A Legend of Starfire

by Marissa Burt

  “Save us!” they called to Wren as she flew past.

  “Take my son,” one woman with a small boy hugging her knees cried. She pressed up against the barrier and then jumped back with singed palms. “Save him!”

  Wren felt hot tears sting her eyes as she saw the emaciated faces. “I will come back for you,” she shouted, but she didn’t think the captives heard. Up and up she flew, until the cages disappeared and the fortress turned into sheer rock. Ahead of her she saw the slick glass walls of the highest cell, and inside were her friends.

  She could see them mouthing her name from their walled-off prison, and she instructed Coeur to fly closer. Mary was frantically calling to her, trying to tell her something, but Wren couldn’t make it out. She reached out a hand to the clear glass, and something invisible sent a jolt into her arm that seared through her body and into Coeur’s. The falcon emitted a horrible shriek and began to fall.

  Wren saw Mary’s face crease in alarm, saw their mouths open in anguish as she and Coeur spiraled down, spinning out of control. “I’m sorry,” Wren saw Mary say.

  “Coeur!” she screamed. “Coeur, fly!”

  Coeur gave a weak cry and a feeble flap of the wing.

  “Please, Coeur!” Wren whispered. “Please don’t die.”

  Coeur’s wings beat harder, catching air and hovering in place. They were no longer falling. They were ascending, climbing, and Wren heaved a sigh of relief that was soon supplanted by panic. What was she going to do? Fly up there and get shocked again? She had been so focused on releasing the others that she hadn’t thought about the fact that Boggen’s spell might extend to their prison as well. How in the world was she going to save them?

  And then in an instant she knew. She knew exactly how she was going to save the others. The echoes of the Crooked Man’s voice reverberated inside her, and she reached for the gemstone full of starfire. That was what had destroyed the plague. That was what made all things well. Save the others, he had said. Use your gift to save the others. The legend was true. The Crooked Man’s starfire would destroy Nod, and, in so doing, save it. Coeur was nearly back at the glass cage, and she heard a cry of alarm from the ground. Boggen had spotted her, and his rasping voice was issuing orders.

  “Shoot the falcon down!” Boggen roared. “Stop that girl!” But Coeur flew on, higher and higher, until she was once again hovering in front of the glass box. Wren urged her on, past the glass prison and up to the very top of the mountain, where she could see the source of the yellow shield pulsing with energy. She cupped her gemstone in her palm, the brilliant heat of the amber liquid filling her with life and strength. Was she doing the right thing? Would this even work? And with the thrumming of Coeur’s wings, she felt the answering thrum of her own heart. Yes.

  She shut her eyes, remembering the feel of the river of starfire around her, drawing on the peace she felt deep inside. Once, being a Weather Changer had made her magic go awry, stirring up a storm along with her conflicting emotions. But now, the starfire was a part of her, and her identity was aflame with the magic. “Like refining metal,” Robin had said, and Wren kept that image in her mind as she wove the starfire, letting it flood into and through her, whipping the air around her into a cloud of burning wind. Bronzes and oranges and golds enveloped her, circling the stone in arcs of living starfire. She wove it together, sending a pure jolt of starfire at the pulsing yellow shield, and the two energies met in a powerful clash. The tainted Magician-made electricity met living fire, and the top of the tower exploded in a brilliant flare of light. Heat from its combustion blew Coeur backward, and Wren scrambled to grip her feathers so she didn’t fall off. The bird spun, cartwheeling wingtip over wingtip before regaining her balance. The yellow shield was cracking, jagged bolts of lightning creasing down the exterior, shattering the prison doors for so many. From below, Wren heard cheers as the shield began to fail at the lower levels. Captives poured forth from their cells, empowered by all the injustice they had suffered and the residue of starfire, and came upon the enemy from behind. The confused rear guard of henchmen turned to face them, but it was too little, too late. The prisoners overpowered them, grabbing the henchmen’s starspears and snapping them in starfire-powered justice. Boggen’s massive army was crunched between its foes—the animachines and Outsiders from the front, and the newly freed from behind.

  “Wren!” Jack was calling to her from the glass tower. “Wren, quick!” Wren coaxed Coeur near, and she felt like crying when she saw her friends. Mary’s face was thin and haggard, and she could barely stand. Cole was folded into a thin heap on the floor, bruises covering his skin. Jack looked like he might not make it at all, but when she was near enough, he climbed on Coeur’s back. “Take me through the pass. Hurry!”

  “But what about the others!”

  “Forget us!” Cole said in a hoarse voice. “Go with Jack!”

  Wren didn’t stop to ask questions. Even if she had tried, it wouldn’t have mattered. Jack was urging Coeur on, flying straight through the narrow gap between the two mountains and into the stronghold.

  “Boggen’s well of power is back here,” Jack shouted in Wren’s ear. “The final source of all his tainted stardust.” He coughed, and Wren could feel his thin frame rattle behind her. “Can you do whatever you did at the shield again there? If we destroy that, Boggen’s done for.”

  Wren looked at the stone that still burned in her palm. There were still a few flickers of amber flame dancing there. “Maybe. But I don’t know how we’ll get close enough. The blast back there nearly killed me and Coeur.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Jack said. They landed, and Jack slid off, racing toward a flight of steps that were cut into the mountainside. “It’s up here,” he said, taking the steps two at a time as Wren followed after him more slowly, her breath coming in exhausted gasps. The jolt of tainted stardust had sapped her strength. She bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath as Jack hurried on ahead.

  Jack ran out onto a rocky balcony next to the neon pool of liquid Wren had seen in her waking dream.

  “Stop!” Boggen’s voice came from a hidden crevice in front of her, but it wasn’t the rasping one he had used with the armies; it was the coaxing version she had heard once before, back when he had manipulated Jack. “Don’t do this, Jack. Don’t do this, my son.” Boggen’s inhuman body creaked out of its hiding spot toward Jack. He ignored Wren completely, and stood between her and Jack. Up close Boggen was even more horrible than he was from a distance. He had lost half of his face, and a metal plate covered one eye. Flesh and steel blended together in a monstrosity that chilled Wren’s blood.

  But that wasn’t what made Wren freeze on the stairway. It was the sight of Jack, standing on the balcony, listening to Boggen with a hungry look on his face.

  “My son,” Boggen continued, as if he could sense that Jack was desperate to hear those very words. “Don’t fight me. Join me, as you once did before.”

  Wren watched in horror as Jack turned away from the last well. Jack, who had betrayed the whole world once before.

  “Jack!” Wren shouted. “Don’t listen to him!”

  Boggen howled in displeasure and turned to aim a spell at her, but it had no effect. The tainted stardust simply melted off her. Wren took advantage of Boggen’s confusion and tried to dart past him. Jack might be frozen under Boggen’s spell, but she was free.

  Boggen was fast. One of his mechanical arms snaked out and clamped around her waist. His spells might have no effect on her, but that didn’t mean she was invincible. All he had to do was not use stardust. Wren struggled against her bonds. She couldn’t believe she had been so foolish.

  “If you touch one drop from my well, my son,” Boggen said. “The girl dies.”

  Jack tilted his head as though considering Boggen’s words, and he leaned back against the obsidian wall behind him, his arms folded jauntily across his chest. “And what will you give me if I help you?”

  Wren’s eyes bulged in horror. Jack
couldn’t do this. “No!” Wren screamed, until Boggen’s gauntleted hand smothered her mouth.

  “Now that sounds more like my son,” Boggen said.

  Wren bit down hard on Boggen’s gauntleted hand. Fortunately, not all of him was machine yet, and he yowled with pain, flinging Wren away with violent force.

  All of the breath whooshed out of her as she tumbled down the rocky staircase. The world went dark for a moment, and then her breath returned, though all she could manage was a hoarse croak. She began to silently creep back up the stairs. Boggen had reached the balcony, and all of his attention was directed at Jack.

  “For starters, I’ll need you to stop calling me your son,” Jack was saying with a cocky grin.

  “Whatever you like, Jack.” Boggen worked hard to shift his expression into a fatherly smile.

  “There’s another problem,” Jack said, his face twisted into a frown. “I can’t use the magic anymore.”

  Wren inched forward, one painful step at a time. She knew how powerful Boggen’s hold could be on someone. She believed that Jack had meant what he said back at the airship, that he really wanted to make things right. But without starfire, what could he really do against a powerful Magician like Boggen?

  “A pity,” Boggen said, “but not an insurmountable problem. I will make you a suit like my own. Together, we will rule Nod. We belong together, Jack; surely you see it.”

  “Belong together?” Jack barked a hoarse laugh. “The only people I belong with are my real friends, and you are not one of them.” Jack, thin and weakened as he was, put up his fists as though he was going to punch Boggen to death.

  Wren felt like cheering. Jack wasn’t lost to Boggen! Wren knew she couldn’t make it to the balcony in time. In a flash she knew what to do. Fanning the starfire into flame, she held the gemstone aloft. “Jack!” she yelled. “Here!” and she threw it with all her might.

  It arced up toward the balcony, whipping the air around them into a frenzy of bronze and yellow fire.

  Jack caught it with a triumphant cry. “Your heart is as dark as the magic that’s given you power. Let’s see how you do without it.”

  “Jack,” Boggen said, taking a step closer, but it was to be his last. Jack threw himself into the well, the living fire of Wren’s gemstone meeting Boggen’s tainted magic. The whole balcony exploded in a brilliant blaze of white light.

  The blast blew Wren back, and she fell on her shoulder with a sickening crunch. “Jack!” She scrambled past the burned-out form of Boggen’s suit, past the withered frame of what must be Boggen’s real body, which was moaning in pain. Up the cracked stairs to the remains of the balcony.

  Her friend lay there, his body still among the ashes. Wren started sobbing. “Don’t be dead, Jack, please.” She felt for his pulse, her breath coming in ragged sobs. “I can’t do this, Jack. Not again!” His wrist was cold and limp in her hands. She looked around frantically for the gemstone. Was there the tiniest bit of starfire left? She could hardly keep her hands still, they were shaking with her sobs, but there—she held her breath—there was a faint flicker.

  “Oh, please, Jack,” she begged. “Stay alive.” The flicker grew stronger, his pulse beating with the rhythm of life and breath, and then Jack opened his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Wren,” he said when he saw her face, and he gave her his crooked grin. “I’ve had the most wonderful dream. The Crooked Man was there. He said you knew him?” Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he smiled through them. “Wren, he gave me my magic back.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ring around the starfire,

  A pocket full of flame.

  Ashes, ashes,

  We’ll never be the same.

  Wren walked through the makeshift camp in the glimmering moonlight. Despite her exhaustion, she felt a deep sense of rightness with the world. They had done it. They had destroyed Boggen’s corrupted stardust and liberated the captives. With Boggen’s demise, for his Magician-made body could not survive without a power source, the rest of his henchmen had quickly surrendered, handing over their now-useless starspears to stone-faced Outsiders. All Wren’s allies had agreed that it would be better to camp in the valley than make the journey back to Nod overnight, but everyone was too excited to sleep.

  Groups of newly freed prisoners laughed and feasted around hastily built campfires. The Outsiders had procured food from somewhere, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. In one corner of the camp, a rotating crew of animachines guarded Boggen’s henchmen. Wren recognized one face among them. William’s scowl turned into scientific interest as she passed. She could imagine what he was thinking—how he’d like to study the girl who once was Boggen’s apprentice, the girl who had wielded starfire. His thirst for forbidden knowledge had taken him to an evil place, and after all that had happened, it still drove him. Sometimes a person could be imprisoned by invisible bonds stronger than any made of iron. Wren passed by him filled with pity. Perhaps he, too, might choose freedom one day. Until then, he would receive justice for his crimes once the new Fiddler Council was elected.

  “It’s too much to have power concentrated in one person,” Winter had said, and now she was hemmed in by Auspex and a mixed crowd of city dwellers and Outsiders who were arguing politics.

  “What we need is someone who can be a voice for the different groups on Nod,” Auspex said, his face serious.

  Winter nodded. “Perhaps it’s time for the Knave of Hearts to lead us. All of the city dwellers respect the Knave.”

  Wren felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Mary and Cole behind her. Their faces looked worn and haggard but also full of joy. “Well done, Wren,” Cole said solemnly, but Mary enveloped her in a hug.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Wren said with feeling. “But it’s really the Crooked Man you should thank. Without him, I’d have betrayed you all, and Boggen would still reign here.” She told Mary and Cole what had happened to her, and Cole nodded thoughtfully.

  “So the Ashes were right about the Crooked Man,” he said.

  “How wonderful!” Mary had tears shining in her eyes. “Not just for Nod, but for the Crooked House as well! We must let Astrid know as soon as possible. Tell the others to look through the old archives for whatever they can find about starfire.” Mary was all business again, listing the things they needed to do, but her words brought Wren up short. Wren had been so caught up in events on Nod that she hadn’t thought about Earth in some time. Or how they were going to get back there.

  “But will we be able to? Return to Earth, I mean?” Wren asked in a small voice.

  Mary stopped mid-instruction to Cole about how he needed to contact the Ashes immediately, her mouth working as though she hadn’t even considered the possibility of anything else.

  It was Cole who answered. “The taint on the stardust is cleansed,” he said. “And we live in a city of Magicians who kept excellent research logs. We should be able to create a new gateway in time. With the help of starfire.”

  “Which is why you must get a message to the Ashes immediately . . .” Mary picked up right where she had left off.

  Wren felt relief wash over her. However much she liked Nod, she didn’t want to live here forever. She would have to ask Cole later how he intended to communicate with the Ashes. She thought how nice it would be to see them and to sit by the river of starfire and find out what the Crooked Man might like for her to do next. He had been right. Belonging to the starfire wasn’t like belonging to Boggen had been. Wielding the starfire was when she most felt like who she was supposed to be.

  Mary and Cole were deep into their plans now, and Wren left them to it. She hoped that their guidance would help further good relationships between Magicians and Alchemists. Wren wove her way past city dwellers caught up in merrymaking. They, too, had tasted the bitterness of treachery, if only for a short while, and seemed all the more determined to celebrate their freedom.

  She headed deeper into the ca
mp, where someone handed her a mug of something frothy and tried to get her to join them for a toast, but Wren shook her head with a sigh. The only reason she couldn’t fully celebrate was that despite all they had accomplished, she still hadn’t found Vulcan. She was worried about him. The other Scavengers hadn’t seen him since the battle, and there had been no sign of him among the Outsiders, the city dwellers, or even the prisoners. Wren should know; she had stood there while hundreds of prisoners poured out of the interior cells—some as young as five years old. She was glad to see them now with smiling faces and full bellies and a promising future.

  Wren wondered if Cole might know something about using Dreamopathy to contact non-Dreamers. Perhaps with his help she could try to find Vulcan that way. Wren turned back toward them, but then she stopped. A lone figure was walking away from the camp, and Wren recognized the gaunt, upright silhouette.

  “Maya!” Wren called, but the older woman didn’t slow. Either she didn’t hear Wren or she didn’t care. The fading light nearly hid her from view, but Wren hurried to catch up. She hadn’t yet thanked the woman for fulfilling her part of the bargain.

  The night was still and somber farther away from the camp. Wren felt the quiet envelop her like a blanket, with only the occasional laugh carrying on the air. The smell of purplevines drifted toward her, and then Wren was among them, the fragrant plants the color of twilight itself.

  “Maya!” she called again, but there was no answer. Far up ahead, where the plants grew thick, there was a flash of blue-green light that flickered and grew stronger.

  A starlamp? Who was out here making a starlamp? Wren made her way toward the light, but some instinct inside her warned of danger. She crept quietly forward. Now that she was trying to remain unnoticed, every move sounded blaringly loud to her ears. The crackling undergrowth echoed in the silence, and Wren was sure she would be found out.