The Falling Star (The Trianon Series Book 1)

by J. A. Comley

  “And until this group is formed?” She remembered too well the panic that had spread through the square the last time the Shield failed.

  “Redkin and I are handling it.”

  Ah, that explains the strain around his eyes, the slightly distracted look he gets every now and then.

  He dropped her hand and changed the subject. “You really should have told me it was your birthday. I could've bought you a present.”

  Starla let it drop. The war, Corruptions in the City, the threat of Kyron breaking through the Shield, these were all things she didn't want to mar the day.

  “Larkel, it was perfect. For once, I simply enjoyed my birthday without one thought as to why certain people weren't there.

  She moved away, sitting down on the soft grass.

  Silently he joined her, a hopeful thought blossoming in his indigo eyes.

  “Starla, how old are you?” He explained quickly as she raised a questioning eyebrow, “It's just, well, you're named after a Cosmaltian bird, you seem to have magical abilities whose magical store I can't sense in you like I can in a Makhi or Inagium, and by your memories, I got the sense that you think your birth parents may be from here, or had come here.”

  “What does any of that have to do with my age?” she said, knowing that he was the reason that her feelings about possibly being Galatian or Cosmaltian had changed. When she had first arrived, she had feared not being human, never being able to go home. Now, she didn't want to go back. She didn't want to be the orphan girl. She didn't want to marry a man who she felt was like her brother, simply because it was expected. She only feared things that would separate her from the man beside her.

  She sighed, watching his curiosity at the play of emotions on her face. “Larkel, I'm twenty-one today. I have aged perfectly normally for a human up until now.”

  He took in the sadness in her eyes and the hope in his seemed to brighten.

  “Starla,” he said, excitement in his voice, “the people of these planets can age like humans until some time around their eighteenth year. It is only then that their metabolism begins to change and everything slows down. The latest anyone began to slow was in their twenty-first year.”

  “My family thought I was born around twenty-one years ago. A doctor was called to check my health when they found me, and he said he thought I was around six months old at the time.” She slid her baby bracelet from her pocket. “This was around my wrist when I was found.”

  In a silver flash of light, the High Lord's staff appeared in his waiting hand. Taking the bracelet, he murmured a few quick words. It began to glow white.

  “See?” he said, his excitement overflowing. “This was made with metal from our Light Meadows, before the war. And the engraving looks like Brosney work, Cosmaltian—”

  “Metalsmiths,” Starla finished. “I've been asking around the refugee camp, but no-one knew anything more than that.”

  He chuckled, suddenly understanding all the murmurings of Starla's name he had heard coming from the tents.

  Starla's eyes sparkled with joy and hope. “Do you think my parents fled to Earth when the war started?”

  He frowned.

  “Perhaps, if they could. The war began twenty-one years ago,” he said, sitting up straighter. “It is unclear how, exactly, but despite the lock down on planetary travel, hundreds of people are simply missing. With any luck, they made a jump somewhere else. Otherwise, Kyron probably has them.” He moved and knelt right in front of her, his knees touching hers. “There is a Healing pattern that will allow me to tell if your body's ageing has slowed.”

  Starla felt fear and doubt grip her.

  Do I really want to know? Seeing the hope sparkling in his eyes and all that that made her hopeful for, she nodded.

  “Okay.”

  Face suddenly all concentration, Larkel placed one hand gently above her heart. He felt its beat increase to match his own. With the other hand, he carefully leaned the topmost crystal of his staff against her left temple. Closing his eyes, he sent the spell into her body, looking for the tell-tale signs.

  Larkel broke the connection and leaned back. The expression on his face made words unnecessary. Starla felt the tears stinging her eyes. She was human, after all, and still ageing fast.

  “Starla, this doesn't make sense. Your magic and the bracelet—” he said, mind racing through possibilities. He shied away from Soreiaphin legends. “As far as we know, you're right at the limit of when your ageing can possibly start to slow. Maybe the doctor was wrong, and you're younger than you seem. Or, perhaps your birth was hurried along with magic. It is dangerous, but with a war looming—” he began, sounding happier.

  “No.” She stopped him and rose to her feet, not sure how much longer she could hold back the crushing disappointment the failed test had brought. “Thank you, Larkel, for a wonderful day. Good night. See you tomorrow?” She didn't turn from the cottage door.

  He rose fluidly and caught her hand as she reached the handle. The pain in her eyes had been obvious. “I'm sorry. Don't give up. There are still other possibilities.”

  She gave him her rarest smile, the one he seemed to like best, the one that hinted at some great, secret happiness. and squeezed his hand gently.

  Smiling in return, he leaned in and gave her a gentle but lingering kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispered in her ear, “see you tomorrow.” He stepped back. Her emerald eyes were wide, with surprise, or guilt over that man from Earth?

  He let her go and felt empty as the cottage door shut her from his view. Turning away, he saw her baby bracelet still shining in the grass. Picking it up, he raised his hand to knock on the door, then he thought better of returning it right away. It would have a maker's mark on it. If he could find out who made it, he could help her track down her family. That would be a good birthday present to give her. It would also settle the question of her heritage, once and for all.

  Taking one last look at the cottage, the light of a lamp now glowing within, the High Lord strode back towards the opulent manor of his friends.

  Starla sat in a comfortable blue arm chair, watching the oil of the lamp burn slowly away. Human. It didn't make sense.

  Humans don't have latent magic do they? She shook her head.

  If she hadn't gone and foolishly fallen for the High Lord, it wouldn't matter. She had only stayed here to find out about her family and hand over the Star to someone who knew what to do with it.

  Then I'm supposed to go back.

  She sighed at the deep emptiness that accompanied that thought. Back to being the odd orphan girl. Back to Raoul. How could she ever change her feelings towards him, now? Deep down, she knew she couldn't, not now that she had felt actual love.

  Her bitter laugh was cut short as someone knocked on the door.

  “Lia, is everything all right?” Starla asked. According to the amount of oil left in the lamp, it had been over two hours since the High Lord had left.

  “Yes, sorry to bother you, but I saw the light and thought you might still be awake.” She smiled and, hanging her own lamp on a hook, turned to the darkness by the door and lifted up two packages. “Happy birthday.”

  Starla looked from the presents up to the kind brown eyes of her new friend. “How did—”

  “Larkel,” Lia said, half-rolling her eyes with something between motherly and sisterly affection. “You didn't really think you could tell him it was your birthday and expect him to do nothing? The larger one is from him, the other, from us.”

  “Thank you, you really didn't have to … thank you.” Starla smiled, a sudden, happy thought popping into her head as she accepted the presents. “But you could have waited until morning.”

  Lia laughed. “I have known Larkel for many years now. First as the play-mate of one of my older sons, and then as a man, and our friend, too. He said you needed to receive your gift before the morning because you'd need it tomorrow. After so many years, it is easier to just go with it. He always has a good
reason. Have a good evening, Starla.”

  Starla bit down the question she wanted to ask. It could wait. “Good night, Lia. Thank you again. And thank Markis too.”

  Lia nodded and waved goodnight.

  Back inside, Starla carefully opened her gifts. Feeling her anticipation grow, Starla undid the golden bow on Larkel's gift. Inside was the deep-purple dress with the silver embroidery that she had turned down that first day, at Savianna's. She shook her head at the opulent tunic, wondering what occasion could have her needing to dress like Galatian higher nobility.

  Markis and Lia had bought her a beautiful silver Galatian clip, with purple jewels forming the centres of three carved flowers. A perfect match to Larkel's gift.

  Wondering what his plans were, Starla clung to the happy thought that Lia had brought with her; Larkel's best friend was a human man who was several thousand years old. With a little of their elixir, she could stay young, too.

  Chapter 10

  The High Lord

  “Where is she?” demanded the High Lord, bursting into the mansion.

  “Larkel, please, calm down,” Markis said, following his friend as he rushed upstairs. “She is ill. Lia and I fell ill when we came here, too. The change, it—”

  “Markis, you and your wife fell ill within hours of arrival,” he said, his indigo eyes casting about, as if he could find which room she was in by seeing through the muralled walls. “She has been here for nearly three weeks. And last night, she was perfectly healthy.”

  Markis' eyebrows rose and Larkel felt his cheeks warm as he realised how his words sounded. “I checked her ageing, to see if it had slowed,” he muttered.

  Markis cleared his throat to stifle his chortle, then pointed to a door. “She's in there.”

  Larkel felt his heart twist. Starla lay in the bed, clearly unconscious even as she writhed and moaned.

  “Why didn't you call me sooner?” he demanded, noting with concern the blueish tone to Starla's usually glowing skin.

  Shaneulia raised an eyebrow at his demanding tone and continued to crush some herbs with her mortar and pestle. “We didn't know until an hour ago. Elthea went to invite her to breakfast and found her like this. She had a terrible fever. I have managed to break it with herbal remedies, but it keeps returning, worse than before.”

  While she spoke, Larkel had moved to sit on the edge of the bed and laid one hand above Starla's heart. The other held his staff to her temple as he had done last night.

  He sucked air in through his teeth. Poison. Poison specifically designed for her body. And in its wake, death, death everywhere. Starla was losing this battle, fast.

  “Get that shift off of her!” he barked, yanking the mortar and pestle from Shaneulia's hands. “Now! And wash her down. Quickly!” He reached for her wrists.

  “Larkel!” Markis barked, stepping between his friend and his wife. “Calm down.”

  “We don't have time!” Larkel said, indigo eyes imploring. “Please—”

  “Get out. Both of you, move,” Lia said, rushing them out the room and shutting the door so she could do as the High Lord ordered.

  Outside, Larkel caught his friend's angry look.

  “I'm sorry, Markis. She's dying,” Larkel said, voice breaking, even as he paced before the door.

  Markis breathed his anger out. “Poison on the shift?”

  Larkel nodded.

  “Will Elthea—”

  “It was made specifically for her. It won't affect anyone else.” His teeth snapped together in fury, then his face crumpled, “I can't Heal her, Markis,” he said, his voice anguished.

  Hearing the desperation and torment in his friend's voice, Markis placed a hand on Larkel's shoulder and stopped his pacing. “If any one can Heal her, you can,” he said.

  “Here,” Shaneulia said, opening the door and handing Markis the shift. “I guess you'll want tests run.” Behind her, Starla lay in a new shift of lilac, looking no better.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Larkel whispered, looking apologetically at Lia.

  She patted him on the arm. “We will work as fast as we can.”

  She and Markis disappeared down the stairs.

  Sitting back on the edge of the bed, Larkel cast his spell again. He couldn't risk trying to Heal her. Kyron's poisons were magically enhanced. The wrong Healing pattern would kill both the sufferer and the Makhi, if he didn't disconnect. But he could give her body energy. The stronger she was, the longer she could fight the poison.

  ***

  “I think we have it!” Lia called over to her husband, as they worked in their laboratory in the basement of their home.

  The shift had been shredded and put through a contraption Markis and Larkel had built together. It broke down the poison and mapped out its magical pattern. The exact opposite pattern would destroy the poison.

  “Excellent,” Markis said, looking over the pattern that had formed. Over the years, with mistakes costing more lives than he could bear, they had figured out how to spot the real pattern from among the layers of duds. “Yes, this is the one.”

  “You know he is in love with her,” Lia said, shutting off the machines.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Does she know he—”

  “No, Lia. Look, I spoke with him. He knows how we feel about it. I just—” Markis sighed. “He hasn't been this happy or hopeful in sixteen years. I won't interfere or take that away.”

  Shaneulia frowned, “It will be worse the longer he waits, or if she finds out some other way. Its not like it is a secret. The whole City knows.”

  A rattling noise drew her eyes to the darkest part of the basement as she spoke. A shadowy form seemed to be pacing there, its footsteps whispering against the stone. “Does she know anything? About the true state of this war?”

  Sighing, she gave a reluctant nod at her husband's silence. It was Larkel's responsibility to speak. If Markis had already given him their view, then they had done all they could.

  Working quickly, Larkel memorised the pattern of the poison and carefully composed a Healing spell able to counter it. His head ached. He knew he was spending too much of his energy. His magic was split between keeping Starla alive and maintaining the Bonds for his Shield, both hugely draining. Normally, his magic would unconsciously heal the minor damage taken by the strain of using such vast stores. But he needed even that small trickle now to accomplish his task. He redirected his self-healing towards Starla and now his vital organs were taking damage as energy was starting to be drawn from the very cells of his body to help power his magic. He pushed the pain away. He wasn't going to lose her.

  Feeling more nervous than he had in a decade, Larkel released his spell into Starla's body. He felt his body shudder as energy drained from his cells faster than he could recuperate.

  He paid it no heed. He could heal himself later, if there was a later. He watched, waiting for signs that it had worked. Faintly, as if from miles away, he heard Shaneulia's voice imploring him to disconnect. If he did, and the pattern was wrong, Starla would die but he would survive. Not worth it.

  Suddenly, he was yanked away from her, the connection severing so abruptly that it set his head spinning.

  Slowly regaining stability, Larkel tried to free himself from Markis' iron grasp but his body was so drained, it was like trying escape against steel. He pushed with a little magic, feeling his body re-coil from the new strain.

  “No! Larkel, no!” Markis heaved, struggling to hold his friend back. “Galatia cannot lose another High Lord to this war!”

  Larkel froze, Markis' words opening old wounds, then he slumped.

  Markis let go, watching Larkel warily as he staggered against the wall. His friend looked broken, eyes fixed on the woman.

  Slowly, the blue tone of Starla's skin faded away and she took on the appearance of being sound asleep as her body stopped writhing.

  Shuffling forward, the High Lord laid a hand to her heart and felt an overwhelming relief as
it beat steadily beneath his palm. Lifting his staff, he repeated his earlier spell, searching for any signs of poison. It was all gone. Gently he Healed the remaining damage the poison had caused.

  Opening his eyes, he felt tears leak out. “She's Healed,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

  “She needs to rest. And so do you. How much of your energy did you give her?” Markis asked, seeing the dark circles that had suddenly appeared below his friend's eyes.

  Reluctantly, Larkel rose, knowing he would collapse soon anyway, and let Shaneulia keep watch.

  “I know I would never convince you to go home, so stay here. Eben's room is empty. He sleeps down at the refugee camp in case anyone needs help at night,” Markis said, opening a door two doors down from the room Starla occupied.

  As Larkel lay down, waiting for the exhaustion to claim him, he remembered his sheer panic at the thought of losing her. Markis was right, he had to tell her, but then he might lose her, anyway.

  ***

  “Whoa, slowly now. You will still be very weak,” Lia's gentle voice came through the fog in Starla's mind.

  “What happened?” she asked, her words a little slurred.

  “You were poisoned,” Lia said, after Starla's eyes had become focused. “Here, drink this. You have been unconscious for two days. Your body needs food.”

  Starla drank the thick broth slowly. Ignoring the bitter aftertaste, she looked to Lia, waiting for answers.

  “The shift you went to sleep in on your birthday was laced in poison. We found you unconscious in the morning and called Larkel.”

  Starla found herself looking around the room, half expecting to find him there, sleeping in a chair.

  “He's downstairs. He needed his own recuperation time. He gave you a lot of his energy when he Healed you,” she added, a strange, almost pained look on her face.

  “Thank you. All of you,” Starla smiled weakly. “May I get up?”