Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  “A very small group came from Elysium that summer, traveling in those silent boxes, whooshing across the ground like magic. Not magic, though. Just technology they’d saved from before the Cleansing. Kept hidden away at the end of the world with the rest of their treasures.” She grunts. “Selfish.”

  “But why did they come? Were they stopping on their way to find Asphodel?”

  “Lord, no,” she laughs and pauses to fork in another bite of meat. “I don’t imagine they care a jot about finding Asphodel. If the maiden ever does come, it’ll be up to her to find them.” Mama Rose pauses and glares right at me. “They came here because the True Prophet told ‘em to.”

  “The True Prophet?” This is the same name used for the person who predicted the maiden of Justice - and that was over a hundred years ago. “Does the title pass on?”

  Mama Rose shrugs. “I guess they always have someone who talks to the gods. Hopefully they speak the truth.”

  “The gods or the prophets?”

  She shrugs again and picks indifferently at a tooth. “The story they gave us was that there would be another important child born from one of the Tribes. Just like the maiden of Justice, there would be others to help clean up the mess those sisters made.”

  “The sisters who caused the Cleansing...” I struggle to remember their names.

  Mama Rose rolls her eyes at me. I should know this, but I haven’t thought about these stories in such a long time - maybe even before Father died. “Lakessa of Asphodel, Aisa of Elysium, and Clota of Tartarus,” she supplies, reciting the names like a tired schoolteacher.

  I nod. “So how come I’ve never heard this story about Abraham?”

  “Maybe you never sat still long enough to hear it.” Her tone is grumpy, probably because I keep interrupting her.

  But I just can’t let it go. “Is it because I came here late? After the children’s school was over? Or is it a story that’s hidden?”

  “Not hidden. Just not told. There’s a difference, you know.”

  I know she’s right, but I’m still curious why this story isn’t in my memory at all. In the cold months the Tribe tells so many stories around the common fire that surely I would have heard something so important.

  “Nobody thinks it’s important anymore,” I begin, the idea coming suddenly.

  She nods, but lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

  “Nobody except the person it’s really about…and they want it hidden?” I guess.

  Mama Rose cackles and smacks my shoulder. “Sometimes you see things.” She laughs again.

  “So did they ever find her? The other maiden?”

  She shakes her head. “They didn’t look, far as I could tell. That was the true mystery of it. They stayed around here for a few weeks socializing, then headed back to the ocean, I guess. And nothing since.”

  “There has to have been something. What was different when they left?”

  “Nothing. We packed up camp to move for the winter. A bunch of the young guys went west on a scout mission, and we moved. Guess they could have gone on to Kedesh, looked somewhere else for that girl.” She stands and begins cleaning the dishes from our meal; her back to me is a signal that her story is done.

  I drop the scrap of fabric into the fire, watching the drawing shrivel. I can’t help but think there is more to this half-hidden tale. I just need to ask the right people.

  For now, though, I need to head to the common fire and see what has happened to make Thadd accept such a mission so soon after his return.

  When I arrive, the fire is crowded with noise and laughter. Someone slaps Thadd on the back and passes him a flask of the over-sweet wine we make from the summer berries.

  Someone else shouts a toast, and he drinks deeply.

  I slip into the circle, almost unnoticed. Scanning the group, I don’t see Zarea, which makes me curious.

  “What’s the occasion, friend?” I lean toward the cluster of young men and women surrounding Thadd.

  “I have accepted a mission to find the lost city!” he shouts. His words are already a bit slurred. He raises the flask in salute to me and I grin and play along.

  “And you’ll rescue the buried princess from her underground prison?”

  “Yes!” he agrees, yelling the word.

  “And return the conquering hero?” I add.

  “Yes!” He drinks again.

  “Keep dreaming that futile dream,” a voice calls from the darkness outside of the fire’s reach. Heads swivel and my heart surges as Zarea steps into the circle of light and laughter.

  She grins at Thadd, but her eyes have a hard quality to them - the firelight reflects back on us like shards of rock. “Everyone knows Asphodel is a dead city. If the maiden is there, she’s nothing but a pile of bones.”

  He tries to stand to address her, but he stumbles a bit. I reach over to catch his elbow and steady him.

  “Or she’s not even born yet! Nobody’s coming to save us!” Another voice calls from the crowd.

  “Or she’s just a helpless baby!” Yet another person. And herein lies the problem. None of us actually knows what awaits us if we ever find Asphodel. There is nothing concrete in the prediction except the time, and even that is beginning to seem like a cruel joke. I think again of the calendar on the walls of the map house.

  Sixteen years past the due date, and no sign of a savior or a city.

  Zarea sits near me, but not too close, and Thadd sinks back down heavily. Conversation swirls around us - more of the same. Rumors and gossip. Laughter and boasting. Some people say we don’t even need a savior, but until the Destroyer is toppled from his throne in Tartarus, I’ll never agree.

  I glance at Zarea and she meets my eyes. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking if she’s ready to leave. But she shakes her head, twitching a finger at me to wait.

  “So Thadd,” she calls over the noise. People settle when she speaks, like they do for Abraham. No. Different - they settle for her because they respect her. “What makes you think you’ll be successful when nobody else has?”

  He grins the way only a drunk man can. “Luck, beautiful. Time is on my side - time is on our side!” A few people cheer with him.

  “And who will you take as your protector?” she asks. This really quiets everyone, and I know she’s onto something.

  “Where I’m going, nobody can protect me,” Thadd answers, flushing.

  “So it’s true, then. You’re taking the Hero’s Mission?” Her voice cuts through the night easily now, as true silence surrounds us. A log in the fire cracks in half, sending a brief shower of sparks into the air above us. I look deliberately around the circle and no eyes meet mine.

  Nobody has taken a Hero’s Mission since my father.

  If Thadd fails, he can never return to the Tribe - an unaccomplished Hero’s Mission is grounds for death. But if he succeeds, he can have whatever he wants. It takes me only seconds to process the implications.

  If Abraham is offering a Hero’s Mission to Thadd, he will be offering me the same when we meet for lunch tomorrow: he is eradicating his competition.

  My hopes for six months of rest are collapsing inward like the branches in the fire before me.

  People gradually begin to recover from the revelation, and Thadd is bombarded with questions and new congratulations. I stand and walk into the night without even a glance backward. My gossip-gut is indeed full.

  Not long after I fasten the door flap of my tent, a scratching noise echoes across the tough hide. One long drag across the surface, then a flurry of soft flicks across the edge.

  A grin works its way onto my face, and I unhook the clasps. Zarea slips in silently and waits for me to lock us in.

  “Thadd will never make it,” she says then.

  I shrug. I don’t think he will either, but I’m still reeling from the repercussions of Abraham offering up a Hero’s Mission.

  “It’s not just coincidence, Rea. Abraham knows Thadd and I are never home at the same time. He’s pitting
us against each other.”

  “I know.” Her voice is soft enough that I know she’s been aware of this plan far longer than I have. Then, “Caine, too.”

  I can only stare at her. This is worse than I imagined. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And ruin your first night back? Sorry,” she laughs, but the sound is hollow.

  “How are you involved in this?” I ask the only question I need to know, and the only one whose answer I might not be able to handle.

  She looks at her fingers, laced together in her lap. A flicker of light seems to highlight the single red hash on her forearm.

  “Rea-“

  “I won’t do it.”

  I wait a few more minutes. When she says nothing else, I move to sit closer to her and gather her in my arms.

  “I won’t do it, Sti. I’d rather run away.”

  “Tell me.”

  She shifts and looks up at me finally, her face barely visible in the light of my single candle.

  “Caine will be offered the mission too. And you.”

  I nod, reassuring her that this is not more than I have expected from her father.

  “None of you will get protectors - all of you must accept a Hero’s Mission.”

  I sigh. “Rea, just tell me.”

  She looks down, hiding her eyes. “He told me I must marry the first to return. He will only surrender Leadership to my husband. Not me.”

  “The Hero’s Recompense,” I say softly, my head feeling dizzy. Some part of me had known that was an option - Thadd had hinted it was even a likelihood. But hearing it from her trembling lips is almost more than I can handle.

  “One of you three will be Hebron’s next Leader. Even if I run, there’s no escaping that.”

  Zarea’s pleading voice makes me look up.

  “So you would run? Then run with me! We can go together!”

  She shakes her head like a small child who can’t understand. “I can’t. Hebron is my people. I can’t leave them to Caine.”

  I know she’s right, but I can’t help but feel selfish. Hebron has never helped me while Abraham destroyed my life, one person at a time. I don’t owe them - not really.

  “Then I’ll defeat the mission and we’ll marry and lead together.”

  She shakes her head, and even though she’s afraid to speak the words, I know this argument.

  The sharp knife of betrayal slices into its waiting space between my ribs. “So you don’t think I would be the first?” My voice is tight - she has to know she’s on dangerous ground here.

  “No, Stian! I know you would be the first - in a fair fight!” She stands, her shoulders shaking in anger. “But I also know Caine would sooner kill you than let you return at all! He will hunt you and Thadd down before he even begins to look for Asphodel. You’re both as good as dead if you take this mission!”

  “I can evade him.”

  “No, you can’t. He’s a better tracker than you, and you know it. You’d be just like your father. Shot in the back while-”

  And with that, I’m done. “Get out,” I tell her, unfastening the tent flap as quickly as I can with trembling fingers.

  And she goes, not even bothering to look back.

  I sink to the hard-packed ground, my head pulsing in my hands. How has my life come to this - how did it dissolve so quickly into the nightmare of my father’s unwanted legacy?

  FOUR

  Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city.

  Proverbs 16: 32

  The Holy Bible, saved from before the Cleansing

  I barely sleep and as soon as the sun bears enough light to navigate, I borrow one of the hunters’ horses and I’m gone. I don’t need to hunt, but I need the distance and speed a horse can gain me.

  I ride recklessly for miles and miles, cantering beyond the edge of our summer territory before I realize where I’ve guided the horse.

  If its direction stayed constant, I should be extremely close to the path of the strange vehicle.

  The roan is happy enough to be tied off near a stream and within reach of good grass. I silently climb a tall tree to search for signs of the vehicle. A tendril of smoke leads my eyes in the right direction, and I pinpoint the location with landmarks before jumping back to the ground. In my stupid, blind riding, I’ve come within a mile of their camp.

  Keeping to the shadows of the waking morning, I slip from tree to tree, stopping about a hundred feet from their fire. Two fair-haired men sit, drinking from silver mugs. The vehicle is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if it is too large to navigate this section of forest.

  I hope so. Men traveling on foot are slower and even easier to track. Their camp is maybe twenty miles from our summer village - one to two days’ travel for someone unaccustomed to their surroundings. I’m a little surprised one of our watchmen hasn’t come across them yet; it’s only a matter of time and the revolutions of the guards’ paths.

  Dropping to my belly and elbows, I snake-crawl through the tall grass and low-lying shrubs until I’m barely ten feet away, tucked beneath the leaves of a large shrub. I relax each of my muscles until my body is loose and settled into position. I need to listen and gain as much information as possible.

  Even if either of those guys were smart enough to look down, the foliage would hide my face. But I can tell by their baby-smooth skin that they don’t have that kind of intelligence. They are not from a Tribe - indoor living is all too evident in their movements.

  “I wish the shuttle were still of use. I do not like these woods,” one says. He appears much younger than the other, with barely a shimmer of blond beard along his jawbone.

  “Serenity, Jonath. The plan must go forth, regardless of our own shortcomings.”

  “But in all these days of travel you have never told me the plan. I am still only here to do your bidding. You must tell me something.”

  I bite back a smile at the boy’s grumbles. He is far too soft to be sent on a mission. Still, he is likely close to my age. Just not yet hardened by the disappointments of the world.

  They are quiet for several minutes, eating dried fruit and small discs of something that could be bread. I feel my own stomach begin to grumble, and I clench my muscles to halt the sound.

  “How do you even know this girl exists?” Jonath asks.

  “The Prophet’s vision, of course. She lives. She’s ready.”

  I startle at the mention of the Prophet - Mama Rose’s words echo in my mind - and I wonder if these men have come from Elysium to look again for the girl who wasn’t found twenty years ago.

  “But what will we do if you find the girl this time?” Jonath asks, stretching his legs out and leaning back to stare into the trees.

  “When I find her, we will bring her home with us, of course. She belongs in Elysium.”

  “But how can we explain everything to someone who’s never been there? Isn’t that why we never accept those raised outside of the Institute?”

  The older man sighs. “She is different. The True Prophet has spoken. The sisters will make an exception, and the girl will have to learn our ways.”

  “So it isn’t simply because she is Lady Thema’s daughter?”

  “Of course that’s it, you fool. But the sisters must agree to the Prophet’s whims, even if they go against custom. Politics are not for simple-minded people such as you. Your role here is simply to entice her.”

  A few beats of silence pass. Then Jonath looks up, nearly straight at me, and my breath stops in my throat.

  “And why have we not seen the infamous slavers of Tartarus? Or the guards of this cursed camp?”

  The older man only shrugs, and I wonder if I see a bit of fear on both their faces. I hope so, for Tartarus is not a place to ignore, and its Leader is not one to cross.

  As the silence extends, Jonath fidgets in aggravation. “Shall we leave, then?”

  “No. We must wait here another day before traveling the remaining distance, or we r
isk arriving too early. The Prophet was very specific.”

  “He will not know if we are a day early - I tire of this filth.”

  “The True Prophet must be obeyed!” The man stands abruptly and walks away from Jonath, slightly toward me. He grumbles under his breath, “And if you are not killed by their hunters, I will slit your complaining throat myself after we have the girl.”

  I bite my tongue hard to avoid a snicker. I’d feel the same way if I were traveling with such a greenstick.

  The man turns back to Jonath. “Do you still keep her portrait? You must return it to me before we arrive. You’re here to persuade her to come with us, not frighten her with your misplaced lust.”

  Jonath flushes a little. He fishes in the pocket of his long tunic and pulls out a roll of paper. He unrolls it and stares at it, then at the fire. I grin, realizing he has some idea of feelings for this girl he’s never met.

  “Will you at least tell me her name, Marcus?” he pleads, his cheeks reddening even more.

  Marcus grunts and shakes his head, then says, “Zarea.”

  The name knocks me off balance, and I nearly give away my position. Surely it can’t be.

  The boy holds the portrait higher and I strain my eyes enough to see a familiar curl to the portrait’s hair. A familiar slant to the eyes and smile. A likeness that isn’t perfect, but is nonetheless good enough to prove their claims. How could they possibly know what she looks like?

  Zarea wasn’t even born the last time they passed through - she’ll be eighteen this week. And even though she’s our Leader’s daughter and the only girl I’ve ever cared about, she’s not selfless enough to be a savior to the people.

  The paper leans dangerously close to the fire, and the man snatches it from the boy. He mutters something, but I’m no longer listening.

  I can’t let this happen. If she leaves with them, I might never find her again.

  Everything in me wants to kill them on the spot. But I force down the thirst for their blood, calling sense back into my brain. I still need more information - and I have a day left, if they are true to their Prophet. Perhaps Mama Rose could help me fit the pieces of this puzzle together.