by J. A. Comley
“She is right,” Zerina murmured from beside him. “But you shouldn't go alone,” she added to Naleiya, her amber eyes forestalling any argument.
“And what makes you think you'll do better than they?” hissed Niden harshly, even as his heart broke for his sister and friend. “What makes you so special that Kyron won't just capture or kill you, too?”
Before Niden could continue his rant, Naleiya shoved her brother's staff under his nose. “My brother, the most powerful Makhi ever, is out there. Your sister, a powerful Soreiaphin, is out there. The remaining Guardians and their Sacred Stones are out there,” she spat, counting all their strategic as well as personal losses should they do nothing. “And despite all the marvellous bravado displayed a moment ago, you know we cannot win.”
Niden shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowing as he fought to calm himself. “I know all that, Naleiya. I know.” His voice sounded pained, but no less resolute. “But how could I just allow you to walk into Kyron's arms? He has stolen enough from us already.” He sighed, looking out through the door where another of his sisters, thought to be dead, had been dragged out.
“I wasn't asking permission,” Naleiya said tartly. “It is our only real chance, Niden. You know it is.”
Zerina was nodding. “If we can free them, get the Sacred Stones and the other half of the amulet, then maybe we can win. Without that, we'll just prolong the end.”
Niden was shaking his head in frustration as they ganged up on him. “All I am hearing are ifs and maybes. Hopes that we'd be foolish to count on. Naleiya, who will lead the Order with you gone? Zerina, who will spur on Cosmaltia's remaining men and women if you are gone? How will I be able to even think without you here?” he whispered, stroking his fingers down her cheek.
“You are a strong man, Niden. You will manage. And we will return for our people,” Zerina smiled.
“It's madness!” Niden huffed.
“Yes, suicidal madness,” Zerina agreed calmly. “Perhaps we should have tried that in Cosmaltia.”
“You hope you'll return. You don't know what will happen,” Niden said, unmovable. “I do not agree to this. I order you to stay put,” he said firmly, ignoring Zerina's arched eyebrow. “The King and Queen will be on my side. Stay here. We will discuss it with them. By the royal command of Galatia, you will not move, until the King has passed judgement.”
Taking Naleiya's curt nod for a yes, the Prince moved swiftly back up the hall to alert his grandparents. Of course he wanted Starla and the others safe, but at what price?
“The quickest way there,” Naleiya muttered to herself as soon as he was out of ear shot. She whizzed through her knowledge of spells, ignoring Valana's silver stare where she stood across the room, looking at a list of people with magical abilities.
“Naleiya,” Shaneulia's voice cautioned, then she grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. I heard most of that and Prince Niden has a point. Even if they are still alive by the time you get there, Kyron would not leave them unguarded. He could even be there himself. What chance would you stand?” Concern filled her brown eyes.
“ThedoortothechambertheyareinisguardedinsidethereseemstobeonlyoneguardKyronisnottherealthoughHenycanalwaystellusifthatchangestherestofthefortressismostlyempty,” Flek said in a rush, almost bouncing in his haste to be off.
Biki explained quickly before anyone could ask. “The door to where they are being held is guarded. One guard inside. The rest of the fortress is mostly empty and Kyron is busy planning battle strategy in his tower. Heny can warn us if he moves.”
“You see?” Naleiya said, her eyes hard. “I cannot stay here and do nothing.” She edged for the side door.
“Not to repeat Niden's words, but what makes your attempt any more likely to succeed than Starla's?” Shaneulia asked, her hands still curled around the vial of transparent elixir.
Naleiya smiled. “Unlike them, we know exactly where in Kyron's fortress we need to go. We have Heny monitoring his movements. We are going in with inside information, not blind.”
“If you are captured, High Lady—” Markis had come up behind his wife.
“I could buy us minutes, maybe, and nothing more!” Naleiya said in an exasperated whisper. “It is a risk, yes, but one that may earn us a victory if we are successful. And we need our High Lord, not me. We need the Guardians and their Stones. We need Starla and her amulet.”
“You're not thinking of taking it?” Shaneulia asked, eyes widening.
“Of course not. I know this may fail, but staying won't win us this war.”
“You are right,” Valana's voice came from behind Naleiya. “I did not think the people here were as brave as we. You are not trained as warriors from birth,” she said, her silver eyes gleaming, no insult in her words, just plain fact. “But I see now that you at least have warrior hearts. I will come with you, my swords and bow shall aid you.” She smiled, holding up a Guiding Stone.
A Guiding Stone, a perfect magical anomaly.
Naleiya swallowed her surprise and nodded her thanks. “I am going to Abyss Valley.” She took the carved crystal.
“Wait!” whispered Litzie. “Here, I have Darkness Mantles.” Naleiya, Zerina and Valana all took one. The animals huddled under another.
Naleiya looked once over at Prince Niden before hurrying through the side door, everyone following.
“My husband will keep them distracted,” Valana said, then glanced at the crystal. “Think of the place we must go, or, well, somewhere outside and close to the place we must go.”
“I guess we are all traitors, now, too,” Zerina said wryly.
Naleiya ignored her and thought of the deep darkness of Abyss Valley, thinking of an old tree that used to stand in the Light Meadows, its trunk as wide as fifteen men. It was near the city that had stood in the north, the city Kyron had corrupted.
The crystal carving glowed and an oval of light appeared before her.
Naleiya wasted no time in jumping through it, her brother's staff still held tightly in her other hand. Valana nodded to Zerina.
“Hold this,” Zerina commanded, removing her crown and handing it to the alchemist. Then she followed Naleiya into the light.
Valana darted through behind her, the animals following swiftly after.
Shaneulia suddenly heaved a huge sigh, picking up the small square of shifting material Litzie had dropped.
“Shaneulia, no,” Markis said, his face hard, though his voice pleaded.
She looked to the shrinking portal, then down at the belt she wore. It had a dozen tiny vials of various concoctions, many of which could prove useful out there.
Suddenly she thrust the vial of watery elixir into Markis' empty hand
“How could I have a clear conscience if I turned my back on them, now?” she said. Swinging the Darkness Mantle out and over her shoulders, she stepped towards the portal. “Get the children to help you. I have to help them. And leave Eltara to her work. It's important. I love you,” she said quickly before diving head first into the remaining light.
The portal vanished.
Markis stood there, holding the elixir and crown, staring dumb-struck at the place where his wife had vanished.
“Markis,” Niden said, spotting him as he rushed out of the doors. “Markis, where are—” He trailed off, catching the look in the alchemist's eyes and the golden crown in his hand.
Slowly, Niden took Zerina's crown, hardly bearing the wave of pain and fear that struck at his heart.
“They're gone,” Markis answered, unnecessarily, his broad shoulders hunched over.
Chapter 22
A Dark Victory
The silence in the cages was making Starla crazy. Her old friends were all staring at her tight breeches and revealing shirt with wide eyes. They looked as if they were trying to reconcile the Starla they had known with the one who sat amongst them, and failing miserably.
“I have missed you,” Raoul finally said, reaching out to Starla, seeing her distr
ess at the new drodemion that paced before the cages.
“No!” yelled Larkel, sending a well-aimed kick at Raoul's boot, knocking him off balance.
Starla opened her mouth but lost her voice as the usually good-natured Raoul began using language worthy of the Baron.
She reached out a hand to calm him.
“Stop!” Larkel said, the command in his voice freezing Starla's movement.
“Raoul!” Father Joe said, stepping into the small space between Raoul and Larkel before Raoul could leap at the young High Lord.
“Would you just let me explain?” pleaded Larkel, his hands raised.
“Explain?” Raoul spat, swearing some more. “You think you love her but you don't. Only I do. And she belongs back home. With me. She is promised to me. She is my wife in all but name.”
Starla felt a twinge of guilt at Raoul's words, dropping her hand as he reached out to her again.
“You're going to kill her!” Larkel's voice boomed, though he relaxed a little when Raoul's hand stopped half way to Starla.
Starla threw Larkel a questioning look.
“It's the Curse, Starla. Love,” Larkel said, his voice smooth again, a well of longing behind his eyes.
Raoul snarled at Larkel.
“Didn't you hear what Ditte said?” Larkel asked, exasperated.
Starla saw the long-suffering patience in Larkel's face. He knew Raoul would consider her to be betrothed to him and had probably been expecting this corresponding unpleasantness.
He sounded so tired. Starla let her eyes move over his bare chest, the skin still an angry red. A thick new scar ran across more than half of his neck.
He had suffered a lot since she had last seen him.
Raoul made a strangled noise, watching Starla look over Larkel so tenderly.
Starla shifted her eyes to him but was shocked to silence by the amount of pain and fury in him. She let her eyes fall from his face.
Suddenly, seeing Raoul's broken arm, she remembered the nightmares she had been having since she got to Galatia. She winced, realising they might have been visions and not dreams. The others all bore marks of torture, too, their clothes ripped and bloodied. The stench in the cages was nearly overpowering.
“A Curse?” Davan and Orla said together, looking terrified.
I've never seen those two scared before, Starla thought to herself. The children's eyes were set in dark black circles and Orla had a fading bruise across one cheek bone.
Elise was bruised and haggard. Antonio bore twin scars down his left forearm. Father Joe's skin, visible through the multitude of rips in his cassock, was mostly a blueish purple. He winced every time he moved. And Pierre, dear, fun-loving, witty, flirtatious Pierre, was stroking the bars of the cage, murmuring to them about Monarch butterflies.
Starla felt tears pricking her eyes at their sorry state. They were here being ruthlessly punished for no other crime than that they had known her.
“These chains all carry the Exchange Curse, now.” Larkel's voice cut into her despairing thoughts as he carefully lifted his chained wrists.
“What does it do?” Elise asked as she moved a safe distance away from Antonio.
“The Exchange Curse does nothing unless someone else touches the cursed object with their skin,” Larkel began, leaning back against the bars again. “Your chains won't hurt you, but if they brush someone else's skin, the Curse will pass to them.”
“Is there any way to remove it?” Antonio asked, looking at the cuffs which bound his wrists and the long chain dangling between them.
“A butterfly's kiss will do it. Butterflies are magical,” Pierre said, still gently patting the cage. He suddenly turned to Larkel and grinned between him and Starla. “I told you angels never die,” he said triumphantly.
“The only way is if someone or something living takes the Curse. Then the chains will disintegrate on their own,” Larkel said, wishing he could enter the man's mind. Kyron had clearly done something, but perhaps it was reversible.
“What happens to the person who takes the Curse?” Father Joe asked, shifting carefully back to his spot.
“They will suffer a brief burst of pain, enter a frozen state and then die within seventy hours,” Larkel's voice was a whisper.
“Could you, or another Makhi, heal them?” Starla asked, sitting beside Larkel and ignoring the looks her old family gave her as she spoke of the Makhi as they might an apothecary.
She hated the way they looked at her as if she had been replaced by some evil twin, yet she knew that she was not the girl she had been on Earth.
“No, my love,” Larkel shook his head, ignoring Raoul's twitch of anger, “it cannot be healed. The Makhi who cast the spell may be able to break it but he would have to have great magical strength. Ditte is not powerful enough.”
Silence enveloped them as they took in their situation. They were all in torn clothes, cramped into a single cage. One false move and they could easily brush someone's skin with their chains.
“I think you're lying,” Raoul said. “You just don't want me near her. You don't want to accept that she had already chosen me before she ever met you.”
Starla was shocked. Raoul sounded like a petulant little boy.
“Princess Starla may do as she pleases,” Larkel replied smoothly, stressing her Galatian title just a little.
Starla believed that she was the only one present who had caught the note of jealousy in Larkel's voice, or the vulnerability behind the hard glint in his indigo eyes.
“She's not a—” Raoul spluttered. “She is human. She is not yours. She never will be!”
“Raoul,” Starla said, cutting him off. “All he says is true. I am not … human.” She stumbled over the last word.
Raoul made a strangled noise, swore and then turned away from them both, pressing his anguished face to the bars.
Starla sighed. “Please, Raoul, I told you that night. I tried—” Starla let it drop as his back muscles tensed. She knew that he was holding back tears.
“How did you know where to find us?” Larkel asked Starla after a brief silence. He was burning to hold her to him. To kiss her. To never let her go again.
“Yes, I'd like to know that, too,” Father Joe asked, his voice cautious, as if he wasn't sure how this new Starla may react. Elise was nodding behind him.
Starla raised her emerald eyes to Larkel's and saw her own longing mirrored there. He was here, alive. She smiled, rolling onto her knees. Carefully, holding the swinging connector chain with her left hand, she extended her right.
Larkel flashed his own smile as he mimicked her. Even more carefully, he touched the very tips of his fingers to hers.
The sense of love and reunion was so overwhelming that Starla couldn't find her voice as her heart and mind exploded in jubilation. She felt her heart race in time with Larkel's as they both found each other again.
Finally, she began to tell her tale, starting from when he had left her by the little fountain, speaking out loud only for the benefit of a curious Elise and Father Joe.
As Starla finished, the old priest sighed. “So, you have found your family.” A small smile came to his lips.
Starla nodded and smiled. “Yes.”
He handed her a folded white cloth, placing it on the floor between them for her to pick up. Starla smiled. Her mother's shawl. Lightly, she wrapped it around her shoulders then quickly touched her fingers back to Larkel's.
So, what did I miss? Starla asked Larkel, then listened to his thoughts and memories as he recounted his activities in their time apart.
“Astria told me about Kara,” Starla murmured as Larkel recounted the Baron's tirade before the lava pit.
Larkel's thoughts suddenly jumped to a drodemion locked in a cage somewhere dark.
Starla gasped. “She's alive? Why didn't you tell Braxton?”
“Because she's still a drodemion, my love,” Larkel said gently. He still could barely believe that Starla was a Galatian princess. “I don't kn
ow if she'll ever be cured. Or if, in fact, Kara is even still in there somewhere.” He glanced over at Beky's corrupt form, as if wishing he could cure them both.
Starla nodded and they lapsed into silence again, sharing each other's thoughts and emotions.
Suddenly, Starla remembered that, what felt like a life time ago, back by the little pond, Larkel had begun to say something, then stopped so she could tell him of the Star. And that sudden thought of a little red box.
Barely needing to concentrate any more, she showed him the memory.
The emotional climate inside Larkel suddenly exploded. What had been complete contentment, was now a roaring river of intense happiness and longing and, lurking behind them, an uncertainty that seemed likely to break him.
Starla willed him to look up and meet her eyes. Their indigo depths mirrored his inner emotions perfectly.
Well? Starla asked, a little wary as he grew more nervous.
Larkel's gaze turned serious, losing none of its intensity. Gently, he drew Starla into his memory. Starla could see herself walking a short way ahead of Larkel at the Festival, looking at the stalls. She felt the emotions Larkel had felt as he had watched her. If he had thought anything, he was not allowing Starla to hear. In his memory, she turned to face him. His hand was tucked into his cape.
A picture of a little red box suddenly appeared in Starla's mind, a ring box. She heard herself gasp outside of her head.
I no longer have the ring, Larkel thought, his uncertainty still there despite being able to feel Starla's emotions as exactly as she did. Will you marry me, be mine forever? For whatever time we have left?
Starla ignored the sad edge to his proposal, refusing to let it dent the intense happiness that flooded through her.
Yes, Larkel. She imbued the words with her happiness and her love.
They looked into each other's eyes.
In her mind, Larkel opened the box. Nestled in black velvet was a golden ring. Along its sides ran little diamond-like stones. At its centre stood a larger gem. As Starla watched it, it flickered, revealing two colours as Larkel shifted it. Emerald green and a stunning indigo, twined together forever in the heart of the stone.