by Dan Haring
“Don’t worry,” Kyro said, scratching his dog behind the ears. “We’ll get you something to eat too.”
When he pulled out a roll from the bread box, he remembered he now had no way to get food. The thought made his appetite wane, but he knew he needed to eat or he’d have trouble staying awake. He tossed a bit of crust to Cypher, who wolfed it down and yapped for more.
Kyro threw together the rest of his meal, then hurried back up the stairs. Ever since that star fell in the marketplace, an odd sense of urgency had taken root in him. A bone-deep certainty that something was not as it should be. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake it.
And he wasn’t so sure he should.
Kyro settled into the chair, while Cypher, tired of moving in circles, curled up on his blanket in the corner of the room. Kyro set the chair in motion and ate. His father had crafted the chair to stop for five seconds per telescope, giving him just long enough to cover every part of the sky above their watchtower.
Not long before dawn, Kyro glimpsed something. Far in the distance, a cluster of stars was falling all at once.
Kyro leapt off the chair. He had never heard of more than one star falling at a time. It wasn’t supposed to happen.
He had to do something.
Kyro turned to run down the stairs, only to halt in his tracks.
His father stood before him in his rumpled clothes, a grave expression on his face.
Chapter Five
Ever since he’d heard the story of the Seven Elder Stars, Kyro had liked to think of each constellation as a family. When one fell, it was the Star Shepherd’s job to bring that family member home. If one died, they were separated forever.
But a cluster was like an entire family falling from the sky.
All those stars, so far away…
“Did you see it too? We must save them!” Kyro said to his father.
“We can’t.” Tirin shook his head. “They’re outside our territory.” His father hadn’t been gone long, but it seemed as though the lines on his face had grown deeper and more shadowed. Kyro hadn’t ever seen his father this… Well, he wasn’t sure what to call it, but he was sure it wasn’t good.
“But what if no one else saw them?” Kyro glanced at the clock nearby. “We still have an hour before sunrise. We could make it there and back. I know it.”
“We can’t, Kyro. We must remain here and watch our own piece of the sky.”
Kyro dropped back into the chair. “You’re sure another Star Shepherd will retrieve them?”
Tirin put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m afraid not. They landed in the Radamak Mountains.”
The Radamak Mountains were forbidden to Star Shepherds. The legends said that when the stars were first hung, some of the dark creatures hid there. The mountains were said to be so enmeshed in shadows that even the stars’ light couldn’t penetrate the darkness there.
Kyro’s mouth fell open. “You mean no one will rescue them? We have to let them burn out?” Until recently, he had never given serious consideration to how he felt about letting the stars die. Now, the thought of letting a star sputter out on their watch filled him with dread.
Tirin sank into a nearby chair. “Some things cannot be saved.”
“But it’s a betrayal of the Star Shepherd oath. How can they allow rumors to keep them from carrying out their duty?”
“To many, the local villagers, for example, our care for the stars is based solely on rumors and superstition. Those dark creatures were once as real as you and me.”
“But the stars hold them back. That’s what you always told me.” Kyro frowned and rubbed Cypher’s belly. The dog thumped his tail and yawned.
“They’re supposed to.” Tirin sighed.
An uncomfortable silence threatened to settle over them, but Kyro broke it. “Well, what did the Council say?”
“Nothing of importance.” Tirin stared at his hands and shook his head. Understanding sunk in, and with it, the sharp point of needling worry. The Star Shepherd Council wasn’t going to look into the oddities of the fallen star Tirin had reported. What Kyro couldn’t understand was why.
Tirin took a deep breath, as if he was weighing his words. “I did learn one thing from the Council meeting. A couple of other Shepherds have reported similar things, like stars falling in groups or unexplainable shadows bringing on a sudden cold. I believe that those shadows are the vissla, that those terrible creatures have somehow returned. There is much that we don’t know. I fear the world is growing more dangerous than ever.”
Kyro glanced through the telescope once more. In the distance a light shone between the mountains, and he watched it ebb. Hollowness expanded inside his chest, and he looked away. He hadn’t told his father about the dark creature he had encountered the other night. He was beginning to think he should.
“I’m sorry,” his father said. “There is so much I wish I could have saved.” Tirin raised his watery eyes to meet his son’s. The grief in them froze Kyro to his chair.
All this talk of not being able to save the stars was bringing back memories of his mother. She’d sickened very quickly, and Tirin had not been able to help her. Before they knew it, her light had sputtered out just like that cluster of stars. That was why Tirin had taken up Star Shepherding in the first place. Kyro’s grandparents on his mother’s side had been Star Shepherds too, and it was Tirin’s way of keeping some little piece of Sanna’s memory alive.
What if one of those stars that fell in the mountains was the one he and his father had rescued first? The one that bore a little token of each member of his small family, meant to keep that memory bright?
He needed to change the subject before his thoughts became unbearable.
“Father, there’s something I should tell you.”
Tirin frowned. “What is it?”
Kyro picked Cypher up and put him on his lap, almost like a shield. “The other night, I…I think I may have seen one of those shadows some of the other Star Shepherds have reported.”
Tirin sat bolt upright. “What happened? Tell me, what did you see?”
Kyro’s eyes burrowed into Cypher’s fur. “It was the night you sent me out to rescue a star on my own. I was headed back when I saw the shadows break out from the trees as one tall form. The air grew very cold, and then I just ran.”
Tirin gripped the arms of the chair. “Have you seen a creature like that ever before or since?”
“No, I swear it.”
His father relaxed a little. “Good. If you ever see one again, always be sure you get to the star first. We cannot let them fall into vissla hands.”
Kyro frowned. “Can they even touch the stars? When I held up the star, the light seemed to force it back.”
“The stars contain power that must be wielded. When they hang in the sky, the Elders’ Magic wields them against the dark creatures. But on the ground anyone could claim them. Perhaps that is why someone is cutting them down…” Tirin rubbed his chin.
Kyro glanced at one of the telescopes again, and he stood up out of his chair. “Look!”
Tirin bent near the telescope too, and his face went pale.
Another cluster of stars was falling—and it was within their territory.
Chapter Six
This time, Tirin didn’t object to chasing the falling stars. They raced from the watchtower and tore through the woods in the direction the cluster fell. The trail of light hit the ground, and the earth quivered beneath their feet, but it didn’t slow them. Wind whipped through the trees and clawed through their jackets, but neither of them missed a step.
Tirin banked to the left, but Kyro was right behind. Cypher barked at them, trying to keep up. Finally they reached the spot where the stars had fallen. The area was pockmarked by craters, but something wasn’t right.
Kyro adjusted his goggles to be sure he was seein
g correctly.
Not one of the craters glowed. Tirin leapt into the nearest one, and Kyro ran to the next. He fell to his knees at the edge, barely hearing the shocked gasp from his father.
The crater was empty.
He rushed to the next, only to find it empty too. And the next and the next.
Kyro turned in a circle, gaping and confused.
All of the stars had vanished. Not even a trace of their burlap casings remained. Only empty, smoking holes.
Tirin stood over his crater, tearing at his hair. He ripped his goggles off his face and began to pace and mutter.
“Who could have done this? Why? It just doesn’t make any sense,” he mumbled.
“Father, I—” Kyro began.
Tirin’s head shot up. “You must go home. Right away. It’s too dangerous out here. Take Cypher with you.” He snapped his goggles back into place. “I’m going to find those stars.” Without waiting to see if Kyro obeyed, his father set off into the woods.
“Come on, boy,” Kyro called to Cypher, and then he headed back down the trail toward the watchtower.
Kyro was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t look up until he realized Cypher was tugging at the hem of his pants. “What is it?”
Cypher yipped. Kyro followed the dog’s eyes and saw, to his shock, yet another star falling in the sky overhead.
And it was close.
So many falling stars all in the same night? Things had gotten very strange indeed.
Kyro found the telltale glow, and then set off in the direction of the star, Cypher at his heels. A sense of urgency spurred him on. Tonight alone, they had failed—twice—to save nearly ten stars between those two clusters.
This was one last chance to save something this evening.
Kyro and Cypher approached the glowing crater in the woods, but stopped short when a terrible scream, like ice crackling, echoed through the trees. He could feel the ground beneath his feet growing cold through the soles of his shoes.
A dark shadow rose up between the crater and Kyro, sending Cypher skittering behind his legs. Within seconds, Kyro could see frost on his breath. The star rested too close to the dark, giant form, and he was too terrified to do anything but watch the frost slide over the burlap sack. Kyro told his feet to run, but it was as if they were frozen in place. The shadow creature molded part of its darkness into a long scythe and sliced the star open.
“Stop!” Kyro said, but the shadow paid him no attention. Where was his father? Surely he could banish this creature.
The dark figure reached into the fallen star and yanked out the heart. The light extinguished in its palm as the star froze over. Then the shadow creature squeezed its dark fingers closed, and the star crumbled into ice and dust on the forest floor.
“No!” Kyro cried, his limbs finally lunging toward the stardust, but it was too late. The dark shadow was already melting into the trees, and the star was long gone. And with it, all the hope that had filled Kyro moments earlier.
He sank onto the cold earth, head in his trembling hands. He couldn’t deny what that frightening shadow creature was. It looked just as his mother had described the fearsome, cold vissla.
When the stars were first hung and the starlight net formed by interconnected beams of light, the dark creatures were banished underground and to the darkest corners of the world. It was rumored that some even hid in the Radamak Mountains and beneath the ashy sands of the Black Lands. But the sunlight and starlight held them prisoner in those places, unable to roam freely across the world as they had long ago.
But now that there were gaps, holes in the starlight net, were the dark creatures beginning to break free of their dark prisons? Could they wander in the darkness where there was once light? The sun protected the world during the day, and the stars were supposed to protect them at night. They had for centuries. Kyro shivered and hugged his knees. Cypher licked his face.
Kyro shook off the circling vultures of thought and got back to his feet. There was nothing he could do for any of the stars that had fallen tonight. “Let’s go home, Cypher.”
When they reached the watchtower again, Kyro was exhausted and immediately fell asleep on his cot, haunted by dreams of dying stars.
Chapter Seven
Kyro woke to the sound of the watchtower door slamming shut and Cypher whining by his bedroom door. Kyro got up to let the dog out and found his father, disheveled and harried, muttering to himself and shoving items into a bag.
Tirin’s eyes widened when he saw Kyro. “Someone has stolen them,” he said, an unmistakable quiver in his voice. “I must find them.”
Kyro rubbed his eyes. The sun was up, so it must be morning now. “The stars?” he asked.
His father nodded vigorously as he closed his bag. “It’s the only explanation. Nothing else makes sense. Kyro, this is very important. I need you to stay here and tend to the stars. I’ll be back in a day or two.”
Equal parts of fear and excitement flooded through Kyro in a heady mix. “That long? Watching by myself?”
His father picked up two large vials of sparkling powder from the kitchen table and shoved them into Kyro’s hands. “Take these. Only use them if necessary.”
Kyro puzzled at the vials. “What is this?”
“Stardust, of course.” His father put on his coat and slung the pack over his shoulder.
“But what—”
Tirin sighed. “I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t so urgent. Everything depends upon it.”
“Where are you going?” Kyro frowned.
His father’s face grew serious. “I can’t tell you that. You must not follow me. Stay here until I return.” Tirin ruffled Kyro’s hair and quickly ducked out the door before Kyro could say another word.
* * *
The two days Tirin said he’d be away passed quickly. Then two more, and two more after that. Soon, an entire week had gone by without any word.
Kyro grew more and more uneasy with every day that slipped by. On the seventh day he could hardly sit still. He’d never been alone for this long before. When he woke that afternoon, he opened his bedroom door and saw that his father still had not returned.
He let Cypher outside and checked the yard. No sign of his father. The cart was still in the shed out back, just where he’d left it. Kyro had thought that was odd too. Where had his father gone that he wouldn’t have needed his cart?
Kyro stumbled back inside, the rocks in his gut churning. How could his father leave him? Sure, he ignored him most of the time, but to leave him all alone to fend for himself? To watch the stars by himself for this long?
He paused by the empty kitchen table. Perhaps Tirin had stopped by the village for supplies on his way out of Drenn. Someone there might have a clue to where his father had gone. And he could use more groceries too.
Kyro couldn’t sit still any longer. He grabbed his coat and bag and headed out the door as fast as his feet would take him.
Night descended as he ran to the village, and he couldn’t help keeping one eye on the sky overhead. No more star clusters had fallen since his father left, just a single one here and there, but it still worried him. The spindly trees rose up beside him, casting long shadows every which way. Each noise made Kyro jump, and every degree that the temperature chilled made him wonder if one of the vissla was nearby. He shuddered. He never wanted to encounter another one again.
When he reached the village, he snuck in through the side gate that Andra had showed him the last time he was there. He wasn’t sure how serious the people were about his father not being welcome anymore and how far it extended to himself. Could his father have stopped here and run into trouble? Might that explain his prolonged absence? Kyro made it to the marketplace without incident but saw no ready sign of his father. A few shopkeepers were still there, but most were closing up for the night.
Kyro was tempted to stop at the bakery and say hello to Andra, but when he walked by, all he saw through the window was Bodin sweeping the floors. He glanced up and scowled. Kyro ducked his head and moved on to the grocer.
The old man sighed when Kyro entered.
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m trying to find my father, Tirin. Have you seen him today?”
The grocer raised his eyebrows but shook his head. “Sorry, son, haven’t seen him since the last time he was here raising a ruckus.” He cleared his throat, and his meaning sank in. Tirin really wasn’t welcome anymore.
Kyro quickly purchased a couple items he needed, but didn’t feel comfortable staying any longer than necessary. Then he stopped in every store that had lights on, but all the merchants said the same thing. They hadn’t seen his father recently, and they were just fine with that, thank you very much. Worry gnawed at Kyro’s insides as he stopped in one last shop—the steel smithy. Tirin was Doman the smith’s best customer; if anyone in Drenn would care if Kyro’s father vanished, it would be him.
Kyro paused in the doorway, letting the tangy smell of the smelting fires wash over him and bring a little warmth his way. His hands were shaking, and he shoved them in his pockets.
“Doman?” he called.
“One moment!” boomed a loud voice from the back of the shop. The front was lined with all sorts of interesting items polished to a gleaming shine. Swords, knives, fishing hooks, as well as an impressive array of gears and even a few star casings in the corner.
Doman came out balancing a newly crafted blade in one hand. “Kyro. What are you doing here this late?”
“I’m looking for my father. I thought you might’ve seen him recently.” Hope filled Kyro for a fleeting moment. Then Doman’s expression shifted to a frown.
“I’m afraid not. Haven’t talked to him in a couple weeks at least. Stars must be falling slowly these days.” Doman smiled, though something about it felt off to Kyro. But why would he lie?