Starburner

by Claire Luana

  WHEN RIKA’S THIRD eye opened, it took Vikal’s breath away. It was as luminous and shining as a diamond, as if a star itself shone from between her brows. Her breath caught as she looked around the cavern, looked between them. Vikal left his own closed. It was too painful to see the threads that stretched between them, that tethered them in a thousand minuscule ways. Past, present, future. He wasn’t ready to face that destiny.

  He gently pulled her into his arms as the flutist trilled the first notes of their ritual dance. Rika’s body stiffened as his hand found her waist. “Do you remember the steps?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Go easy on me.”

  “They will come to you,” he said, beginning to move across the rough cavern surface that had become a dance floor. Everything else had. Rika had taken to her heritage with effortless speed, as if it had been hovering just below the surface, waiting only for the doors to her soul’s memory to be thrown open wide. Now the light was streaming through—celestial divinity made manifest in this tiny form. Even he had doubted when she had first freed him, that this girl from a foreign land could be their goddess. It had seemed a cruel joke. Now, seeing her in Nuan dress, with her third eye glowing and his language rolling off her tongue like honey…he was ashamed to have ever doubted her.

  Rika stumbled through the steps, her cheeks flushed in a way that looked so lovely on her, though he suspected it was embarrassment. He spun her, pulling her hands and arms through and over his in the intricate dance, spinning and ducking and twisting. She laughed as they passed back to back, relaxing into the movements. When she met him in the next step, an instant before he was there, he knew she had remembered, that her soul had revealed to her another piece of their heritage.

  “Ready to go faster?” he asked, and the grin split her face ear to ear. He whistled at the flutist and made a little motion for him to speed up the tempo. And then they were flying, in and out and twisting and turning, hands and bodies meeting and parting. Their people clapped and whistled and stomped their feet to the music, and when the music finally stopped, Rika was flush against him, a sheen of sweat on her face, her ebony hair wild. Their lips hovered inches apart, and she let out a breathless laugh. He stepped back, his body too painfully aware of how right it felt to have the length of her pressed against him, his lips wanting too much to connect to hers. He bowed to her, and she nodded back, her smile tight.

  They returned to the dais and sank into their seats on the ground, leaving Bahti and Kemala to take the floor, to dance the dance that represented their union and powers. Bahti glowered at Vikal as he turned to take his wife’s hand, shooting him a look of such ferocity that Vikal felt the heat from where he sat. Vikal stifled a sigh. There would be hell to pay from his friend later. He glanced at Rika. Her face was stony. She hadn’t missed the exchange between the two men. She missed little.

  She turned to him. “Why does Bahti hate me so much?”

  “He does not hate you,” Vikal said.

  She snorted. “You couldn’t convince a two-year old with that lie. The man has never done anything but glower at me. He’d strangle me in my sleep if he could.”

  “He is the god of the deep mountain. He has a fiery disposition.” Vikal stalled. He should tell her about Sarya. He needed to. But how to explain that his heart belonged to another… yet he wasn’t sure he wanted it to anymore. And that fact alone made him feel guiltier than he knew how to handle. He owed it to Rika to work through his own feelings before he burdened her with them.

  “He doesn’t look that way at anyone else. What aren’t you telling me? I’ll find out from Sarnak,” she threatened.

  Sarnak coughed into his cup. “Leave me out of this.”

  Vikal ran his hand through his hair. “I will explain everything. But not tonight. After we defeat the leeches, we can talk about it for days. Just know that it is not really about you.”

  Rika’s lips thinned to a line. She turned to Sarnak, who was looking at Vikal like he was trying to communicate something only through his furry eyebrows. As soon as Sarnak saw Rika’s gaze on him, he feigned innocence, taking another drink from his coconut.

  She turned back to Vikal, who also had schooled his features into a neutral expression. Rika hissed in frustration. “Fine. After we defeat the leeches.”

  Vikal suppressed a sigh of relief. He would tell Rika when the time was right.

  They watched Kemala and Bahti finish their dance, an energetic number filled with leaps and stomps and lifts. It was mesmerizing to watch Bahti’s raw strength and Kemala’s grace. Kemala was just as skilled with a sword in her hand, Vikal thought gratefully. They would need those skills before the end. He looked around at the smiles on the faces of his people, the temporary reprieve from hunger and dirt and dark. He would bring them out of this mountain if it was the last thing he did. Back into the green spaces, to the turquoise of the sea. He glanced at Rika, whose third eye had closed. With Rika, they could do it.

  Bahti and Kemala’s dance ended in an elaborate pose where Bahti held Kemala high above his head. They smiled and waved as the crowd cheered and whistled their applause, but Bahti didn’t return to his seat, instead disappearing through the throng of people.

  “Excuse me,” Vikal said to Rika, and he jumped off the platform to follow.

  Vikal jogged through the Gathering Hall, catching a glimpse of Bahti’s white shirt and red sash. “Bahti,” he called. His friend disappeared into the tunnel, and Vikal picked up his pace to catch him. He grabbed Bahti’s arm and spun him around.

  “What?” Bahti’s red eyes flared in the darkness of the tunnel.

  “Enough,” Vikal said. “I need you to try with Rika. She is one of us.”

  “She is not one of us!” He exploded, stepping towards Vikal. “She will never be one of us.”

  “Are you blind? Can you not see her third eye? Can you not see the threads of starlight connecting her?”

  “I do not care if she has a third head. She was not born here. She does not know us, she does not know our people. She does not care for them as we do.”

  “She is learning. She is trying. It was not her fault where she was born this incarnation. Without her, we are doomed. Or did you forget? We are completely defenseless against the leeches.”

  “We will find a way.” Bahti crossed his huge arms over his chest, looking away.

  “There is no way. Not without Rika. We tried, remember? We were arrogant and foolish and Sarya died for it.”

  “Now you see fit to bring up my sister? When it suits you? When you can use her to make your point? Funny, you have been walking around here pretending like she never existed. I thought you had forgotten.”

  Vikal shoved Bahti, his anger flaring. “I think of Sarya every day. Every hour. I see her when I turn my head. When I close my eyes. How dare you?”

  “It does not seem like it when you walk about with your new girlfriend, batting your eyes at each other and dancing the Prashia!”

  “It is not like that, Bahti,” Vikal said, though the voice in the back of his head flared to life. Lies, it said. Vikal shoved it down. “We need Rika. To save Nua. I would do anything to secure her aid.”

  “So you swoon at the new girl while pretending Sarya does not exist. In one move, you betray two women. Very kingly,” Bahti said mockingly. “Does Rika even know that you have a wife?”

  A gasp sounded in the tunnel behind him. Vikal whirled to meet the sound and caught a flash of white disappearing around the corner.

  “Damn it, Bahti, now you have done it!” He barreled down the tunnel after Rika.

  Rika’s breath stuck in her throat—she couldn’t get it free. She felt like she was drowning, air coming in quick gasps.

  “Rika, wait,” Vikal cried, grabbing her arm and spinning her around against the tunnel wall. She could hardly process the rough treatment. Their words kept ringing in her mind. “I would do anything to secure her aid.” “Does Rika even know you have a wife?”

  “You’re�
�married?” she finally managed, shoving Vikal away from her, needing space between them. “Married?”

  His face was twisted in pain. “Rika, I am so sorry. I should have told you. I was married. She…She died. She is dead,” he amended, closing his eyes.

  Rika took a shuddering breath, pressing her hand against her chest to still her heart. “Dead.”

  “The leeches killed her. When they first came. Like…Like your father.” He slumped against the wall opposite her, closing his eyes. “She was so damn naive. She embraced the thing. Hugged it! In welcome. And it sucked her into ash.”

  Rika’s thoughts were returning to semi-coherence. Okay, he wasn’t married. That was good. He wasn’t a lying scoundrel. Only a liar. “It’s not like that, Bahti. I would do anything to secure her aid.” Including make a foolish girl think he was in love with her, that he was destined to be with her, just so he could use her. Even though her third eye was closed, she finally saw Vikal clearly. He was a sad, lonely king still in love with his dead wife. Desperate to save his people. Even at the expense of her heart. Strangely enough, Bahti had been trying to protect her!

  “I am sorry I did not speak of her. I should have. I did not know how, or when, or what was the right time.”

  Rika shook her head, feeling the stone walls creep up around her heart. Her voice was flat when she replied. “You didn’t owe me an explanation. There’s nothing between us.”

  “Rika…” he said, pushing off the wall, approaching her. She held up her hands to him, and he stilled. She could hardly be angry at him. If their positions were reversed, she would have done the same thing to secure his aid. She really only had herself to blame for being naive enough to walk into his trap. “We need each other. That’s how it started, and that’s how it will end. You need me to free Nua from the leeches, and I need you to take me back to Kitina so I can protect my people.”

  “That might be what this started as—” Vikal began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

  “It’s all it is. All I want it to be. I need to get back to my people.”

  “These are your people,” Vikal said softly.

  She shook her head again. “No. They are yours to care for. I will do my part and go. Now excuse me.” She turned and hurried down the corridor, slowing her feet, clenching her fists against the tears that wanted to flow. She walked back into the cavern full of revelers and music and dancing, keeping her head down. The scene that had been exciting and joyous only moments ago had turned alien. A desperate homesickness washed over her. She wanted Yoshai and burners and seishen and all the people who made sense to her. How had she thought for one minute that she belonged here? That these could be her people? That Vikal cared for her, or she cared for him?

  Then she was through the Gathering Hall and in the tunnel headed towards her cave. The tears broke through her makeshift dam, and she began to run, her sandals slapping on the hard ground. She wanted to see the stars, breathe the fresh air. Instead all she felt was this mountain pushing down, down upon her. Crushing her beneath its weight.

  THE SOUL-EATERS kept coming. Day and night, hour by hour, their assault on Yoshai’s walls was relentless. The pattern and intensity of their assaults was becoming predictable. Blast the gates and foundations of the wall with sickly green magic. When Yoshai’s forces responded with fireballs shot from the back of koumori and lightning drawn from the sky, the soul-eaters would withdraw, leaving the smoking corpses of their soldiers. Their slaves. Who seemed endless in number. The soul-eaters would attack at another location along the wall, and when Kai would divert her forces to deal with that attack, another unit would attack again at the original spot. Or elsewhere. She didn’t have enough soldiers and burners to defend the entire stretch of Yoshai’s walls around the clock, whereas the soul-eaters seemed to have no end to their resources or numbers. Kai couldn’t help but feel that her city was being slowly eaten alive by locusts—a slow, painful death of a thousand, million bites.

  Kai stood with General Daarco on the balcony of a temple that had been requisitioned as the headquarters of the war effort. She let the telescope drop, handing it without a word to Daarco. He let out a hiss of breath as he surveyed the scene beyond the walls.

  “We were wondering what they’re building. Now we know.”

  “Siege towers,” Kai said. “It’s hard to imagine they traveled all this way just to destroy. But the proof is before us.”

  “We could send another emissary…” Daarco trailed off.

  Kai shook her head. “I will not doom any more men to their deaths. These creatures have been clear in their intentions.” Despite Koji’s insistence that she not send anyone to treat with the soul-eaters, Kai had needed to try one last attempt at diplomacy. She couldn’t help but hope that her son had been wrong, that he had misunderstood what he had seen. Her emissary had never returned. It was as clear an answer as she would get.

  “Send a squadron of burners to torch the siege towers. Incapacitating those towers is our top priority.”

  “Consider it done,” he said. “I hope it’s enough.”

  “It has to be,” Kai said. “If not…we need to consider evacuation.”

  “I think that’s premature. There’s nothing to stop the soul-eaters from pursuing any refugees from the city and overtaking them on the roads.”

  “Better a fighting death than being penned up like cattle for slaughter,” Kai said. “If we aren’t able to destroy the siege engines, we’ll have to fall back to the inner city. Only a third of the population of Yoshai can fit within those walls. I can’t just leave the rest. I’d rather evacuate them. Let people make their own choices. We’ll try to cover their retreat as long as we can.”

  “With what burners? They’ve all been run ragged. The koumori are sluggish from exhaustion.”

  “All we can do is what we can do,” she snapped. “It will have to be enough.”

  “I can fight,” a new voice said, and Kai turned to see her son summiting the ladder up to the balcony. “Me and my classmates.” He was wearing the golden armor of the sunburner regiment, gray smudges under his eyes bearing testament to his lack of sleep. But still he stood tall, his shoulders squared. Had he grown in the last few days? In that armor, he looked so much like his father.

  Kai rubbed her face wearily, as if she could wipe away the heavy sorrow that fogged her mind and clouded her thoughts.

  “I won’t put you at risk,” Kai said. “You or your classmates. You’re children.”

  “I’m not a child,” Koji countered. “If I’m old enough to watch my father die, I’m old enough to kill the bastards who did it.”

  “We need you where you are. Running messages. Letting the people see you and Enzo. It raises morale.”

  “Anyone can run messages. You need burners. General, tell her,” Koji pleaded with Daarco. “You need us.”

  Kai looked at Daarco, whose face was written with apology. “They’re a dozen burners who can fly and fight. They’ve been training for years for this. They’re raw, but they’re fresh.”

  Kai narrowed her eyes. Traitor. Part of her knew he was right, that they needed every hand, that her sentimentality couldn’t get in the way. But she couldn’t risk her son. Wouldn’t. Her heart twisted at the thought so hard that it took her breath. He was all she had left. “My decision is final. Koji is the heir to the throne. We need him safe.”

  “Heir to the throne? What about Rika? Have you forgotten your daughter so quickly?” Koji said, his voice strangled.

  Kai’s hand flashed out like lightning, striking Koji across the face. The sound of her slap resounded in the silence as Koji looked at her, his hand to his cheek, his eyes wide with betrayal.

  “I will never give up on your sister,” Kai whispered, horrified at herself. She was not a woman who struck her children. But she wasn’t a queen who failed her people, either, and what hope could she truly give her city? She could feel herself coming unmoored. Without Hiro to ground her, without her daughter’s r
apt gaze on the heavens…she did not recognize this world she was living in.

  “Koji,” she said, reaching out a hand.

  “With your permission, my queen,” he said formally, tears rimming his eyes, her handprint bright across his cheek, “I’ll take my leave.”

  She gave a sharp nod, and he backed down the ladder quickly.

  “I’ve seen enough for today,” Kai said. “You have your orders, General.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Daarco said softly. Whatever he wanted to say, he swallowed it, and she was grateful.

  She descended the ladder next, coming into the wood-paneled library of the temple. Three people filled the room, startling her as she found her feet. “Colum?” she asked. “I thought you left after the festival.”

  Colum shook his head. “We saw an armada of black ships and turned around in a jiffy. Didn’t Koji tell you we were here?”

  Kai shook her head. “He was…distracted.”

  Colum huffed. “Youth. We came across something on the road I thought you’d want to see.”

  She found herself glad to see the old adventurer. She could use a little of his unfailing optimism right about now. She was less grateful to see the woman with him. “Mesilla.” Kai nodded to the moonburner, whose silver hair was pulled back in a simple plait. The woman nodded back warily. There was much history between her and this moonburner—who had once been called Geisa. The past two decades may have changed the woman, but Kai would never truly trust her.

  Daarco clearly had the same thought as he dropped from the ladder and blanched at the sight of their new visitors.

  “What have you brought me?” Kai asked, looking at the third figure in the room. A person. A person whose hands and feet were tightly tied, whose head was covered with a burlap rice sack.