Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords

by John Marco

  The old man opened the mahogany box and chose a cigar. From the pocket of his waistcoat he produced an exquisite gold lighter, lit the cigar, and drew in a puff of sweet smelling smoke. His eyes closed with enjoyment; his brow wrinkled with thought.

  “Have you seen the Avatar?” he asked.

  Skyhigh nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve seen her. Why?”

  “What do you think of her? The truth, Captain. What do you really think of her?”

  “She’s marvelous,” Skyhigh admitted. “Is that why you brought the other governors here? To show them the Avatar?”

  “Partially. But there was something else I wanted to show them as well. Something that once belonged to your friend Leroux.” Rendor held the cigar smoke in his mouth, tasting it. “Do you know to what I’m referring?”

  “No, I don’t,” said Skyhigh, because he truly had no idea what Leroux’s gift had been. Now, it seemed, Moth had found it.

  “The boy didn’t speak to you about it?” Rendor pressed.

  Skyhigh didn’t blink. “No. Never.”

  Rendor smiled. “I don’t believe you, Captain Coralin. Whatever you think of me, it will go better for both of them if you tell me what you know. It might make it easier to find them.”

  “Find them?”

  “Of course. The boy has taken something that belongs to me. Now I have to get it back.” Behind the veil of cigar smoke, Rendor’s eyes were searching. “Skyhigh,” he said, testing the name. “Maybe we’re not so different. Both of us dream of flying with the birds. Only I’m too old to pilot a dragonfly. It’s airships for me, but it’s not the same.”

  For a moment the tension between them disappeared. Rendor actually looked sad.

  “But you’ve been up there with the birds, the clouds,” said Skyhigh. “You know what it’s like. It can’t really be described.”

  “Truly, the world’s a different place from up there,” agreed Rendor. “It is mankind’s birthright to fly. I’ve always believed that. I tell you, Captain, we are born to it, like the birds themselves. Why else would God put such a desire in the hearts of men? Children look up at the sky and they want wings. They want to touch the face of God.”

  “Yes,” Skyhigh sighed. “That’s how it was for me. I was fifteen when I saw my first dragonfly at an exhibition. You used to run those, remember?”

  Rendor’s face lit up. “There were always lots of children at those shows.”

  “That’s the first time I ever saw you,” Skyhigh confessed. “I thought you were God then. Nothing else mattered to me after that. All I wanted to do was fly.”

  “Major Hark says you’re his best pilot,” said Rendor. “Brash, he told me, but a natural talent. It takes a natural talent to control a dragonfly. Not everyone can master it.”

  “I have,” said Skyhigh. “There aren’t many things I do well, but I can fly the hell out of a dragonfly.”

  “Good,” Rendor observed. “Now you’re being honest with me. I think this will work.”

  “What?” asked Skyhigh. “What will work?”

  Rendor put down his cigar on the edge of the table, so that the ashes were just about to fall on the carpet. “Moth and my granddaughter have gone through the Reach. I wonder—have you any comprehension of what that means?”

  “Not really. I know that it’s forbidden . . .”

  “Forbidden, yes, and for good reason. By going through the Reach they risk the ire of the Skylords.”

  Skyhigh held back a laugh. “The Skylords again? Governor, that fairy tale might frighten people back in Capital City, but not me.”

  With a face like thunder, Rendor said, “I didn’t bring you here for your opinions, Captain. Your opinion of the Skylords is as dust to me.”

  “Why did you bring me here?” snapped Skyhigh. “You kept me waiting for two days while you wined and dined your friends. And now you’re gushing on about flying while Moth and Fiona are in trouble. I would have thought you’d show a little more interest in your granddaughter, instead of complaining about what you say Moth stole from you.”

  “And you claim to know nothing about what he stole! Do you expect me to believe that?”

  “Governor, it doesn’t matter to me what you believe.” Skyhigh stood up, determined to leave. “All I care about is those kids, even if you don’t. Now, either charge me with a crime or let me get out of here.”

  Rendor rose from his chair, picked up his cigar, and walked over to the window. “Captain, I need your help.”

  “My help? You’re kidding, right?”

  “We’re going after them,” said Rendor. “You, me, and the crew of the Avatar. We’re going through the Reach. We’re taking a scout ship, too. And the best pilot I can find.” The old man puffed on his cigar. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Skyhigh groped for an explanation. “Why?”

  “Captain, haven’t you been listening?” asked Rendor. He turned from the window with a frown. “To get back what’s mine.”

  A STRANGER

  THEIR TINY FIRE HAD LONG died out by the time Moth and Fiona fell asleep. In the nook by the river, Moth felt safe enough to dream. They were good dreams, mostly, about his birthday and Leroux, and how he’d never cared about the Reach before his troubles started. He awoke briefly to find Fiona sleeping next to him. Lady Esme had tucked herself against Fiona to keep both of them warm. Seeing them put a tired smile on Moth’s face as he drifted back to sleep.

  It might have been a minute later or an hour—Moth couldn’t tell—when he awoke to the sound of crunching branches. Supposing it an animal, he opened his eyes expecting to see a looming tiger or bear. He held his breath, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and saw the outline of a man standing over him.

  Moth gasped and scrambled back, startling Fiona awake. Her scream sent Esme flying.

  “No!” hushed the man. A finger shot to his lips. “Quiet!”

  Moth and Fiona staggered to their feet. Head swimming, Moth peered through the darkness as he grabbed Fiona’s hand. “Who are you?” he demanded. “We’re not alone. If you harm us . . .”

  The man squatted down and held up his hands. Moth’s sleepy eyes could barely make him out. “No harm, no harm,” he said quickly. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “What do you want?” hissed Fiona. “We don’t have anything to take.”

  Moth saw a grin open on the stranger’s face. “I’m not here to rob you, girl. No, no. I’m a friend, here to help . . .”

  He spoke quickly, too quickly for Moth’s drowsy brain. All Moth knew was that he looked unsavory. “Go on!” Moth ordered. “Leave us alone! The others will be back soon. If they catch you here . . .”

  The man cackled. “Am I an idiot, boy? I didn’t know that!” He stood up, the moonlight catching his weathered hat, its wide brim shadowing his grizzled face. “You’re alone. I know you are because I’ve been watching you.”

  Fiona let go of Moth’s hand and stepped toward the stranger. “Watching us? Why? I’m the granddaughter of Governor Rendor. If anything happens to me you’ll—”

  “No!” said the man, covering his ears. “No names! The less I hear the better for us all.”

  “Who are you?” Moth asked again. He was less afraid now, but growing wildly curious. “Why were you watching us?”

  “To help you,” said the man. A tall, lanky fellow, he stooped down to face them, his long, threadbare coat brushing the grass. “You need help, don’t you? You’re lost.”

  “We’re not lost,” said Fiona hotly. “We know exactly where we’re going. We have—”

  “A map,” Moth jumped in, hoping Fiona wouldn’t mention the star machine. “Besides, it’s not your business where we’re going. How’d you get here anyway?” Moth squinted for a better look him. “You’re a human, aren’t you?”

  Once more the man laughed, an unsettling, mad giggle that made Moth cringe. “Oh, yes. As human as the day I stepped through the Reach! And proud of that I am, too. But we talk too much
. . .” He scrunched his head on his shoulders and listened to the night. “We should go now.”

  “Go? With you?” Fiona folded her arms. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  For the first time the man seemed genuinely annoyed. “I know where you’re going,” he said in a dangerous whisper. “You’re looking for Merceron.”

  “Who told you that?” said Moth. He slid toward his coat to protect the star machine, then saw Lady Esme already guarding it.

  The man shook his head. “No names, no questions.”

  “Moth, we only spoke to that mermaid,” said Fiona. “She must have told him.” She glared at the stranger. “Is that right? Did she tell you about us?”

  “We’re running out of time,” said the man. His voice was almost pleading. “In a few more hours the sun will be up. Walking to the hills will take too long.” He hoisted a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a boat ready to go. I’ll row you there, but we have to leave now.”

  “Why?” asked Moth. “What are you afraid of?”

  The man’s face twisted under his wide hat, as if considering how best to answer. “No,” he said finally. “We can’t talk about it.”

  “What do you mean, can’t?” said Fiona.

  “Can’t! Can’t!” raved the man. “As in cannot! We can’t speak of any of this. I wouldn’t even be here if Serana hadn’t begged me. The more we talk the more time we give them to sniff us out.”

  “Who are you talking about?” asked Moth. “Please, you’re not making any sense.”

  “No, that’s it,” snapped the man. “Close your mouth and move your legs. Do it now or I’ll leave without you. I’m risking too much helping you.”

  He turned his back and started walking toward the river. Moth and Fiona glanced at each other, stunned by what was happening. They were in danger, probably, but Moth had no idea what kind. Or maybe the man was just a lunatic.

  “That mermaid told him to help us,” said Moth. “But why?”

  “He’s leaving,” said Fiona. “Should we call him back?”

  Moth couldn’t think straight. They hadn’t expected to see another human here, and it was still a long, exhausting walk to the hills. A boat ride would make that a lot easier. And if the man knew Merceron . . .

  “Wait!” Moth called after him. “We’re coming!”

  RAPHAEL’S RIVER

  THE FIRST HINTS OF DAWN greeted Moth as his eyes fluttered open. He was in the little boat, and didn’t even remember falling asleep. Lady Esme clung to the prow like a figurehead. Near her, Fiona remained blissfully asleep. And there was the stranger in the middle of the boat, positioned between Moth at the bow and Fiona at the stern, rowing slowly and tirelessly toward the hills.

  Moth lifted his head and rubbed his forehead. “How long have I been sleeping?” he asked groggily.

  “Couple of hours,” the nameless man replied. “You and your friend must be dog tired. You both dropped off talking to each other.”

  Moth glanced past him toward Fiona and Esme. Both seemed safe and content. Hadn’t he expected them to be? Moth wasn’t sure. He was grateful for the stranger’s help, but he still had no answers. Remembering the star machine, Moth groped in a panic for his coat. It was right where he’d left it, in the bottom of the boat.

  “I told you,” said the man softly, careful not to wake the others. “I’m not a thief.” Then he grinned, adding, “Well, not anymore.”

  He had taken off his hat and laid it in the boat, freeing his face of shadows, yet he remained a mystery. He’d simply taken them aboard and shoved off down the river, which wasn’t green anymore but a typical, boring shade of blue. There wasn’t anything magical about the man, either. No tail, no wings; just a man, thin and ragged, like the vagrants that sometimes got off the train in Calio. A wiry brown beard covered his chin and his hair hung limply down his forehead.

  “Look there,” whispered the man, craning his neck toward the hills. They’d made good progress while Moth was sleeping. “Another hour or two,” he guessed.

  “You’re sure we’ll find Merceron there?” asked Moth.

  “Maybe. It don’t really matter. What you’ll find is the sunken forest. That’ll keep you hid.”

  He was still talking in riddles. “So you don’t know where Merceron is?”

  “Just rumors. That’s all anyone knows. Me, I never seen a dragon in my life. Don’t care to, either.”

  Moth slumped. “Great. So what’s so important about this forest?”

  The man went on rowing. “Let’s just get you there, all right? I told you—too many questions.”

  Moth felt uneasy again. What did he mean, he wasn’t a thief anymore? “Why are you helping us? It makes no sense. Who are you? How’d you get here?”

  “If I tell you,” the man whispered, “then you can’t tell another living soul about me. Do you hear? And don’t tell me about yourself either. That would be even worse.”

  “I won’t,” said Moth. “I promise.”

  “My name is Raphael Ciroyan,” said the man. “From Outer Berne.” His brow crinkled. “Feels good to say it. Been a long time. This boat—made it myself. Didn’t know the first thing about boat making when I got here. Learned it all on my own.”

  From the look of the boat that was easy to believe. “Raphael . . . I never heard that name before.”

  “It was my father’s name,” declared the man proudly. “He’s dead now. My mother too. I had a brother when I left the world, but never had much use for him anyway.”

  “And you live here? Through the Reach, I mean? By yourself?”

  “Not quite by myself,” said the man. A grin stretched across his face. “You know anything about mermaids, boy?”

  Moth shook his head. “I didn’t even know they existed till yesterday.”

  “And I bet you nearly lost your mind when you saw her, eh? That’s their magic, to turn our heads the way they do. They’re crazy about human men. Whenever one comes through the Reach they try and keep him for themselves. Beautiful creatures, but lonely. Forget what you’re thinking about mermen; there’s no such thing. Just maids. Makes them real hungry for companionship.”

  Moth imagined what that was like, loving the idea of living with the mermaids. “So that’s why you came here? For the mermaids?”

  “Nah. I didn’t even know they were here. I came across the Reach because I had to. Wasn’t anything left for me in the world. Had folks chasing after me, too. Law types.”

  “Oh,” said Moth darkly. “So you are a thief.”

  The accusation made Raphael bristle. “You ever been to Outer Berne?”

  “No,” Moth admitted. “I’ve never been anywhere but Calio.”

  “Calio? Calio’s as soft as the queen’s garters compared to Berne. Real hardscrabble there. Nothing but dead industries, hopelessness. Would you blame a man for stealing to feed himself? That’s all I did.” Raphael’s smile was roguish. “More than once, I admit.”

  “So you ran,” said Moth. Raphael’s story wasn’t so different from his own. “When was that?”

  “Oh, a long time ago. So long I can’t even remember. Mermaids make a man forget a lot of things. I ran from the noose right into those tender arms. Didn’t make much sense to think about going back.”

  “She’s the one that told you about us, right? That mermaid we saw?”

  “Serana’s her name,” said Raphael. “Yeah, she told me. Humans aren’t supposed to come through the Reach. Been a long time since the last one. And there’s never been children come across.”

  “So there’s others? Where are they?”

  Raphael’s face darkened. “It’s not safe for humans here, and it’s not safe for you. That’s why I’m helping you, because you’re just kids. And because you know Merceron’s name.” Seeing Moth about to speak, he put up a hand. “No, don’t tell me how you know it. Don’t tell me anything. Let’s just get you to that forest.”

  Frustrated, Moth leaned forward. “Raphael, what are you scared of? What
are we hiding from?”

  Raphael shook his head, rowing deliberately. “Find Merceron. He’ll be able to answer your questions.” At the front of the boat, Fiona started to stir. Raphael smiled. “She’s the one with the temper, eh? Not you, though. You’re easygoing.”

  “She’s my friend,” said Moth.

  “Older than you, I’m guessing. Tall girl.”

  “Careful,” warned Moth. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

  “Too late,” groaned Fiona. She sat up, blinking and scratching her red head, searching the river. “We almost there?”

  “Hold tight, little gal,” said Raphael. “We’ll be there soon.”

  The sun was over the top of the trees when the little boat coasted into the bay. Raphael stored his oars, letting the craft drift toward shore as his passengers marveled at the forest. Sugar-white sand pushed up against the trees, forming a gleaming beach, but the trees themselves were like nothing Moth had ever seen. He and Fiona crowded the prow for a better look.

  “The sunken forest,” Raphael announced. “The end.” In fact the river did seem to end here, spilling out into a broad lagoon that broke past the sand in spots to flood the forest. Enormous tangles of roots erupted out of the sand like the gnarled hands of giants. There were places where the sand had gathered in ribbons through the forest, making little pathways. In other spots the roots were submerged. The sight of it made Moth shrink.

  “How are we supposed to get through that?” he groaned. Lady Esme hopped onto his shoulder with a cry of distress.

  The boat drifted to shore, beaching itself on the brilliant sand.

  “Is Merceron far?” asked Fiona.

  “Don’t know,” said Raphael. “Maybe.”

  With little comfort from their guide, Moth and Fiona glanced at each other.

  “I can take you back, if you want,” said Raphael. “But you can’t stay with the mermaids. You’ll have to head home through the Reach.”

  “No,” said Fiona. Determined, she hopped over the gunwale to splash ashore. “We’ve come too far. We’ll find Merceron. I know we will.”