White Star Phase: Book One of the Ascendants Chronicle

by Scott Beckman

  “She touched me with it! With the red feather!”

  The old woman took up the knife and, with a wink, rubbed the rounded edge where the feather had touched Valkil’s palm. Then she cackled and released him.

  Valkil stumbled out of the hut, clutching his hand. Blood ran down his forearm. He collapsed at Ahlaha’s feet. “What happened?” she sang.

  “She’s killed me,” Valkil said. “That Qati bitch killed me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Aioni came to Valkil’s side and pulled at his hands to inspect them. When she saw the blood, she gasped. “I thought…?”

  “It’s a trick, Aioni,” Valkil said. “A way of holding your hand so the wound doesn’t bleed right away. That’s all.”

  “A trick,” Aioni repeated.

  “My love,” Ahlaha sang, “what happened?”

  “The red feather. She touched me with it.”

  “How do you feel?”

  Valkil considered. “I'm not sure.”

  “It may not be immediate,” Aioni said. "But your fate is sealed. Nothing survives the touch of a pairu daza's red feather, and there is no cure in all this world."

  Skor-Adal VIII

  Realization

  A passing islandic, larger than most, cast the flatlands into darkness. It reminded Krudah of night, the rare period between certain cycles when none of the three stars shone in the sky. He had lived through two nights and remembered them as frightening times when the landscape changed and terrible creatures that otherwise kept hidden emerged to haunt it.

  In the islandic’s shadow, the group settled in, fortified their camp, and waited for its passing. They killed the time playing games with twigs and rocks or weapons training. Krudah did not join them, and neither did the thrall guide. He had suggested that they continue on but Arvad, at Krudah’s behest, had silenced him. The world was far too dangerous in the dark and they would not risk it, whatever the thrall thought might be following their tracks.

  Since they had first glimpsed whatever force of nature had prompted them to flee in all haste, there had been no further sightings. Whispered musings among the caliphs had become increasingly rare and had now stopped altogether.

  Acting casual, Krudah found Arvad in the circle of caliphs playing games. With a grunt, he got the caliph’s attention. Immediately, Arvad excused himself and came to Krudah’s side. “What is it?”

  Krudah nodded in the direction of Skor-Rek. “Hunter,” he said, finding it easier than expected, though his throat began to throb.

  “Hunter?” Arvad asked, then grinned. “It’s good to hear your voice again, sir.”

  “The hunter,” Krudah said.

  “Yes. The something that was hunting us.”

  “Praether.”

  Krudah had witnessed the bizarre and terrifying creature once before, when it had joined his caliphate for a time on an expedition into the southern wastelands, hunting an apostate from Skor-Rek. Krudah felt unsettled when he thought of the Praether and its strange manner of speaking through the gaping wound in its neck. When it had finally left his caliphate in pursuit of its prey, Krudah had hoped he would never see it again.

  Arvad’s eyes widened. “The Praether? You think…?” Krudah nodded. “Gods. I hope you’re wrong. The stories they tell…”

  “Stories of what now?” Slither asked, approaching.

  With a look, Arvad asked if Krudah wanted Slither gone. The general shrugged and Arvad whispered to Slither, “The Praether.”

  “Oh, ay,” Slither said. “Terrible thing, that. Say she commands the mists. Close up your throat with a look, strangle you from afar. Surrounds herself in a whirlwind, all cutting and shredding. Are we to tell horror stories in this night-like time, eh? Frighten the fear right out of the little ones?”

  “They’re not just horror stories,” Arvad said. “At least, not like other stories. The Praether is real.”

  “Oh, ay. I’ve seen her myself,” Slither said. “Shared a word with her even. Not that she had much to say. I asked her where she was from and she said she was native, that I ought to ask myself where I was from. Ha, I just laughed at that, didn’t know what to make of it. Offered her some of the jan-jan and she stared me down with that dead look. Felt like I was talking to a corpse so I took my leave.”

  “I spoke to her once as well,” Arvad said. “At her behest. My younger brother had been taken by Ascendants that cycle and somehow she knew. Wanted to know if I had been there at the time. If I had seen them.”

  Slither ran her tongue against her teeth. “Had you?”

  “No, I wasn’t there. My mother told me the story. Same as all the rest you’ve heard.”

  “Ay,” Slither said. “Such a strange world we live in. What did ye tell the Praether, then?”

  “Nothing. Once I said I hadn’t been there, she lost interest.”

  “Hunter,” Krudah said.

  “You’re sure?” Arvad asked, and Krudah shook his head. “Just a theory then. Well, let’s hope you’re wrong. I don’t fancy a fight against the Praether. We’re already in enemy lands. Dangerous enough as it is.”

  “How to fight it?” Krudah asked.

  Slither punched the general in the shoulder, a wide grin on her face. “Look at you, then! Not just speaking but speaking whole! Proud of you. You’ll be all better before long.”

  “How to fight?” Krudah repeated.

  “How do you fight the mist?” Slither asked.

  “Same as any other enemy,” Arvad said. “With coordination and strategy.”

  “Make strategy. Then practice,” Krudah said, nodding to the other caliphs. Arvad nodded and went to do his bidding. Slither lingered a moment with Krudah, licking her lips, then followed.

  Mourisiel VIII

  Borderlands

  East of the Suio avalanche plain, Aris navigated the others across rivers on natural bridges of stones that poked up through the water like the horned backs of sea serpents and across lakes on skiffs hidden in damp caves.

  Jeppo’s lips, loosened by time since Aris had thrown him to the ground and embarrassed him, often spouted pointless, cowardly nonsense, but Vella’s quiet and studious presence had grown on the Villain. She rarely spoke but her eyes were always on him, watching his every movement, and he had begun to consider her a student, making sure to perform important actions slowly so she might learn from them. He let her row the skiffs and felt a tinge of pride at the strength of her arms. The more time he spent with her, the more he thought she might make a fine mercenary despite her high upbringing.

  One night, with the cold wind blowing snow across the vast lake before them, Aris settled down beside Vella. He spoke loud so she would hear him over the wind and through the furs they wore around their heads. “You are like my daughter.”

  “How so?”

  “You want to learn. To improve yourself. You have strength but it is never enough. You understand how to do something when you see it done, without the need to do it yourself.”

  “Do you believe it? That she is dead?”

  Aris paused. “No,” he said finally. “I believe she lives. I will see her again.”

  “She was bold,” Vella said. “I mean, she is bold. Wherever she is.” She squinted, as if reading the lines in his face like a book. “Having known her, you are not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “She avoided speaking of you. I assumed you were an absent father, always away doing what it is that you do. I imagined you cold and dead inside.”

  “You no longer think that of me?”

  “You are cold, perhaps, but there is a life inside of you. Vibrant. Intense. I can see it.” Vella looked away. “I want to ask about it but I am afraid of what you will say.”

  The demon within shifted. “Ask your questions.”

  Vella took a moment to collect her thoughts. “You are the first man I have ever seen put my father in his place. Armies have fallen to viscera and yet I watched you slay one without
taking a scratch yourself. You have wisdom and power that should be impossible for any one man to attain but here you are. What made you this way?”

  Aris was silent until the presence within shuddered and he spoke against his will. “There was a spurned lover, a woman. She had fallen for the leader of her cult and he had chosen another. She brought me these four blades of Kovah steel, stolen from the cult, and asked that I kill the man. She told me where I would find him.” He looked up and across the tundra, visualizing a tower half-buried in snow. “They had excavated a ruin. An ancient, crumbling place. Colder than anywhere I’ve ever been. They were down at the bottom, digging through ice harder than stone. I found the leader. He begged for his life. Said he could offer me something more valuable than the payment I had received to kill him. I told him my payment was four Kovah blades, worth more than anything I knew. He said I was wrong.” Aris held out his hand to Vella, palm up. “He placed a black stone into my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. Something inside that stone seeped out and through my gloves. It wormed its way into me. It has been there ever since.”

  Vella stared, unblinking. “Do you know what it is?”

  “I don’t, but it has made me what I am now. As fine a killer as I was before, now I am something unstoppable.” Aris brought his hands into his lap and looked at them. “Theina saw the change in me. She was only a child but she saw it. She hated it. She hated me. Couldn’t stand to look at me or be around me. So I was an absent father. Very much so. It is the only kind of father I could be.”

  “Did she ever try to connect with you again?” Vella asked. “As an adult? I know that she went to you…”

  “About your cause, yes. She asked me to kill the Mourisiel family for her. For you and your father, and the others. I wouldn’t. That was the only time she came to me. The only favor she ever asked.” Vella took Aris’ hand and he looked into her eyes. “You see, you were wrong about me. I am dead inside.”

  “You do not choose to be.”

  “None of us choose who we are or what we become.”

  Aris pulled away and brought the fur tighter around his shoulders. Vella sat beside him in the wind and the cold, and her presence did the speaking for her.

  ☆ ☆ ☆

  The snowstorm darkened the world like night. Ice hung from tree branches and there were no more avi, only small ground critters with thick fur and broad feet that fled and hid as the humans passed. These woods were ruled by osos, huge and heavy predators with long jaws and two pairs of black eyes. Though they found tracks in the snow and the bloodied remains of prey left behind, Aris and his company did not see any osos themselves.

  From the top of a hill, an orange glimmer on the northern horizon told of a forest fire. Jeppo pointed it out. “The Juulliiss burn these woods to clear out land for their crops. Are we so close to Eetheevee?”

  “Yes,” Aris said.

  “Then they have expanded their territory significantly since the last reports,” Jeppo said. “When I rule Mourisiel, or rather when I sit on the senate that rules Mourisiel, I will see to it that we build walls to mark our territory clearly lest these warmongers think to test us. We should be patrolling this borderland between our nations that the Juulliiss might see the strength and number of our Fel Riders and come to fear us.”

  “Would they?” Vella asked. Jeppo glared but it didn’t stop her. “They say the Juulliiss generals ride the oso into battle and wield hammers that none of our best soldiers could lift.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” Jeppo said. “They have uncanny strength and they have the oso but they are slow and reliant on vast numbers to overwhelm their foes. They have no strategy. We Mourisians are wiser. We drove them back before and we could do it again.”

  “Did we?” Vella asked, earning another harsh look from her father. “We reclaimed only a quarter of what we lost to them. There are those in the court who say they let us win, that they have spent these last few decades gathering their strength. They say that when the Juulliiss come again, we will not be able to stop them.”

  “They can say what they want,” Jeppo said. “I will see to it that such a thing never comes to be.”

  Aris stopped and sat on a gray rock jutting out from the snow. He removed his harness and leaned the blades against the stone. Jeppo watched with his arms crossed. “We’ve just taken a break. You need another?”

  “No,” Aris said. “The Juulliiss scouts will be here soon.”

  Jeppo looked around nervously. “I don’t see any sign of them.”

  “Trust me.”

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?” Jeppo asked. “Take up your blades. Kill them!”

  “I have traveled into Juulliiss territory before. I have never needed to kill their scouts to earn passage. Their nation is not so different from ours.”

  “But we came to kill them. That’s the entire idea. To exacerbate tensions with the Juulliiss, put the fear of war into the hearts of the Mourisian people, and help us build a rebellion to overthrow the royal family.”

  “I plan to do something far more dramatic to achieve our goal.”

  Jeppo stared. “Very well, but how will we explain our presence? We are clearly not traders or hunters.”

  “You are clearly neither,” Aris said. “You wear expensive furs and carry no weapons. So what you’ll tell them when they come, I don’t know, but I look forward to hearing it. For my part, I will show them the Kovah blades and they will know my name. They will let me pass.”

  “Are you a legend among them as you are in Mourisiel, then? Do they know what you are?”

  “The Juulliiss have little need for services like those I offer in Mourisiel. Their honor is their currency. Hiring a murderer would mean moral bankruptcy and among them, that is financial bankruptcy as well. They have need for my services in other ways.”

  “So you leave us on our own in this moment of need?” Jeppo asked.

  “I told you not to come,” Aris said.

  “You were to be our protector. Our guide!”

  “I have guided you here, to the edge of Juulliiss territory. Mission accomplished.”

  “Our mission,” Jeppo said, slow and staccato, “is to kill those Juulliiss we find and make it look like an attack by Mourisiel soldiers. You must go to face them.”

  “I don’t think I will,” Aris said. “You are welcome to do so.”

  “I am no warrior.”

  “No, you certainly aren’t.” Aris tilted his head in mock curiosity. “Why exactly are you here then?”

  “To make sure you do as you promised,” Jeppo said. “To ensure this very thing doesn’t happen.”

  “Does Fiskahn know you’ve come, Jeppo?” Aris asked. “Your presence wasn’t part of his plan.”

  Jeppo blanched. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I know when I’m being lied to. Fiskahn convinced me that the Mourisiel royal family would handle the threat of war with the Juulliiss poorly and that would help him build support for a rebellion determined to replace the royal family with a senate chosen by the people, but you have failed to convince me why you had to come along.”

  “So why allow us to come at all?”

  “For this moment,” Aris said. “To see what you say to the Juulliiss scouts when they come. To see whether you have prepared a lie for them or if you will need to announce the truth here before me.”

  Jeppo paused. “If I tell you the truth before they come, will you go to fight them?”

  “I do not work so cheap.”

  “So you will blackmail me with my own life?”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me the truth and then we’ll negotiate?”

  Jeppo’s eyes narrowed. “There are no scouts coming. You’re just trying to trick me.”

  “If so, you’ve already confirmed that I’ve been fed lies. Whether the Juulliiss scouts are coming or not, you are in very real danger unless you tell me the truth.”

  “You won’t kill me,” Jeppo said. “You�
�ve befriended my daughter. You wouldn’t dare murder her father in front of her.”

  “I’ve done worse things," Aris said. "It is very likely that I will do worse things again.”

  The Villain and the Court Clerk eyed each other and the silence drew long. Finally, Aris spoke. “They’re not coming,” he said. “They wait in the acovet at the foot of the hill.”

  “So go kill them,” Jeppo hissed through gritted teeth.

  “No,” Aris said. “I’ve come this way before and they’ve always come to meet me. Something is different this time.”

  “You must go,” Jeppo said. “You must. It is why you’ve come.”

  Vella suddenly shouted, “Pyylloo aavaast maat!” Jeppo rounded on her, fists clenched, but she stared him down. “It’s over,” she said. “He saw through it.”

  “You have killed us,” Jeppo said.

  Aris stood, drawing one of his Kovah blades. “You let them know we were coming. You set a trap for me.”

  Vella approached Aris, empty hands held out. “I will explain…”

  Aris charged. He struck Jeppo across the head with the flat of his blade and the Court Clerk tumbled into the snow. Vella rushed to his side but Aris reached her first and punched her in the stomach. She crumbled to the ground, groaning, and Aris stood over her, pointing the tip of his blade between her eyes. “You will explain,” he said. “And then you will die.”

  The sounds of approaching soldiers stole Aris’ attention. Several men and women in the heavy, jagged armor of the Juulliiss army scrambled up the hill, spears and hammers in their hands. Others, those who had been hidden in the acovet, came behind. At the rear, a general on the back of an armored oso commanded her soldiers forward, a huge Uurii hammer thrust into the air.

  “These are your people,” Aris told Vella.

  “Yes,” she managed to say. “Don’t hurt them.”

  “That is up to them,” Aris said. He strapped into his weapon harness and drew a second blade. He waited for the soldiers at the top of the hill, presence within restless.

  The first soldier to reach the top of the hill stopped and waited for his comrades to form ranks beside him. They watched Aris carefully but none approached the Villain and his softly-glowing blades.