by J. A. Comley
“Don't … don't,” the Baron growled, pacing rapidly before the dangling High Lord.
Larkel continued. “Your wife … I … we explained it all before.”
The Baron gave a wordless cry of rage. “Never speak of her! Never.”
Larkel shook his head, then wished he hadn't as the pain spiked. “How can you not see? How can you side with Kyron to destroy Galatia?”
“Destroy?” The Baron sounded calmer. “No, Larkel. I will rule Galatia. I will be its King. Kyron has promised it to me. He had promised to restore Kara to me, too. But when I returned to save her, you had already killed her!”
Larkel couldn't help the wave of pity that flowed through him.
Perhaps if I told Braxton … but no, it wouldn't do to give him false hope.
“Please, Braxton. Listen to reason,” he said, trying not to sound patronizing. “Do you really think Kyron will give you Galatia, leaving it unharmed? He is a Demilain Destroyer. He only claims what he has annihilated and any survivors are mindless, disposable slaves in his army. Look at what he did to Cosmaltia! Most of Kara's family died there at his hand.”
The ensuing silence was suddenly broken by a slow clapping.
Kyron moved, silent as a shadow, to the edge of the pit, his eyes locked on Larkel.
“You,” he ordered, barely sparing the Baron a glance, “go. Some of your Galatian spies will be here soon. Debrief them.”
The Baron hurried through the still open door. Only Kyron could open it without a sound. He disappeared into its shadows, a haunted look in his grey eyes.
“I applaud your final efforts to save Galatia,” Kyron said. He clapped once more. “Ah, Larkel Dios. Once, the great and powerful High Lord of the Makhi Order of Trianon. Now, nothing more than a dead man walking.” Kyron's cruel smile returned as he raised his staff.
The chains around Larkel turned red and his screams rent the air. The smell of burning flesh drifted around him as he quietened his agony. The chains grew cold again.
“However, it was a wasted effort. That fool believes anything I tell him,” Kyron continued, his mirthless laugh echoing oddly off around the chamber. “Weak-minded mortals.”
“Braxton has been a fool,” Larkel agreed, his indigo gaze locked on Kyron. “But he is not as weak as you seem to think!” he said, defending the Braxton who had been his childhood friend, the one at whose wedding he had been best man, the Baron he hoped was still inside the vengeance-crazed shell that had tried to kill him. “Every Galatian will fight you. They will never surrender!”
Kyron looked terrifying as he raised his staff again, a low hiss escaping his teeth.
The chains burned hotter and deeper than before. Larkel barely recognised the sounds coming from his mouth before it was over. His blood sizzled on the metal as it cooled. He tried to hold onto consciousness, feeling his power leaking out in a small drizzle to heal his body.
“Oh, I do hope you are right. About the not surrendering,” Kyron continued. Ignoring Larkel's occasional whimper of pain, he looked up. “You are stronger than the Baron claimed.”
Larkel felt his trickle of power stop as Kyron amplified the binding on the chains.
“Still, you are also more stupid if you would honestly defend a traitor who very nearly cut your head off.” His cruel smile was playing at the edges of his lips again as he pointed to one side.
Larkel felt his blood go cold. He drew in a ragged breath as he spotted the Sacred Stones lying against the wall of the chamber.
“Those are cloaked by me now. So, tell me, what chance does your precious Galatia stand? I have their Stones, their High Lord, and they no longer have their Inagium Queen, either.”
“You haven't won yet, you bastard!” Larkel had wanted to shout it, but his voice was weak, fading as he tried to hold on to consciousness.
“Your pretty little girlfriend was just as disrespectful as you,” Kyron mused, changing the subject as he moved to the very edge of the pit. “She put up quite a fight to protect her amulet. Not that it did her much good in the end.” Kyron's laugh froze the blood in Larkel's veins.
“You're lying! No, Starla … she would never have come here! I know the guard will have found her!” Larkel said, half-shouting, half-whimpering.
“Am I?” Kyron asked, his malicious smile revealing his sharp teeth. “Then where did I get this?” He tossed something golden into the air, then brought it to hover just in front of Larkel's face, letting it spin slowly.
Larkel felt like Kyron had just ripped his heart out through his chest. It was the golden bracelet he had given her as a Trimoon gift.
“No. What did you do to her?” It was meant to be an accusation, but Larkel sounded like he was begging.
Kyron laughed briefly. “Did, doing, it's all irrelevant.” His voice sounded highly amused by the pain in Larkel's. “All that really matters is that nothing is in my way, now. Soon Galatia will be a charred relic, any survivors, my thralls.”
Larkel's screams contained more than just his physical pain as the chains burned again. They contained his loss, everything taken by Kyron. Now Starla, too.
Kyron turned and headed towards the door, the chains cooling as he stepped away from the pit.
Larkel never took his eyes off the bracelet. As it glowed in the light of the fire, he remembered how Starla's hair had looked, splayed out across her pillow on the morning after their night together, and her eyes, glittering like jewels. He felt the tears streaming down his face.
As the edges of Kyron's robe fluttered and disappeared into the shadows beyond the door, Starla's bracelet plummeted into the seething lava below. Sobs racked Larkel's body until, mercifully, the physical pain overrode his mind and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
Chapter 17
The Dome of Stars
The terrible, searing pain had disappeared entirely some time ago. Now, Starla felt nothing. It was very peaceful here. Sometimes, she thought that she was floating or flying. All around her, no matter which way she looked, there were thousands upon thousands of stars, stretching on forever. At one point, she wondered vaguely if this was a kind of heaven, then decided it didn't matter. The peace was too perfect to question.
Every now and then, sounds would swirl around her. Musical sounds, almost like voices, but they never seemed to make any sense. Still, she enjoyed their music.
And then the beautiful, starlit world was gone, swallowed up in darkness. For the first time since arriving in this place, Starla felt fear in her mind. Leering out of the blackness came a red-haired man, his mirthless laugh freezing the air as he raised his pointed staff.
“No!” Starla screamed, bolting up right.
Dizziness overwhelmed her as the floating sensation vanished and gravity pressed down on her, once more. Starla felt sure she was going to be sick as she fell back again and landed on something incredibly soft.
“Hush, easy now,” a musical voice said, “easy.”
Starla realised her eyes were shut and forced them open again. She tried to focus on the person speaking but everything was blurry. She blinked a few times. Her sight cleared by degrees, the vague, shadowy forms beginning to make more sense.
The first thing she could clearly see was the enormous, puffy white bed she was cradled in. It seemed easily large enough for all the Guardians put together. It had tall, white spiral posts that pointed to a glass ceiling, beyond which swirled thousands of stars in a dusty haze. Then the origin of the musical voice. The creature perched on the edge of the bed was as familiar as she was strange.
Familiar because her obsidian skin and intense violet stare immediately marked her as a Sacrileon. Her white curls were tied up in a high ponytail and, as she shifted slightly under Starla's scrutiny, the orange stars marking her skin glittered faintly. She was a Guardian, but not one that Starla knew.
Starla's head pounded as her chaotic thoughts tried to settle into a pattern that made sense.
“What, where, are you Beky?” Starla asked, her voice fa
int. She remembered all of that terrible night, the pressing darkness of Abyss Valley, Kyron's curse, the intense, searing pain.
So, I am dead, Starla thought. Sorrow and pain over been forced to leave Larkel tormented her mind. Dead. And Gaby's dead sister is talking to me.
Starla closed her eyes and was floating again. The starry emptiness peaceful once more. Something tugged at her. She didn't like the feeling. She tried to shrug it away, but it followed her. She had to do something, protect something, but she couldn't remember what. The tugging vanished, but the nagging sensation of work left undone remained.
The Star!
Starla's eyes flew open. She was still in the white bed but there was no Sacrileon perched on it with her. She looked around. It was disorientating. She was certain that she was awake, now, but she was still surrounded by thousands of stars.
She seemed to be in the centre of a hemisphere. Beyond the dome of glass surrounding her was an endless stretch of stars in a dusty sky. She began to register a stiff pain in her limbs. She sighed and move her hand over her body under the covers, sliding it towards her neck. Her face flushed a brilliant red. She was naked. Who had undressed her? The question vanished as her fingers found no chain around her neck. Her brief elation at probably not being dead was replaced by crushing guilt.
Where is the Star? Slowly, ice-cold fear began to spread out from Starla's chest as details from Abyss Valley returned.
Her gasping breaths began to echo around her as the panic threatened to swallow her whole. Yet the giant bed and her unclothed state had her remembering some of Kyron's more sickening promises. The Baron's desires, Kyron's own musings about what he would do to her after the Baron got bored.
Calm down, she ordered herself. She was alive. Larkel was back in the City, probably worried sick. She would fight. She would get back to him. Her whole future with him was something she couldn't bare to lose.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal as she shut her eyes, imagining that future: the beautiful wedding; the nights spent in his arms; maybe even a little raven-haired baby.
She would have to be careful. She needed to try and find the Star because if she escaped without it, Kyron would come and take that future from her. Perhaps she could fashion some outfit from the sheets.
A soft, scraping noise reached her ears. She slowly sat up, being careful to keep the blanket tucked around her, and looked towards the door furtively from her nest of sheets as it opened inward a crack.
Starla's heart leapt into her throat and then dropped out through her feet. The head that peered around the door was framed by long, blood-red hair, and was taller than it should be. The strange, dual-coloured eyes fixed on Starla and the lips parted over sharp, pointed teeth.
Her hands balled into fists as she prepared to fight before a force pinned her down on her back, hands flat to her sides.
“Please, please, calm down!” the being said, sweeping into the room, hands held palms up in surrender. The force vanished.
Starla took a moment to realise that the curdling screams she was hearing were coming from her own mouth. She snapped it shut and looked at the being again.
“I am sorry I frightened you,” the newcomer said, stopping just shy of the bed. The friendliness of her smile was ruined a little by her jagged teeth.
No, definitely not Kyron, Starla thought to herself firmly, still trying to quell the new wave of panic.
For one, this looked female. Her blood-red hair swept all the way down to her ankles in a million tiny braids. Her eyes held more turquoise and less mauve than his, and their gaze was kinder. She, too, stood impossibly tall, towering over the bed, but her markings ran along the right side of her golden face and body and moved in a gentle, twirling pattern, like sprouting vines, though with no leaves or flowers.
“Wh… who are you?” Starla stammered, still clutching the sheets tightly around her, although she had a good idea what the answer would be.
“I am Ezira,” she said, her black dress glittering as she moved slowly to sit at the edge of the bed. “I am Kyron's twin, if you like. His other half.”
Starla nodded, her guess confirmed. Of course she was. Who else would she be?
“Why did you pin me to the bed?” Starla asked, the panic it had caused not fully out of her system yet.
“You're awake again,” trilled a musical voice from the door before Ezira could answer.
It was the same Sacrileon as before. Her short, red skirt and belly top complemented her orange markings. She was carrying a white garment in her hands and a pair of dark-red boots looped over her fingers.
“I thought you might want to get dressed.” She smiled brightly.
Before Starla could answer, Mistress Ezira rose.
“Yes, please get dressed without delay, young Starla,” the Demilain Creator said, “You have been unconscious for only one day but much has happened.” She paused at the door. “Your amulet survived the incident.”
“Wait,” Starla demanded. “I want to know where my amulet is, why you held me down with magic, why I am naked and how I got here. And where here is,” she tacked on, realising she had no idea how far from Larkel she really was.
Ezira arched a red eyebrow, her eyes going almost as cold as Kyron's. “You are remarkably like your grandmother. Mortals should learn not to make demands in a Demilain's realm.” She swept back out of the door, no hint that her feet even touched the floor.
Starla stared at the door, as if she could manage to recall Ezira by sheer indignation.
“I'm Fey, by the way,” the Sacrileon said, gliding to the bed and laying down the clothes, her knee-high purple boots clicking out a soft rhythm. “One of the Head Guardians of Aurelia. You are still in Trianon but closer to Aurelia than Galatia. In the Dome of Stars. Mistress Ezira's home.”
Starla turned her emerald gaze on the Sacrileon as she placed her boots on the floor.
“Can you answer my other questions?”
Fey looked up, a small smile on her mouth at Starla's tone.
“Astria has your amulet. She has been guarding it ever since you arrived,” she said, then continued, even though Starla was gaping at her. “You must have wanted to harm her. That is why you were held down and why it vanished once the desire passed. Ezira has been using her powers to help heal you.
The hesitancy in Fey's voice reminded Starla of her last clear memory. Kyron's face livid, his words murmuring the spell that would rip the life from her.
“How did—” Starla wasn't sure how to end that question. How did they find her? How did she survive?
Fey seemed to be able to read her mind. “How did we find you? Or, how did you survive?” she smiled and shrugged. “The answer to both is your amulet. It sent an emergency signal to Ezira, probably as soon as you entered Abyss Valley. It also absorbed most of the curse that struck you.”
Starla nodded mutely. “And my clothes?”
“They didn't fare so well. It was also easier to treat you like this. It really was a very potent curse. No one here but Ezira has the ability to treat such power. If not for her, you would not have been saved.”
“What about Galatia? If I am near Aurelia now—” Starla trailed off, her head spinning at the realisation that in one day she had not only cheated death, but moved planet too.
Oh Larkel. I'll be home soon.
“I need to get back to the Royal City, immediately. How do I do that? And where—?”
“All your questions will be answered soon,” Fey said, cutting her off. She patted the folded white dress. “Here, I will leave you to get dressed and I'll let the others know that you are awake. They'll be dying for news!”
“The others?” Starla asked, still feeling befuddled, but Fey was already gone.
She jumped out of the bed, then collapsed back on it as a wave of dizziness engulfed her. She fought against the black spots trying to steal her vision.
Sighing, Starla tossed the bedding aside and stood up, more slowly this time. As her aware
ness returned, so did the pain. She felt awful. Every inch of her hurt and she felt incredibly weak. Sure that she must look as horrid as she felt, she walked over to the mirror. Her eyes widened in wonder. Her hair was soft and billowy, her curls glowing bright red-gold. Her face seemed to glow, too. They must have washed her while she was unconscious. Feeling the burn of embarrassment in her cheeks, she cast her eyes over the rest of her reflection. She gasped.
Small cuts and bruises adorned the rest of her silky looking skin, except for her right arm. She shuddered as she remembered the sickening snap and mind numbing pain. Her forearm was almost entirely a seething mass of black, blue and purple.
An angry red scar slashed down from her left shoulder, stopping between her breasts. She felt the hatred and nausea swell in her stomach. She would bare the scar of Kyron's attack forever, just as Larkel did.
Swiftly, she turned from her reflection, tears stinging her eyes as she thought of Larkel. Mechanically, she pulled the garment on and slipped on her new boots. The tears overflowed as she clipped the necklace he had given her into place, her longing for Larkel sweeping through her.
But I am alive, she told herself firmly. I will see him again, soon.
She walked over to the mirror again. The dress Fey had brought was a single-sleeved tunic of bright white material. Like Ezira's black dress, it had two thigh-high slits along each side. The single sleeve was not white. It was made of brilliant emerald thread, knitted into an intricate design of leaves and swirls. She felt another pang of longing for Larkel, an almost desperate need to have his strong arms wrapped tightly around her. She turned around. The green pattern continued midway down the back of the dress where it trailed off to a point. Using the mirror, she tied the emerald sash that was stitched to the dress in a neat bow on her left hip, leaving the ends long. Starla turned to face the mirror again. The sash cinched her waist nicely and the boots were actually very comfortable, their soft leather stopping just under her knees.
“Well, are you planning on saying hello, or are you just going to stare at yourself all day?” came a light voice from behind her.