by Dan Haring
A thrill jolted through Kyro. They’d made it. And if he hadn’t been here under such unpleasant circumstances, he would have been impressed. The stars they must be able to see from there! With the ocean next to them, the entire world could be viewed from that one spot on the cliff.
But Kyro was here for his father this time, not to wonder at the stars. He dusted off Cypher and his own clothes the best he could, and then they hurried across the field to plead his father’s case.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Kyro and Cypher reached the top of the cliff and the entrance to the Council’s magnificent watchtower, they were exhausted. Kyro could barely lift the brass knocker on the door, but somehow he managed. The sound reverberated through his bones. He wished to sleep, but nervous energy filled him from the tips of his ears down to his toes.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and an imposing man with a shaved head and close-cut beard stood in their path. His arms were more tanned than those of the sailors Kyro had seen occasionally in Drenn, and he folded them as he looked at Kyro expectantly. The boy’s mouth hung open. He wasn’t sure what he had expected the other Star Shepherds to be like, but it wasn’t this. Except the intimidating part, of course. That much he had gathered from the note that had been pinned to his door.
“H-hello,” Kyro stammered. “I’m here for the Star Shepherd Council meeting.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young?”
Kyro’s cheeks flamed. “No, sir. My father and I man our watchtower together.”
“And where is your father?”
Good question. “He wasn’t able to make it.”
The man considered Kyro for a moment longer, his eyes roving over the dirty dog at his side. Cypher sat up straight, tail wagging, on his best behavior.
“All right,” the man said, moving aside to let Kyro enter. “Where is your assigned region?” He picked up a clipboard from a nearby table.
“Drenn, sir. Our watchtower is just outside the village of Drenn.”
The man’s brows knit together; then his dark eyes widened. “Drenn, huh? No wonder your father isn’t able to make it to the meeting. It’s a shame.”
Kyro hung his head, but heat burned inside him.
“I’m Jakris,” the man said, holding out a hand for Kyro to shake. “Since I know you’re not Tirin, what is your name for the registry?”
Kyro shook the man’s hand. “My name is Kyro.”
“Well, Kyro, keep your chin up. Tell the truth about your father, and the Council may be persuaded to be lenient.”
The knot in his stomach loosened. Perhaps Jakris wasn’t so bad after all. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just Jakris, please. Now, come along. The Council is ready. A few more stragglers might show up, but you may as well go in and get it over with.”
Jakris ushered Kyro and Cypher through a hall that wound around the watchtower, slowly working its way into the bedrock of the cliff. Doors to each level dotted the sides of the hall, and Kyro imagined the rooms beyond must be full of finery and instruments to send the stars back where they belonged in the sky.
Along the walls of the hall were paintings and plaques. The paintings were night scenes featuring magnificent watchtowers. Titles like The Tower of Peliana and The Spire of Spinto and The Keep of Ergal were engraved on the elegant frames. The watchtowers depicted in the paintings were all finely crafted, and over their roofs hung a sky of sparkling stars. Between the paintings hung plaques with names of Star Shepherds, the dates they’d kept their watch, and the number of stars they’d rescued over the course of their careers.
Kyro’s heart climbed into his throat. His father must have seen this hall and these plaques many times. No doubt, he wished to find his own name among them some day. Kyro’s mouth went dry. If he wasn’t successful with the Council, his father never would.
He tried not to look, but he couldn’t help watching the names go by. Suddenly, he stopped and placed his hand on the wall next to one particular plaque: Jax and Yanna of the Romvi Watchtower. Those were his grandparents’ names. They had passed away when he was very young. And they had lived in a tower by Romvi, the village where Kyro was born.
“Someone you know?” Jakris asked.
Kyro dropped his hand to his side. “I think those are my grandparents.”
“I believe it. There are many generations in these halls.”
The longer they walked, the slicker Kyro’s palms grew. Would his name ever be on one of these plaques? Did he want it to be? He went over the words he needed to say to the Council, and hoped he’d remember them all when he was in a room full of people staring down at him.
He swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Jakris stopped before a large oaken door, but he paused before pulling the latch.
“You might want to leave your dog here.”
Kyro bent down to Cypher. “Be a good boy, and wait out here for me. Stay.” He scratched between the dog’s ears, and though Cypher whined when Kyro stood up, he remained seated.
“Ready?” Jakris asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Kyro said.
Jakris laughed. “Good luck. There are those present who know your father and respect him. Don’t forget that.”
Kyro stared in surprise, but Jakris didn’t notice as he opened the door. The hall was packed wall to wall and level over level with men and women from many different walks of life, representing regions all over the world. A platform stood in the center of the circular room with a chair that could rise and fall to address different levels of the tall hall. It was descending at the moment, carrying a thin man with a gray beard and sharp green eyes who addressed the crowd.
“That’s Kadmos, the leader of the Council,” Jakris whispered. Then he nudged Kyro forward.
Kadmos finished his introductory speech and alighted on the main floor. He took in Kyro’s appearance with a look of distaste.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Jakris stepped forward. “This is Kyro, of the Drenn watchtower. He’s here on behalf of his father, Tirin.”
Kadmos scowled and folded his hands in front of his midnight-blue robes. Kyro noticed that everyone—even Jakris—wore the same robes. He wanted to shrink into the floor. Was there a Star Shepherd dress code? His father had never told him about it, like so many other things.
“Where is your father, Kyro?” Kadmos asked, and the room around them began to buzz. “Why didn’t he come on his own?”
Kyro took a deep breath. “He is not at home at present. He is—”
“You mean he abandoned his post? The rumors we’ve been hearing out of Drenn are true?” Kadmos’s eyes glinted.
“He did not abandon anything. He—”
“Then why is he not here?” Kadmos stepped closer to Kyro. “He is the only approved Star Shepherd assigned to watch the skies over Drenn. If he is not watching them, then he has abandoned his post.” A terrible sort of smile slid over Kadmos’s face. “Tirin is a traitor.”
A ripple of murmurs flared all the way up into the heights of the tower. The sound that echoed back down to Kyro was nearly deafening.
“He is not a traitor!” Kyro shouted. The Council grew quiet, and he instantly regretted raising his voice, but there was no help for it now.
“Then by all means,” Kadmos stretched his hands out. “Answer the question. Where is Tirin?”
Heat flashed over Kyro’s face, and a trickle of sweat trailed down his back. “He came here not long ago to report strange slices in some of the burlap cases. While he was here, he heard other rumors about the vissla returning and stars going astray in other sectors.”
“Yes, yes, we know all this. We were here,” Kadmos said, gesturing to the Council members. “And those ‘reports’ as you call them were shaky at best.”
Kyro took
a deep breath. “After he returned, we made an even more frightening discovery. One night, a cluster of stars fell over the Radamak Mountains.”
“Which, might I remind you, are forbidden,” Kadmos said.
“I know, and we were saddened to lose those stars. Later the same night, another cluster fell outside of Drenn. We rushed to save them, but when we got there, all we found were empty craters. Someone took the stars—every last one of them. To make matters worse, I can confirm that the vissla are indeed back. I’ve encountered them at least three times over the last few weeks. I even destroyed one. They’re terrifying. The legends are true; stars can ward them off when wielded against them, but if they get their hands on a star first, they kill it.”
Audible gasps rang out. “Impossible!” reverberated throughout the hall.
Kadmos laughed. “Destroyed a vissla?” He shook his head. “Do you really expect us to believe that? Your imagination is just as formidable as your father’s.”
“It’s the truth. I swear it.”
A smattering of laughter trickled down above Kyro’s head, and his face reddened.
“Of course you did,” Kadmos said. “Please, continue your explanation of your father’s disappearance.”
Kyro swallowed the sand lining his throat. “After that night, my father knew someone was taking the stars. He went after them. To catch them. To stop them. But that’s not all. Since then, I’ve discovered someone isn’t just taking the stars; someone is cutting them down. See?”
He pulled one of the severed hooks left in the craters the night before from his pack. The Council went deadly silent.
“At first I thought it had to be the vissla, but the night I found this, several stars had fallen above our watchtower, and in the mere time it took for me to run outside, they were gone,” Kyro said.
“A fine tale, to be sure,” Kadmos said. “But have you anyone to vouch for this story? If you are the only witness to this, how do we know you aren’t making it all up out of affection for your father?”
Kyro’s hands squeezed into fists. “My father is out there, alone, trying to save the stars because you wouldn’t listen to him when he came here the first time!”
“Do you know how many times Tirin has come to our Council meetings, filled with false stories and conspiracies?” Kadmos huffed. “The first few times we took him seriously and investigated, only to have it turn out to be all in his head. You are just like your traitor father.”
Heat flared over Kyro’s cheeks. He had never heard about this before. He barely kept his tongue in check.
“You have no one to vouch for this story, do you?” Kadmos said. A whisper of traitor breathed through the gathered Council members until it roared in Kyro’s ears.
Jakris placed his hands on Kyro’s shoulders, startling him. “I believe him. I know Tirin has tried the Council’s patience in the past, but this time, several of us have seen strange things too. And I’ve seen the vissla myself. They are all too real. If someone is cutting down the stars, we should send people after Tirin to help him. He’s a hero, not a traitor.”
Kadmos scoffed. “A hero? How many stars have died since Tirin left, boy?”
Kyro froze. This was the one question he had been dreading. The one thing he had prayed they would not ask.
But lying wouldn’t help him. Kadmos had the look of a predator that knew its prey was caught. Kyro was willing to bet that the Council leader already knew the answer.
“Fifteen,” Kyro whispered. “There were fifteen I could not save. Our catapult broke down, and—”
“Fifteen stars, lost for eternity.” Kadmos raised his arms and returned to his chair. “Fifteen stars that we swore to protect and that were lost because your father abandoned his post.”
“No, it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. I couldn’t fix the catapult in time for the first few, then last night a dozen fell all at once, and those were stolen before I could get to them.”
“A likely story, I’m sure. Your catapult has been modified beyond standard specifications by your father, yes?”
Kyro’s heart sunk into his feet. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, then. I think it is time for a vote.” Kadmos pressed a button on the chair, and it shot up to the highest level. “Tier 9, how do you judge Tirin?” His voice jangled Kyro’s bones.
One by one, Kyro saw the specks of their voting paddles turn. Every one of them was black. Jakris squeezed his shoulders.
A man who must be the Council secretary scurried around below and recorded the vote of each tier as Kadmos progressed. “Tier 8, how do you judge Tirin?”
This time, there were two white voting paddles in a sea of black. Small hope flared in Kyro’s heart. It was soon dampened by the votes of the next two tiers. Then again, a spot of white at the fifth tier. But the last four were the same: black, black, black, black. The lone vote with a white paddle on the first tier was Jakris, who had remained at Kyro’s side. The verdict was clear before Kadmos’s chair even touched the floor.
Guilty.
Kadmos allowed the secretary to finish counting the votes, though it was only for show. When there was an official tally, Kadmos smiled.
“The Council hereby declares Tirin of Drenn guilty of abandoning his post as Star Shepherd.”
“This is wrong!” Kyro cried. “He was only trying to help.” Jakris put a hand on Kyro’s arm to keep him from doing anything rash.
“I am afraid you failed to prove that,” Kadmos said.
“I’ll find proof. I’ll clear his name. I swear I can!” Kyro tried unsuccessfully to shake off Jakris’s strong grip.
“Until you do,” Kadmos said, “your territory will be divided up between the Shepherds in neighboring regions.” He licked his lips before uttering the words that nearly made Kyro’s heart thud to a stop. “And you’re both banned from touching the stars.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kyro left the Council’s watchtower at dusk with his pack, his dog, and assurances from Jakris that he’d try to persuade the Council to be more reasonable. Since they had decided it would be more prudent to divide the coverage between neighboring Shepherds than to send a replacement immediately, Kyro’s tower wouldn’t have a new occupant until they went through the approval process for a new Star Shepherd. According to Jakris, they didn’t get that many applicants anymore, and it would likely be months before they appointed a replacement.
Even so, any hope he had been harboring that his father might be redeemed had fled. The Council had even taken back Kyro’s starglass goggles to ensure he couldn’t find the stars so easily if he was tempted to disobey them. It still hadn’t really sunk in that he’d been banned from touching the stars. He feared the weak hollowness inside him was only an echo of what was to come.
Night was upon them, and now Kyro would have to find a place to sleep or head back home. He couldn’t stand the thought of staying in Daluth for a second longer than necessary after how the Council had treated his father.
Yet, the thought of treading over the Black Lands with its sand traps and dangerous creatures again—especially at night—was a thing Kyro dreaded. His stomach clenched at the memory of Cypher struggling to paw his way free of the quicksand and the enormous creature with many razored legs. There was a port town below the cliff and the watchtower. Perhaps they might have a suggestion of a better means of getting home. Kyro had heard from his father that the sea passage was safer and shorter than going through the Black Lands, but it was also very expensive. They’d never had the extra money to try it.
They headed down the hill and slipped into the town unnoticed. At the first trough he could find, Kyro washed off his face and hands and Cypher as best he could. The black, sooty sand still clung to them, but the cool water made them both marginally more presentable. If Kyro wanted to find help here, he’d better not look like a thieving street urchin.
The port town was small, but clearly hadn’t suffered for it. It bustled with activity, from the manor houses up on the hill all the way to the taverns and merchant shops and down to the docks. The air was salty with sea brine, which almost reminded him of home. Drenn had a much smaller port than this place, but that salty air was unmistakable.
A few travelers or townspeople—it was impossible to tell which—gave Kyro strange glances, but most ignored him and went on their way. He could be invisible here. No one knew who he was. This filled Kyro with a mix of power and sadness. He was someone; he just wasn’t someone here.
As he ventured through the merchant shops, a sweet smell, like chocolate croissants baked to a perfect golden brown, wafted over to him. He missed Andra. Her soft hands and laughing voice, and how she always smelled as sweet as the pastries in the bakery.
He wondered if she really was sneaking out at night to keep watch in the tower. Or if she’d been caught by Bodin and gotten into trouble already. He hoped not, for both their sakes and the stars’.
Kyro’s stomach growled as he made his way down to the docks. Perhaps he could convince someone to let him work on a ship that would take him back to Drenn. He found an empty overturned crate and shooed away the gulls before sitting down and opening his pack. He pulled out some jerky for himself and a couple biscuits for Cypher, and they ate their meal while they watched the gulls swoop and dive into the bay.
Sailors and shipboys scurried across the docks. One group caught Kyro’s eye as they wandered from a nearby tavern and strolled back toward the big ships moored at the end of the docks. They joked and shoved each other. Their laughter rang through the air, making Kyro’s heart hurt. He didn’t have anyone to laugh with, unless you counted Cypher.
He began to turn away, but a word caught his attention: Drenn.
“Hurry up, boys!” one sailor yelled trotting down the dock ahead of the others. “Captain will be furious if we’re late shipping out for Drenn! We can’t spend long there as it is, since we have to continue on to Sanforia.”