no problem with females holding power.
I wonder if Father Joe would have liked that, or if it would have been too different from his own world? She smiled to herself, thinking of what his face would be like if he were here.
“Look, mama! Harknines!” a girl squealed in delight, clutching at her mother's tunic and pointing excitedly at the army's steeds.
Starla looked at the cause of the thunderous sound. They were multi-hued creatures, with eight thick, strong legs, each ending in a hoof as large as Starla's face. They began to form a semi-circle around the fountain. Their bodies were similar to a horse's, but more muscular and entirely hairless. They had four ears and two large, yellow eyes. As the edge of the semi-circle grew closer, Starla noted that the creatures' nostrils were on the sides of their necks, beneath their ears, instead of their noses.
“High Commander D'Ordeley lives!” exulted an elderly man just ahead of Starla, his voice full of unbridled respect.
Starla glanced back at the woman leading the troops. She looked far too young for her position. She had stopped her steed in front of the fountain, at the centre of the semi-circle, but instead of sitting straight and looking out on the crowd as her men did, the Commander sat slumped, staring into the fountain's watery depths. A long horn blast made her start, but as the Shield parted a second time, she regained her composure and sat to attention in her saddle.
“So few have returned,” lamented the elderly lady to the old man. He patted her hand fondly, obviously trying to comfort her.
Starla shook her head, a wave of empathy flowing through her. How many had not returned home? How many people here were waiting for loved ones who would never return? The screams from the previous night seemed to echo in her head. She shuddered.
Coming through the gates now was an enormous open carriage pulled by four matched, deep brown Harknines.
“Oh, but the nobles look lovely!” cooed the old man's companion, pointing at the carriage, clearly trying to regain a lighter tone.
Deep V-neck tunics and high-collared smocks adorned its occupants. Jewels glittered on necks and fingers. The nobles waved as their carriage passed before the cheering crowd once, then circled back to stop before the fountain. Following the carriage's progress, Starla spotted the four Sacrileons waving frantically at her.
Silently scolding herself for delaying, she quickly headed off in their direction, apologising when she got in someone's way of the ongoing procession. She ignored the next fanfare, more elaborate than all the others, as the Shield parted for a third time.
“The King! The King!” a man cheered.
Curiosity won out over urgency and Starla glanced back at the open gates, still edging her way to the Guardians. Another carriage, this one gilded and much smaller, was passing the crowd. Its three occupants each wore a crown of gold. The Royal Family of Galatia, Starla guessed, although the dark-skinned woman couldn't possibly be related to the two men, one old, one young.
Behind the carriage followed an enormous, wolf-like creature. Starla felt her eyes widen and her feet slow. Its seven tails swung behind it as it lithely made its progress. Its deep, silver fur rippled as its muscles tensed and relaxed, its amber eyes seeming to take in everything with a look too intelligent for a mere animal. Its rider was too far off for Starla to see much more than a white robe, trimmed in blue. But that was enough. The High Lord. She quickened her pace again.
“Look! High Lord Scar-face on his mutt,” jeered a teenage girl, from behind Starla.
“Shh!” hissed her friend. “The High Lord is likely to curse you for insulting him and his vapurix!”
“Yes, my father can't believe that they made someone of his questionable character High Lord,” said a third.
“I know! My family says a m—” the first girl said, then trailed off as she noted Starla listening. Starla stopped altogether this time, looking away from the teenagers.
“What are you doing?” A one-armed man silenced the girls' renewed jeers. “Do you want to end up like this?” He indicated his missing arm.
Starla stared, horrified at the implication. Her inner fire burned.
He maimed people?
Spurred by a need to know more, she stood on
tip-toe to see if she could better see the High Lord that everyone was so eager to avoid. Even the girls had seemed genuinely fearful, despite their name-calling. The silver-furred vapurix and its rider, and the carriage they trailed, were almost at Starla's position. The man wore a white robe, like the other Makhi, but his belt shone silver and his robe was edged with an intricate design of navy blue that ran from its high collar to the centre of his chest and then down along the hem. Each sleeve was edged in the design, too. She looked up to his face as he passed. It was framed by raven-black hair, which fell in soft curls down to his shoulders. He had a long, crescent-shaped scar curving from his hairline above his right eyebrow down across part of his nose, back over his right cheek and ending just under his right ear. He had a smaller scar running under his left eye and a couple running down his neck. His stunning, indigo eyes roved the crowd, warily. The air seemed to charge with electricity as he drew nearer.
Starla shivered as the carriage and vapurix turned towards the fountain. That gaze had been so cold.
“What are you doing!” Rya was at Starla's elbow, her illusion face an angry red.
“Sorry,” Starla mumbled, hurrying after her as they made their way to the edge of the crowd. The Royal carriage and the High Lord were in front of the fountain already. Starla understood now why the High Lord was to be avoided. He gave off an aura of great, unbreakable power. She shivered, remembering the fearful hush that had swept the crowd as he passed.
Rya reached the others and was looking back, annoyed that Starla hadn't kept up.
“All hail Galatia's King and Prince! All hail the Queen of Cosmaltia!” The Lord General's voice boomed across the silent square.
As one, the crowd dropped to one knee, heads bowed. Starla felt her skin rip as she was yanked down by a bony hand.
“Show some respect, outlander,” the old man scolded, as she glanced back, her green eyes accusing. He simply grunted and then bowed his head.
“Greeting to all Galatians and friends!” a kindly voice echoed out over the square.
“The people of Galatia greet their King and rejoice in his return!” chanted the crowd as one, rising to their feet.
Rubbing the scratches on her arm caused by the old man's nails, Starla remained crouched as she hurried over to where the Guardians stood a few feet back from the crowd. She stood as the King began his speech.
“What part of the plan was too difficult for you to understand?” Gaby was livid, her voice a coarse whisper. Starla began to apologise but Gaby held up a hand.
“Never mind. The King obviously arrived a little early. We can't deactivate the Stones any more, not with the High Lord on alert.” She sounded frustrated.
“So what, now? Do we hide in the City? Wait a little longer?” Starla asked, knowing that if they couldn't reach Astria, she would get none of the answers she longed for.
“No, Starla. Sorry,” Lua said.
“We have to get out of here quickly. Before he senses us,” Rya said. Jabbing a finger in the direction of the High Lord. “Just do as we do.”
Starla stifled her disappointment and watched as Alli, Lua, and Rya took three almost imperceptible steps backwards and vanished into the darkness of the alley.
“Your turn,” whispered Gaby, voice tense as she nudged Starla ahead of her. “And if you meant what you said, you may be able to carry on alone. I will try to get you to the northern gate on the Tower Wall. After this ceremony is over, it should be opened again. You just lay low until then.”
Taking a deep breath, Starla positioned herself, nodding at Gaby. Three small steps and … before she could make her final move, the towers all went dark and, simultaneously, the shimmering Shield vanished.
The pandemonium was instantaneous.
People began stampeding away from the gates, most screaming in terror about Kyron or Corruptions. The High Commander had her troops close in around the fountain to form a defensive circle, with only herself and the High Lord outside it. That keen indigo gaze momentarily locked on to Starla before Gaby hauled her into the alley.
“What happened? I thought you weren't … that you couldn't—” Starla spluttered, racing after Gaby.
“Someone else did that!” Gaby snapped, her face a mask of fear. “But maybe we can take advantage.”
The five of them spilled from the tunnel into a mercifully empty street.
“Do you think we can make it around to the north so Starla can hide?” Alli asked.
As if in answer to her question, both ends of the recently deserted street were suddenly blocked off by white-robed Makhi as they materialised out of the air. Instinctively, Starla turned back towards the dark alley. A silver point of light glowed there, growing larger as it drew near. She backed away.
The Guardians intoned a spell with one voice, hands flashing out, their Illusions vanishing. Walls of solid light swept away from them, effectively blocking off the advancing Makhi. Another wall of light blocked the alley entrance.
“Over the wall!” Rya ordered, hopping up and soaring higher, fire fuelling her trajectory.
“What!” spluttered Starla, whirling back from the alley. Surely they wouldn't abandon her?
“Get on this!” Lua called. “It is a wind disc. I will control it.”
At first, Starla couldn't see a thing as she glanced around frantically. Then she spotted a slightly yellow oval floating near her waist.
Jumping on, Starla was lifted into the air as the High Lord emerged from the alley. The Guardians' wall shattering ineffectually before him.
His intelligent eyes took in the scene in one sweep. He raised his hand over his staff, lips forming words Starla couldn't hear as she rose higher. A star of purple light appeared between his hand and staff. Looking up with grim determination, he slammed his staff into the ground.
Instantly, the light split into three. Two sparks raced towards the barriers, which shattered on contact. The third collided head-on with Starla's wind disc and it, too, shattered. The cobbled street raced up to meet her.
Starla opened her eyes as she stopped abruptly a few inches from the hard cobbles. Then, she was dropped in a heap at the High Lord's feet. She glanced up at him apprehensively, pulling her hood over her head again, and began edging away.
He took no notice. He was already busy with another spell. Starla glanced into the sky to see what was going on. The Guardians were all trying desperately to keep the Makhi busy as Gaby tried to reach her. The High Lord's staff narrowly missed Starla's hand as it struck the ground a second time.
Dismayed, Starla watched the sparks of red light surround the Sacrileons one by one, their counter spells useless. She sat on the cobbles, helpless, as her friends were subdued. Members of the Royal Guard rushed in, toting heavy chains that glowed red.
Starla was hauled to her feet by a pair of guards. Her desperation grew as she watched the now chained Sacrileons being herded away by the Makhi.
“Keep your promise!” Gaby yelled, her voice filled with fury.
Starla tried to nod, to call back, but her mind seemed numb with shock as the Makhi dragged the Sacrileons away. The High Lord had beaten them so easily.
Think! Starla tried to quell the panic that would only make this situation worse. Signalling the men holding Starla to wait, the High Commander moved over to the High Lord.
“High Lord Larkel,” she gave a light bow, “the King will need you in the throne room.”
“Of course, High Commander D'Ordeley.” The High Lord tilted his head politely, his voice was deep and steady. “You will take care of that one? I can sense no magic in her.” He barely glanced in Starla's direction. The Commander nodded, then turned back to her men, giving them orders as to which prison they were to take Starla. As soon as the High Lord had disappeared around the corner, Starla wriggled free of her captors. She yanked Aimee from inside her cloak in the same motion, ripping the buttons in her haste.
“Go, Aimee. Fly! Find her! Tell her what happened!” she said in French, throwing A
imee into the air as the guards yanked her back by the hood of her cloak.
This time, they made quick work of binding her hands behind her back.
“Take her to the Tower dungeons,” the Commander ordered, noting her hair, eyes and clothing with surprise, “and track that creature.”
On hearing the commotion, the High Lord dashed back down the street and around the corner. He spotted a little brown bird, unlike any he knew, dart over the roof of a house. Looking down the street, he caught a glimmer of golden hair before the guards blocked the woman from view.
Chapter 5
The Dungeons
Starla sat curled up in the corner of her dank cell, wrists in chains. She had been marched by the Royal Guards into the Imperial Circle to a squat, alabaster building with glass soldiers adorning the roof. She had been unable to take in the wonder of it before they marched her through the door. Now, she was beneath it, in a warren of tunnels that smelled like the cave that she and the other village children had found, once. Damp, musty, and close. She smelled soot, too, and wood smoke. Flickering firelight came from torches set at intervals in the stone walls. She rubbed her tear- streaked cheeks on her knees. The smell of the wood burning had taken her right back home, to the people she had left there.
Starla sat up, stiffly. She wasn't certain how much time had passed, but she was feeling very weak and hungry so she guessed it was morning and the effects of the hurik were finally wearing off. She toyed with her baby bracelet, fighting the exhaustion that was stealing over her body. She had been surprised when they had not searched her. A bored-looking Makhi had sent a wave of green mist toward her, which turned to silver as it faded and declared her safe. They had brought her here, given her a thick blanket that felt almost like wool, and left. She raised her eyes to the far side of her cell, the only wall that wasn't made of solid, grey stone and she recoiled in fright. A misshapen figure loomed there. It unlocked a small section in the bars, its eyes glowing like a cat's