Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  Down a flight of stairs and around a corner, I find Lexan, sitting at the table. He smiles at me, and I notice his hair is rumpled and his face and clothes are still dirty too. I’m glad for that at least: I must look awful.

  I take a seat next to him, and Madna clucks over us, bringing glasses of cool water and setting plates of food before us. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.

  Lexan identifies the food for me, Madna nodding like a teacher as he gets each one right. “Eggs, bacon, biscuits, jam, butter.”

  “I know jam and butter, thanks,” I say, taking an experimental bite of eggs.

  Stian walks in and I self-consciously smooth my hair down. He looks freshly bathed, his hair damp, and he has even shaved the patchy growth of hair from his face. Trying not to stare, I make note of how smooth his skin looks.

  “I took the liberty of finding some clothes,” he tells Madna.

  “Oh, honey, you know you don’t have to ask. We’ll look for some for these two after breakfast, and then I’ll trim your hair.”

  “Madna has something for everyone,” Stian laughs, gesturing around him at the stacked and piled belongings.

  “Part of being a safe house,” she says seriously. “You never know who will come through the doors, or what they might need. So you save everything.”

  Lexan scrapes a last bite of food into his mouth, then says, “Shower?”

  Stian nods. “I’ll show you where.”

  They leave and I glance shyly at Madna, who has lighted across from me with a steaming mug of tea.

  “Such a pretty girl,” she says, her kind eyes skimming past my implants. I wonder how much she knows about Asphodel, or Stian, for that matter.

  “Have you known Stian a long time?”

  “Oh, Lord, since he was a baby. His mother was a good friend of mine.”

  I notice the past tense. “Are you part of the Tribe, then?”

  “Not technically,” Stian says from the doorway. “Although Madna would be more than welcome to live and travel with us.”

  “I prefer to remain independent,” she laughs. “That means everybody helps me because I help them, and I don’t have to abide by anybody’s rules but mine.”

  “Sounds nice,” I say, more to my plate than to anyone else.

  “Stian, why don’t you show her around the place while I clean up. When you’re done, it should be about time for her shower.”

  He nods and Madna leaves the room. He dutifully shows me around the house, which is a confusing hodgepodge of rooms, hallways, balconies both interior and out, stairs, and always, overflowing clutter. In between our discoveries, I wonder why he seems so restless. Climbing one last staircase brings us to one more balcony, and I realize it must be the turret I saw last night. A small light is built into the railing.

  “This is called a bird-nest,” Stian says. “It’s the highest point in the house. See? You can see everywhere from here.”

  I look over each of the four edges in turn, seeing cliffs on two sides, the grassy garden on one, and then, the water on the last. Amazed that I can see the water from such a secluded location, I turn to Stian with a smile. He’s been watching me all morning, but now there’s a distant look in his eyes that makes me cautious.

  “Tre, I hope I haven’t brought you so far from home for nothing.”

  “What do you mean? You probably saved our lives.”

  “No, it’s not that.” He’s silent for several minutes, watching the sunlight on the garden and the water. “Things aren’t easy out here, that’s all. You’re still in a lot of danger. Once Asphodel sends people outside, it will be chaos. War, maybe.”

  “I know. My father wants me to come home and help Asphodel. He told me to leave and find my strength, then come home and fight.”

  “It won’t be that easy.”

  “I know.” My father. He may never realize what he asks of me.

  Our conversation is stopped by Madna, calling through the house for me.

  “Go get cleaned up,” Stian smiles at me, pushing a limp strand of hair from my face.

  After convincing me to hand over all the dirty clothing from my pack, Madna shows me the bathing room, and teaches me how to work the water.

  “It’s heated by the sun, but if you stay too long, the warm will run out and you’ll have cold,” she smiles, handing me a large towel and a soft robe. I hand her my dirty tunic and leggings through the door.

  The warm water is delicious, creating a soft steamy feel to the small room, gently releasing me from the dirt and stress of the last few days. Of course I do stay too long, but even the cold water is refreshing; the chill brings me solidly back to myself, and the rivulets trace the memory of a lifetime spent in the chill of a cave.

  The soap smells like flowers, and so does my skin when I’m done – smooth and silky like the petals of the asphodel flower in my palm that first morning. In a woven basket on the sink, I find a wide-toothed comb, toothpaste, and a tub of creamy white lotion that smells like the soap.

  When I return to my bedroom, hugging the soft robe around me, a short stack of clean clothes already waits on the bed. They aren’t mine, but they do fit – more of Madna’s magic. I silently thank the stars for her existence and her generosity to strangers such as Lexan and me.

  The clothing is strange, much of it like Stian’s. I settle on a pair of loose, lightweight tan pants with a drawstring waist, and a soft, close-fitting ruby-colored shirt with sleeves only to my elbows. There are no buttons or zippers on the shirt, and it feels wonderful against my clean skin, just like a better version of an undershirt.

  I slip Mother’s ring onto my hand – my left ring finger, just where a partnership ring would go. I enjoy the small symbolism, and smile to myself as I try not to dance down the stairs, damp curls bouncing along my back.

  I hear Madna humming in a nearby room. When I join her, I see she is scrubbing the dirt from my tunics, and I quickly move to help her.

  “Your friend seems very devoted to you. His eyes follow you everywhere,” Madna smiles as she hands me a clean tunic to wring dry.

  “Yes, Stian worries too much about me,” I say, returning her warm smile.

  She frowns a little. “Stian? Yes, I suppose he does worry about your safety. But I meant the other, the one who came with you.”

  “Lexan?” I ask in surprise. “Yes, I guess he worries a lot too. I think he feels responsible for me, because...of some things we've been through. But I'm not sure about devoted...Lexan and I haven't always been very good friends. It's complicated.”

  “Oh, yes, love is complicated, sweetheart. I don't know what you children have been through, and I surely believe it will get worse before it gets better. But a woman who has been around as long as I have can see when a person cares for another and when they don't. That Lexan would follow you anywhere. He needs you, I think.”

  As she pauses to scrub harder, I puzzle over the word love, and the word need. Neither fits with my definition of Lexan.

  “But Stian, he’s too careful with his heart to lend it to anyone, from what I've seen. He lives for his people, for his missions. That doesn't mean he can't love you. But it also doesn't mean he can't leave you if it becomes necessary.”

  She hands me the last tunic, bustling out the door to attend to another task. I hear a door slam somewhere, and voices.

  “Stian was showing me the gardens and Madna’s cellar,” Lexan says when I enter the kitchen. He tosses me a red apple, cool and still crisp from last autumn’s harvest.

  “You look different in Madna’s clothes,” Stian says, eyes sliding over the close-fitting shirt. I flush a little under his gaze, thinking of Madna’s words.

  The morning passes lazily. Lexan and I practice outside with our bows and knives, while Stian watches from the shade of the front porch. We don’t talk much, just stretch our tired muscles out of their soreness, try not to think about what we’ve lost in the last week, or even what we’ve gained.

  After lunch, I deci
de to lie down for a nap – a luxury I haven’t had in weeks. The sunlight filters dreamily through the curtains, and I drift in and out of sleep, images of Stian and Lexan slipping through my head as my brain tries to sort them into categories.

  Dinner is a happy affair, with laughter from everyone. Lexan entertains Madna by reading her zodiac from his ministry book. Unlike Stian, she knows exactly when she was born, and she laughs in delight as Lexan pegs each part of her personality in his little book. She is a Taurus, like Brenn, and tears pool in my eyes as I hear the descriptions: dependable, stubborn, patient, caring.

  I hope he is alive, but I’m afraid of what Keirna might do if he is.

  Just as I think the day is ending, Madna smiles knowingly at Stian before disappearing into a locked room. Stian, sitting close to me at the large table, tenses strangely. Madna emerges seconds later, holding a large, worn book that looks even older than her.

  “Everyone who passes through this house has to leave a message in this book,” she says. “My people have lost so much of their history. It’s up to us to record a new one. Astrea, I’m an archivist of people, and I want to you to leave your thoughts here.”

  “Can’t that wait until another time?” Stian asks, his tone catching my attention. “I’m sure she’d like to go to bed soon.”

  “It’s okay, Stian, I don’t mind.” I reach my hand for the book, and he moves to intercept. Madna’s face darkens slightly. Lexan watches the exchange with narrowed eyes, and I know something is wrong.

  “Stian, you know the rules of this house.” Madna closes the book to her chest, then steps around him, offering it again to me. “Astrea, take this back to your room, and think about what you might write for the future to read.”

  Glancing guiltily at Stian, I accept the book. He glares at the floor, purposefully not looking at me. What is his problem? He’s right: I would much rather sleep than search for the words that could possibly describe my life right now. But the simple fact that he doesn’t want me to have this book ensures that I will take it now.

  “Here, Madna, let me help you clean the dishes,” Lexan says, rising and placing a hand on her shoulder. They leave the room, and I silently thank him for always knowing what I need.

  “Stian,” I begin.

  “No, wait. Tre, I know you want to please Madna. But you don’t have to do this now.” His hands have found their way to my shoulders, a few of his fingers brushing the book I hold clutched to my chest.

  I look into his eyes, seeing a small fear there. I wonder again – what is in this book that scares him? I have to find out. As he holds my gaze, pleading with me, I close my heart. I send him courage. I wait. He nods. He withdraws his hands, retreats, and is gone from the room. I hear water and a clink of dishes from the kitchen, and Madna’s laughter reaches me. I turn and hurry to my room, my heart skittering in anticipation.

  Sitting on the soft bed, I open the book to the first page. It’s a journal, with the first entry dated nearly fifty years ago, and signed by Madna herself.

  July 4, 2137, Madna

  I’m beginning this journal tonight as a way to chronicle our journey to freedom. Our world is in shambles – pieces fragmented over the bleak land. The land we live on used to be a great country, founded in the spirit of individual liberty and pursuit of happiness. All that remains of that now is scattered, broken people. But there is hope, as well, brimming in the eyes of the Tribes, and their spies within the new cities. I have built this safe house on a foundation of this borrowed hope, and I vow to open my doors to all who sympathize with our cause of freedom for all people. Fifty years ago, our world ended. Tonight, we move one step closer to a new beginning.

  All who stay in my house will be asked to write in this journal, to chronicle their own struggles in the journey to freedom. I hope that one day this book will become a piece of our new history – an artifact to replace all those lost in the Cleansing.

  Again the word cleansing raises small bumps on my arms as I think of the cruelty and arrogance that could create such an idea.

  I turn the pages slowly, reading bits from each entry, but most of them don’t make much sense to me. There is a lot of pain contained here, and my soul begins to feel heavy with the weight of emotion written into each line. Perhaps Stian wished to keep me from this new sadness.

  I begin to flip more quickly through whole chunks of entries, looking for the end. The last entry is less than a week ago – Madna had visitors who nearly crossed our path. I read, beginning to feel uneasy.

  March 24, 2185, Thadd

  We follow our brother, and countless others before him, searching for the lost city of Asphodel. Our Tribe has sent many to find this city, with no luck and many lives lost. We hope to determine whether Asphodel has evolved into friends of the Tribes, or if we will soon meet old enemies again.

  I realize with a start that this could have even been the trio we met in the forest, only a day’s journey from Asphodel. My stomach heaves with the renewed image of the sinewy man, heaving, glaring, my knife buried in his gut, Stian slicing cleanly through his neck to ease his death. Stian hadn’t admitted to knowing them, but their appearance had certainly shaken his courage. And if he knew them - killed them to protect me? I blink away from the page quickly.

  Moving backward in time, I reverse the pages, searching for something to calm the small nagging feeling in the back of my brain. Instead, my heart stops, afraid to beat again.

  March 1, 2185, Stian

  I’ve written in Madna’s book many times, but this is the most important entry I will ever make. I pause here tonight to gain courage and love from a woman who is like a mother to me. Tomorrow I continue my mission to find the lost underground city of Asphodel. This mission was given to me by the Tribe, and I may not return until I fulfill it. There is a real possibility that I may die before that happens, but my Tribe will only send another. I seek a way into the city, information about its inner workings, how many live within its walls. But the heart of my mission is to determine if the prophecy has begun.

  Inside the city I will search for a young girl with diamonds implanted in her cheek. If I find her, I must search her mind to see if there is another, a boy, also with diamonds. I don’t know the age of these children I seek, but if they exist, it will signify that the prophecy has indeed begun, and my people will soon need to prepare for battle. When they turn seventeen, everything will change.

  If I find this girl, I am charged with kidnapping her, coercing her to come with me using any available means, and bringing her to my Tribe, where we will keep her imprisoned until Asphodel rises from the earth and comes to retrieve their princess.

  If I complete this mission, I will be allowed to return to my people and my life there, with honor. I will need courage, luck, cunning, and strength of body and mind.

  There is nothing more important than what lies ahead of me.

  I cannot breathe. With the innocence of ink scratched onto a page, my world has cracked in two, and I have fallen into the dark space between.

  The words using any available means swim before my eyes. Exactly what means did Stian find available to use with me? I was as open for him as this book.

  A silly, naïve young girl.

  I wait for anger to light me on fire, hoping for the release of fury to show me that I am still capable of emotion. But as the minutes pass and the room grows softly orange with the slanting sun, I still feel only a great, wide emptiness as I prepare to lose another person who has become dear to me.

  Betrayal has hollowed my heart. Stian, Lexan, Father, Mother. Every person I have cared about has betrayed me, except for Brenn. And I left him to die in the Ministration Room, while I escaped with my kidnapper.

  I remember how Stian promised me, only a few short days ago, that I could keep my soul if I followed him out of Asphodel. I could choose life and a future of my own instead of waiting for Keirna’s plan to end me.

  In choosing Stian, I thought I was gaining all I’d ever wanted.


  I never expected to lose everything to him instead.

  I may still have a soul, but it is a pitiful thing without my heart.

  I lie unmoving on the bed, my hands still resting on the page that shattered my spirit, waiting to be swallowed by this great emptiness. I hear small noises from the house, from the outside. The door opens and I hear footsteps bring someone in the room, but I’m trapped inside myself, sinking beneath a weight of darkness.

  Perhaps this is the depression that claimed Mother so often, calling to me now.

  Some great time later I surface enough to realize someone still waits in the room. Curiosity is what finally forces my eyes open, and in the near-dark of the room I see Stian hunched over the dresser, his elbows resting on the scratched wooden top, his head bent toward his hands. His back curves away from me, and his hair falls forward, hiding his eyes from me. I think he is whispering prayers to the darkness.

  I jerk upright, realizing he waits here to ask me to choose again, to choose between the Stian I knew a few hours ago, and the Stian I know now. Until he entered my room and waited so patiently, until he bent himself away from me in shame, I never realized I could have such a choice.

  Can we really go back – can we obliterate what has been written in this book by inscribing a different story in our hearts?

  Again, Stian has somehow offered me a small ration of control over my own life, the control that I so desperately need to feel. And so, though I can barely believe what I’m doing, I make the choice neither of us thought would be possible.

  I move to stand next to him, so many questions swirling in my head. I have no idea what to say. As he senses me, he shakes his head as if to agree that words are too hard. His knees bend even as he reaches toward me, and his face sinks against my stomach, my fingers tangling in his too-long hair. I brush the strands from his cheeks, still not trusting my voice, and soon I feel that his cheek is lined with moisture.