Heroes of the Crystal Star (Valcoria Book 1)

by Jason James King

  He hoped so.

  But when Adariel tried to lift the crown from her husband’s head, it would not come off. She strained and strained until her palms were bloody from the sharp metal, but it was of no use.

  Chapter 28

  The Guardian Seal

  Dyon’s tangle of unruly, mane-like hair fluttered in the gentle night breeze as he stared ahead at the massive, black silhouette on the horizon that was Salatia Taeo. The grizzled old general chewed a wad of Lettle, rhythmically turning his head to spit brown juice. At the pace they were marching, they should reach the city’s south gate by first light, but was it too late? His scouts had reported that the enemy had already begun its assault and moved into the city. Blessedly, there was nothing in their report about a weapons technology against which they had no defense.

  Dyon glanced back at the column of soldiers behind him, almost forty thousand strong. According to Commander Trauel’s letter, that would be enough to match the enemy man for man.

  Not if they secure the city before we arrive.

  The wall ringing Salatia Taeo was fifty feet tall and said to be impenetrable, its gates easily defensible against a force many times larger than his. Should we march to the east gate instead? Try to route the enemy before they move all of their armies into the city?

  No, the wind seemed to whisper.

  Dyon started, glancing around for the source of the sound but no one was riding close enough to him to have made it. Stranger still, the voice had definitely belonged to a woman. As far as Dyon knew, there were no women in his army save for the camp followers, but they trailed behind the column at a distance nowhere near his position.

  I’m tired.

  This was unfortunately all too true, for Dyon had marched his army north as fast as he knew how, sleeping every other night and taking most of his meals in the saddle. I suppose I am not a spry young man any longer.

  He looked northeast to the treeline of Jala Tacia where he could barely make out a dark thick line streaming out from the woods and snaking into the city. If they doubled the speed of their march, his army would likely be able to attack the enemy before they could finish moving into the city. Dyon could cut them off while at the same time moving several battalions inside Salatia Taeo to begin contending with the invaders. He nodded to himself and prepared to give the order, but stopped. Again, his gut told him that such a course of action, though sound battle logic, was wrong.

  The south gate, the wind whispered.

  That was the quickest way inside the city and perfect for catching the Aukasian army unawares. If the reporting of his scouts was accurate, then the enemy army was just beginning to secure the city starting in the north near the palace, after which they would systematically move south, a process that would take hours and not be finished until at least tomorrow afternoon.

  But if the south gate is shut, which it likely would be, we would lose the element of surprise and miss our opportunity to press through the east gate while routing the enemy. If that happened, Dyon knew that his arrival would turn into an extended siege, which they would not be able to maintain.

  It will be open, the wind whispered again.

  A leap of faith. Dyon drew in a deep breath. So far his faith had been rewarded, they had arrived just in time to find the Aukasian army attacking a near defenseless Salatia Taeo.

  “A leap of faith,” he whispered aloud. Aun, you would be proud, if you are still alive

  Sitrell’s guts twisted as he saw the congealed silhouette of tens of thousands of Aukasian soldiers moving out of Jala Tacia and into Salatia Taeo, his home. Not having a horse of his own to ride, he had been free to let his attention wander and was the first to spot the enemy column several miles to the south. Etai had been frustratingly unconcerned when Sitrell had pointed it out, Etai just reminding him that they were there to save Ashra, not fight a war.

  But if I used the Niazeride hand unit and Etai fought like Jalek we could…what? Defeat tens of thousands of soldiers and then the Medasylas? No, Etai was right. Ashra should be his main concern, and she was, at least until he laid eyes on the enemy invaders. That sight was as an intoxicating drug to him, dulling his judgment and giving rise to a temptation to push Etai from the saddle and make a one man cavalry charge on the Aukasian column. Surely such overwhelming odds would put him in the shadow of death and justify his father returning from the dead to save him. After all he had seen and experienced, he knew that such wonders were possible, Etai had all but given him the proof.

  No, I have to protect Ashra. He shook off the suicidal enticement, turning away from the sight of the enemy army for good measure. Until Hirath, he had had nothing to live for, and so failure in death was almost as enticing as was proving Istran scripture true. Now that he had seen Ashra’s face again and heard her voice, now that he knew she was in danger of torture and death, he felt the stabilizing force of purpose. Ashra might not love him the same way he loved her, but the thought of her in danger made that irrelevant. Sitrell loved her and would until his dying day, even when she married, became queen, and forgot him. It was in this moment that he knew his was the kind of love depicted in all of the tragic epics: fierce, devout, worshipful, and agonizingly one-sided.

  They rode north for what seemed an eternity, galloping through groves of trees, fording shallow rivers, and doing so under a palpable air of anxious anticipation. Eventually, two hours later by Sitrell’s reckoning, they came upon a dilapidated watchtower set against the lee of a hill. Even in the dark of the night Sitrell could tell it had been a long time since the structure had seen use, its thick coat of ivy and half collapsed roof telling of decades of abandonment. Etai slowed his horse to a stop as they came upon the tower.

  “Here?” Sitrell heard Gevan ask from his right.

  Etai nodded and then dismounted, Sitrell climbing down after him. “There’s a locked hatch in the tower’s basement floor that descends to a tunnel that runs under Salatia Taeo and ascends to a store room in the palace’s north spire. We’ll need your key, Gevan”―Etai motioned at the Niazeride weapon―“to access it.”

  Gevan looked the slightly leaning tower up and down before shooting Etai an uncertain glance. “Is it sound?”

  “I hope so,” Etai said as he strode toward the building.

  Sitrell followed, lighting a lantern as Etai kicked in the tower’s rotting wooden door. As the splintering wood broke inward, a waft of musty air greeted them, as well as the sounds of unidentified creatures scattering for cover.

  They entered in silence. Etai led them down a flight of stone steps to a cellar full of broken barrels and empty crates. Gevan nervously eyed the ceiling’s several bowing trusses as they descended into the basement. It took almost ten minutes for Etai to locate the trapdoor, it having been buried beneath a pile of cobweb covered firewood. Once excavated, Etai glanced up at Gevan and motioned toward the square, iron grate. Gevan took aim and released a blinding flash of emerald energy. When the light subsided, what was left of the rust-splotched grate hung precariously from one gnarled hinge. Sitrell peered down into a shaft that refused to tell of a bottom even in the lamp light. A metal ladder descended the side of the shaft making Sitrell think of a dry well.

  “You have the light, Sitrell,” Etai chimed. “Care to be the first down the ladder?”

  “No,” Sitrell said as he placed the lantern on the stone floor, knelt, and lowered one foot onto a wobbly rung.

  He shot Etai an irritated stare as he descended through a net of cobwebs until all but his upper body was inside the shaft. He motioned for the lantern, the handle of which Etai quickly placed in his free hand. With one final preparatory inhale, he started his descent.

  “Be careful, Sitrell,” Etai called, “I am not certain how secure that ladder is.” Sitrell thought he could hear the man’s smirk as the square opening above him grew smaller and smaller.

  Once he reached the bottom of the ladder, he had to drop the last six feet on account of bent rungs. Once down, Sitrell ca
lled up so Gevan and Etai would know that one of them could next descend. While Sitrell waited, he lifted his lantern to view the forgotten tunnel. It wasn’t large, perhaps twelve feet tall and about as much wide. The walls were rough, giving the passage the appearance of a mine shaft.

  Etai dropped down, taking in the dank and somewhat claustrophobic tunnel. A few moments later, Gevan came down the ladder, hesitating before jumping to the ground and stumbling to his knees. Etai helped him stand and turned toward the long dark corridor in front of them.

  “This is a direct path into the city, which should make the journey quicker than our ride from Jala Tacia. However, it is still a long ways and we must run if we intend to reach the palace in time to save Ashra.”

  Gevan glanced at Sitrell, a concerned look on his face.

  “If you get winded,” Etai said, “say so and I will give you some strength.” He glanced back at them before running off into the darkness.

  Ashra sat on the floor, arms crossed over her breasts in an attempt to hide her cleavage from the lustful stares of the Imperial Guard. With helmets off, the group of men made no effort to disguise their leers, nor did they whisper their foul jests to one another. For the moment, she was glad that Rayome Saetala wanted her for information, else she would likely be available for their sport. She still may be, once her father’s enemy learned that she didn’t know the Legacy Secret. That thought made her shiver and she turned to look at Kaiden for support.

  The man gallantly refused to sit on the floor with her and the rest of the captives as an act of silent defiance. At first he had wanted Ashra to do the same until she pointed out that her sitting on the floor wasn’t a matter of comfort but an issue of modesty, she dressed only in a low cut corset and petticoats that did not even fall below her knees. Kaiden responded by covering her naked shoulders with his gentlemen’s coat, taking her hand to lower her modestly to the ground, and then standing in front of her so as to obstruct the view of their captors.

  Three men of the Imperial Guard had brought her to the throne room where they had assembled as many members of the Ruling Council as had been unfortunate enough to be caught. Four hours had since elapsed, and still there was no sign of Saetala. In a way, the suspense had been the worst part of her ordeal, for it gave her mind time to manufacture an infinite number of horrible possibilities awaiting her. Don’t be so selfish. She thought of Sitrell and Gyaden, both men having given their lives for the greater good.

  Sitrell. The sound of his name upon her thoughts brought tears.

  With a twist of sharp grief, Ashra realized that the man she loved had died thinking she had rejected him, when it had not been him she had turned away from, but her own happiness. For the greater good. She smiled despite crying, as a pang of sorrow for Gyaden stabbed her chest.

  Ashra looked up and met Kaiden’s eyes. He forced a smile. How odd. He certainly had been acting strange ever since he had told her of Rayome Saetala and the Aldor. He was not an unkind man, but definitely austere. That had changed over the last two weeks. He had offered much less criticism and had made awkward attempts at consoling her. Perhaps it is because he knew that the end was upon us.

  Ashra glanced around the massive throne room, her eyes settling on the large circular seal stretched out on the floor in front of her featuring Amigus’s white eagle in majestic flight. She had been taught all her life that the white eagle symbolized nobility, strength, and protection, but today all of that was a lie. Today, the eagle was humbled, weak, and defenseless. Today, the white eagle would fall from the sky.

  Unconsciously, Ashra lifted her crown from her head and turned it as she lowered it in front of her face. She examined the front of the silver circlet, running her fingers over a circular symbol embossed on its front, one identical to the seal painted on the throne room’s floor. The Guardian Seal her father had called it. As she traced the seal’s indented lines, she remembered the day her father had called her into his bedchamber where he lay pale and weak. In a ceremony witnessed by only Kaiden, her father had lifted the crown from his own head and placed it upon hers with trembling hands.

  A tear rolled down Ashra’s cheek. If only she had known of her gift then. If only she had been able to heal him. Maybe then, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe her father might have foreseen Saetala’s attack and been able to stop it. Ashra scrutinized the crown’s smaller, color-less version of the Guardian Seal. Delicate and minute writing ran along the seal’s outer circumference. Ashra turned the crown so she could read the words. They were written in the ancient tongue, and translated they read:

  Beneath this seal, lies the poison of the past and the doom of man.

  That was an odd inscription for something meant to signify strength and nobility. She checked her translation again and after finding it correct, raised her gaze to inspect the seal’s larger counterpart painted on the floor. She was surprised to find that no writing encircled the painted floor seal.

  Why wouldn’t―and then it hit her. Ashra knew where to find the entrance to the Aldor. It was beneath the Guardian Seal, a symbol named for its literalness. She was shocked at the secret’s simplicity. Her father had passed it to her when he had given her his crown.

  “Shards of the Crystal Star,” she whispered.

  Just then, Ashra heard a commotion from the men of the Imperial Guard. She looked up to find them replacing their helmets and falling straight-backed into a line. Ashra turned to the throne room entrance as a procession of Aukasian soldiers paraded through the large, double doors. At their center was a young man about her age with long, black, braided hair and immaculate virgin armor. Emperor Lorta.

  Ashra felt a recurrence of the horrifying, cold hate that had awoken her gift at dinner. It chilled her soul, but for some reason wasn’t quite as potent as it had been earlier. She used the crown to check her reflection for glowing eyes and breathed a relieved sigh upon finding them their normal hazel color.

  Ashra stood, replacing her crown though she knew it looked ridiculous when she was dressed only in her undergarments. As she stood close to Kaiden, she hugged herself for warmth as much for modesty. She caught sight of a man following just behind Aukasia’s boy-emperor. He was shirtless, and though his lined face and grey hair marked him as middle-aged, his naked torso was taut with muscle, like Gyaden’s had been.

  “Rayome?” Kaiden incredulously whispered.

  That man was Rayome Saetala? She had expected an aging nobleman dressed in finery and attended to by a platoon of servants. This man had the fierce look and build of an arena champion. Ashra’s gaze fell to Saetala’s waist to something that made her shiver again—a black metal belt. The cold hate intensified as she looked at the grotesque accessory. What is it? She had to suppress a gag as she noticed Saetala’s flesh above the belt was inflamed and infected. Kaiden took a step forward, putting himself directly in front of her.

  “Well, Rayome,” he called in a loud and unafraid tone, “How does it feel to finally come home after decades of exile?”

  The emperor’s procession stopped just a few feet in front of them; the boy himself cocked his head at Kaiden. “What are you talking about, old man?” he asked in a refined soprano voice, one almost free of the clipped Aukasian cadence.

  “So you go by a different name?” Kaiden kept his stare trained on Saetala, not looking at or answering the emperor. “What is it that you call yourself these days, Rayome?”

  Saetala stepped forward, passing the bewildered emperor and meeting Kaiden’s stare. “My Aukasian associates know me as the Medasylas. I am their spiritual leader.”

  “I thought you were an atheist.” Kaiden scoffed. “Or have you finally found God?”

  “Sage.” The emperor stepped to the side of Saetala. “What is he speaking of?”

  “Sage?” Kaiden arched an eyebrow. “Using Valakyrian technology to make these people think you’re some kind of a prophet? Doesn’t that violate the scientists’ code of ethics? Aren’t you supposed to prize truth above all
else?”

  “Humble him!” the emperor shouted at one of the black armored Imperial Guards.

  “No,” Ashra cried out as the Aukasian knight kicked Kaiden in the back of the legs, pushing him forward so that he landed on his knees.

  “Is this the princess?” The emperor took a step toward her and grinned as he looked her up and down. “Is it Amigus tradition that their royalty parade around the palace half-naked?” That was met with a round of laughter from the emperor’s attendants.

  The emperor stepped in close, unabashedly leering at her chest before stroking her cheek with a finger. “You are a truly lovely creature. Perhaps I will spare your life and make you one of my wives.”

  “She belongs to me,” Saetala snapped, showing emotion for the first time.

  The boy-emperor shot Saetala a fierce glare before stepping away from her. “And so you will have her.” He smiled as he turned back to give her a final leer. “It wasn’t until I laid eyes on her that I understood why you requested her.”

  “She doesn’t know it, Rayome!” Kaiden shouted from his knees. “Tael refused to pass it to her because she was too young when he died.”

  Rayome Saetala glowered at Kaiden. “Do you think me a fool, Kaiden? Tael was a strict traditionalist. He would have made certain she would know.”

  Kaiden nodded. “You are right. He did prepare a way to pass the secret to her.” Kaiden looked up meeting Ashra gaze. “Through me. I know the Legacy Secret.”

  Saetala glanced at Ashra and then back at Kaiden.

  “Sage?” Lorta yelled, but Saetala ignored him.

  “And you haven’t told her?” Saetala arched an eyebrow.

  Kaiden shook his head. “I was waiting until she ascended the throne.”