Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  From Personal Journal of First Leader Firene

  Published after her death, year 2170

  “Stian went ahead to scout for the hunting parties. We’ll leave as soon as he gets back,” Zarea says as I stretch myself out of sleep. It is barely daybreak.

  Lexan is nearby, rubbing a wet cloth on his face and neck, trying to wash away the dust and sweat from the day before. We still haven’t discussed what he did with the tornado, and it hangs between us, a fog of uncertainty.

  “How long do you think I have?” I ask, pulling a handful of dried meat from a pocket on my pack. Maybe I have time for a sponge bath too. I yawn and scratch under my head wrap, then pull it back down to cover my implants.

  Zarea freezes, her eyes fixed on something behind me.

  Her mouth forms a small “no” but the morning is silent.

  Then I hear the footsteps behind me, and I swivel. A spear meets my face, its point denting my cheek. Confusion begins to bloom into a breathless sort of dread.

  “No!” Zarea’s voice splits the air, and the word seems to ripple down my body, sending a rumble of vibrations into the very dirt at my feet. I’m not sure who she’s talking to - me or the dirty, grinning hunter who stands before me.

  “Abraham will be so pleased with you,” the man says in a soft, careful voice, his mouth opening even wider to show gaps between some of his teeth.

  The name ricochets around my brain for too many seconds before Stian steps into the clearing. He is followed by two younger men, equally dirty and grinning. They have spears pointed toward him as well, but his expression shows no fear.

  The whole earth feels like it’s shifting.

  “How could you?” Zarea whispers, her voice so quiet that I’m not sure if anyone else can hear her. Stian doesn’t react to any of it, only stares into the trees beyond us. Blank and closed. Has he been captured again? Has he tried to bargain and lost?

  “Well, let me see, then,” the man holding me hostage drops his spear a foot or so, leveling it at my chest, directly over my thumping heart. My head barely reaches his shoulders. “Are you the Maiden or aren’t you?”

  Lexan slides a step closer to me, his hands raised before him in a non-threatening gesture. A single second to search his eyes is all I need.

  We have six knives hidden between us, but they wouldn’t be much against three waiting spears. Calling fire is too risky. Scattered as we are, there are too many ways for them to attack: a knife slipped between Stian’s ribs, a spear pushed into my chest. Somehow the option of fighting is rendered useless, and we all seem to know it.

  Fear is a product of the unknown action, and without a single word, we have already agreed: the knowledge that we won’t be fighting right now evaporates any fear spiraling down my spine. Instead, I focus on watching.

  The man grunts at Lexan with impatience, and I see his eyes slide over Lexan’s implants. The spear point presses harder into my shirt, but I refuse to flinch.

  Lexan says, “We are the star children. From Asphodel. But everything else you know is a lie.” His voice carries clearly around the clearing, but his eyes are locked on the man’s, and the man’s on Lexan.

  I see the change come over the hunter, and I bite back a smile. He believes Lexan’s thoughts, whatever they are - not Stian’s words, whatever they may have been. His spear slips a few inches, his muscles slackening.

  Then he glares, still not able to break eye contact. “Stian!”

  Stian steps forward a few paces, his guards matching him.

  “These are just children! How could they have any real power? You have brought frauds, and Abraham will have your life for this failure!” The man shakes in anger, and finally Stian manages to look worried. I’m not sure what to feel: it’s clear now that Stian has indeed tried to bargain - but was it with our lives or for them?

  Stian speaks slowly, choosing the right words. “They are not just children. They have power as real as those spears, but it is not meant for Abraham to wield.” He steps again, now close enough to break the man’s connection with Lexan. “Caine, I completed my mission! But I have not unburied Justice and her Scale of Balance just so Abraham could use them to grow stronger. I have brought the star children here to change the world.” He squares his shoulders and glares. “We’re starting with Hadeon.”

  All is silent for several long minutes. In the trees above us, a bird trills a song of lightness, or of danger.

  Finally the man laughs in light amusement and lowers his spear. “Abraham will be so pleased with you,” he says again, dipping his head to Zarea in mock respect.

  In a rush, I remember. Abraham is the leader of Hebron. Stian’s Tribe. The leader who sent Stian on a suicide mission, then sent Zarea after him to watch the destruction.

  “Let’s go home, prodigal daughter,” he says, raising his head and showing his broken teeth again. Zarea tosses her head and looks away from him.

  The four of us are efficiently herded by the three of them. Our visible weapons have been confiscated, although I have a knife against my belly and another in my boot. We are so loaded with packs and supplies that running would not be possible. Ropes loop around each of our waists and tie us to one another - not uncomfortably, but bearing the unmistakable mark of prisoner. And the point of a spear teases our bare arms from time to time, reminding us to walk just a little faster. Even if I could focus enough to call fire, there are too many things that could go wrong.

  “Burn in hell, Caine,” Zarea spits as his spearhead snakes down her arm.

  He chuckles. “I’m more worried about sunburn here, pretty little cousin.”

  Stian makes a noise like a growl and Caine only laughs more. I glance up at the sun, which has chased away all the clouds and is now beaming at us. The heat intensifies with each step.

  I remember what Stian said about the sun burning skin like fire, and my stomach begins to twist in anticipation. My bare neck and arms are hot and itchy with sweat.

  “Are you afraid?” the youngest of them leans in to ask me. He can’t be much older than me, with wavy brown hair and green eyes like Stian’s. “The Maiden isn’t supposed to be afraid of anything.”

  “Then I guess you have the wrong girl,” I answer, looking away.

  “I’m Eamon,” the boy says, his voice soft enough that the others probably can’t hear. “I hope we don’t have the wrong girl.”

  I look back at him a little too sharply, and he grins as though I just answered his question. And I guess I did. I glimpse a half-smile from Lexan before he straightens his mouth.

  With each step, my mind pulls back and forth over Stian’s apparent betrayal.

  Left foot: he betrayed us.

  Right foot: he was captured.

  Left: he will pay for this treason.

  Right: he’s trying to find a way out.

  We march at a fast pace until the sun is directly above us - maybe a dozen miles - before I start to hear the sounds of other people. It bothers me to realize how close we really had been to Hebron.

  The first to find us are the children. Stringy and wild, they dart like animals from between the trees, shaking the leaves with their giggles and pretend war cries. They point at us and whisper, then follow us like a ceremonial parade.

  Just as we reach camp, Caine halts our procession. He winks at me as he pulls up my sweat-soaked shirt and slides my knife out, his fingers rough and lingering too long on my bare stomach. My face burns in anger and embarrassment.

  Stian grumbles a curse under his breath, but Caine only laughs again. Now he reminds me of the man I helped kill - Thadd. The one who watched his friends die and only laughed. Until my knife met his belly. I wonder…will I need to do that again?

  He wields my knife to slash the ropes that bind Zarea and Stian, but not the ones around Lexan and me. The message is again clear: back home, there are only two prisoners.

  Lexan and I are led through a small clearing, where several people stop walking or cooking or washing to stare at us
in amazement. Caine pushes us into a cone-shaped dwelling that manages to look sturdy and insubstantial at the same time. Inside is dark and musty. Smoke from a recent fire drifts toward an opening in the top, where a circle of blue sky provides the only light.

  “Wait here,” Caine smiles eternally as he exchanges our rope for a thick metal chain that he locks to a stake shoved into the center of the grass floor. He exits, turning over the door flap and leaving us in near darkness.

  Lexan sighs and maneuvers enough to sit, shrugging the packs he carries onto the floor, although his arms are still looped through the straps. The angle of the chain tugs me down next to him and I lean partially against the stake, partially against his shoulder. I ease my shoulders from under my own packs and stretch my legs. My feet brush the edge of the round tent.

  I can hear voices outside, but the words are too muffled by the fabric walls.

  “How did this happen?” I ask, more to myself than anything.

  “It looks like Stian turned us in,” Lexan answers. “After we told him no.”

  I twist around to be able to look into his eyes. He meets my gaze coolly, without blinking. I can’t see any spite or jealousy there to promote a comment like that - only fatigue and a hint of determination. After a long minute, he just shrugs and closes his eyes, content to wait.

  “Maybe he was captured and didn’t have a choice,” I say. Lexan doesn’t respond, and his silence speaks more than his words could: if Stian were really as good at tracking as he claims, he shouldn’t have been captured once, much less twice. And of course, there’s always a choice. A bargain to be made.

  “We could escape, you know,” I say a few minutes later.

  He doesn’t even open his eyes, just shakes his head.

  “I have a knife in my boot.”

  “I know. But they probably have people guarding us. I don’t want to hurt someone innocent. And I’d rather wait and see what they want. Somehow I don’t think we’re in any real danger.”

  “Yet,” I mutter. I swear the ground rumbles under my fingers again, but it’s gone again just as quickly.

  Lexan slits open one eye. “Just save your energy, Trea. We’ll escape later.”

  I don’t like it, but I know he’s right. We need to see what they want with us. It’s better to know their plan before we make a countermove.

  “Thanks, by the way. For lying next to me in the truck yesterday. It was nice…of you.”

  I can hear the smile in his voice. A flush creeps over my cheeks at the thought that he knew I was curled around his body. I don’t want to look at him.

  So instead I stare up into the opening and watch for wisps of white clouds to pass. My thoughts behave in much the same way, and soon I find myself forgetting about Lexan, and wondering again if Stian really did turn us in.

  I don’t want to believe it - surely he wouldn’t go against everyone’s wishes or put me in danger, but there is a lot of evidence. Most of it could be explained away, but the lump of doubt sits in the pit of my stomach like a meal my body can’t digest.

  At some point the door flap opens and Eamon ducks in. I glimpse a pair of nicely-armed guards outside the door before the flap falls back in place. Eamon carries wide pottery mugs of cool water and chunks of dark, coarse bread wrapped in a bit of cloth, still warm from baking. He hands me the bigger piece of bread.

  “You’ll be in here for a while,” he says as he watches me sip my water. I dip the cloth in the water and scrub the dirt from my face and neck. Eamon ducks his head, hiding his eyes. “Abraham likes to do that - keep prisoners waiting. So ask the guards outside if you need to, erm, go.” He hurries from the tent.

  “I think someone has a crush,” Lexan laughs. I slap at his bare shoulder and he flinches. “Easy. I think I got some of that sunburn. My arms were red earlier, and now they feel itchy and tight, like my skin is shrinking.”

  I run my fingers down his arm, but it doesn’t feel any different to me. Perhaps a little warmer. He grimaces at my touch, so I stop.

  “My skin doesn’t feel any different. Why would you burn and not me?”

  “Guess I’m just delicate like that. So what has Stian told you about their Tribe? Rea always changes the subject when I ask. What can we expect?”

  “I have no idea. We never seem to talk much. About that stuff, I mean,” I add when Lexan’s eyes narrow. “Mainly he told me about his missions and how they execute people if they come back before a mission is complete.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this Abraham person. He reminds me of Keirna.”

  I sigh, agreeing but not wanting to voice it. “Maybe Stian has a good plan. Maybe he’s actually important, like a head protector, or the Leader’s son,” I muse after several moments of silence, remembering the lie Lexan once told his sister about Stian.

  Lexan snorts. “He certainly isn’t leadership material. More like the prodigal son.”

  “The what?” I sit up straight, pulling against our shared chain.

  “Prodigal son. Rea told me this story once - it’s part of their religion. There was a son who ran away with his father’s money and lost it all. But when he finally returned, his father welcomed him home anyways. I guess it’s about forgiveness.”

  “Lex, that’s what Caine called Zarea, back at camp. Didn’t you hear him? He called her prodigal daughter!”

  Lexan twists and stares at me, one eyebrow raised in question. I can nearly see the machinations of his brain, slotting together every comment Zarea has made to us and to him, piecing it like a giant puzzle.

  “Do you really think-“

  “She must be-“

  We grin at each other. This revelation might not change anything, but it feels more like we’re doing something, just in figuring it out. Without warning, the flap opens wide and a shaft of sunlight washes into the tent, blinding us.

  “Let’s go see the lion in his den,” Caine says. He reaches between us to unlock the chain. I wonder if I could evade him while he is occupied, perhaps reach the knife still in my shoe. He turns his head and stares into my eyes, only inches away. “Don’t get any ideas of escape, little girl. Some of us think we only need one star for the prophecy. If you ask me, this boy’s just an extra mouth to feed.”

  My eyes widen as he pushes me aside and hauls Lexan to his feet. Two more men wait at the mouth of the tent, their spears leaning toward our tender, open skin. Fear finally blossoms in my stomach, and my heart flutters like petals in a harsh wind.

  Could their interpretation of the prophecy really be that different from ours?

  If there is more than one, how will I know which is true?

  Caine reties Lexan’s wrists, then passes him off. His fingers slide down my arms, guiding them together at my back. It takes everything I have not to recoil from the gratuitous touching. The ropes aren’t overly tight, but I can tell they would hold against my strength. Flames dance behind my eyes, but Lexan’s advice sticks with me: too many unknowns.

  Caine’s hand closes around my upper arm as he guides me into the sunlight.

  I stumble as I walk beside him, my eyes taking too long to adjust. Too soon we stop again and I blink around at a semi-circle of people. Everyone is whispering and pointing to Lexan and me.

  At the apex of the crowd wait two large, empty chairs, flanked by several smaller stools. Surrounding this are men and women with spears at attention and knives glinting at their waists. They are dressed in a strange mix of animal hides and regular clothing, as though there isn’t enough of either to clothe everyone consistently.

  I have no idea what is about to happen, but it’s obvious that Abraham is keen on attention and ceremony, and this alone makes me feel more confident. This I can understand - thanks to Keirna, this I can use.

  A hush falls over the crowd and a gap forms as a tall man stalks through the people, stopping before the larger of the two chairs. His dark hair curls past his shoulders, and his beard is streaked with gray. Despite the late spring warmth, he wears a long ro
be pieced from several animal skins, and carries a spear thicker than his own wrist.

  He turns and gestures to the corridor of people, and then Zarea enters, followed by several young men and women. All have dark bands tattooed around their wrists and arms, and all have blood-red hashes inked through the black lines. Last among them is Stian. They wear the loose, woven clothing of hunters. Zarea stands apart - she wears a long dress of brushed animal skins, and a chain of thin gold links that circles her neck, twists between her breasts, then opens again to enclose her slim waist, looping back to hang down the front of her thighs.

  The warriors seat themselves at the smaller chairs, and Zarea settles into one of the larger ones. Her spine is stiff and she looks at nobody, but my pulse pounds, knowing Lexan and I guessed correctly. If Zarea is the chief’s daughter, surely we have a chance at winning the Tribe.

  The man who must be Abraham remains standing, surveying his people. He looks at each person in turn, gauging their attentiveness. Nobody so much as whispers to their neighbor. Every child is silent.

  If this is Stian’s boast of freedom, I’d rather deal with Keirna.

  I catch Lexan’s glance and he rolls his eyes, then turns back to Zarea. She continues to stare blankly into the distance, not meeting our eyes. Stian’s head is bent toward his wrists, and I notice they are swollen from new tattoos.

  I wonder how many red hash marks he earned this time.

  Abraham raises one hand and everyone turns to look at us. “Show us what you have, Caine.”

  Caine pulls me forward and yanks the strip of fabric from my forehead. The other guard pushes Lexan next to me and Abraham comes closer to inspect our implants.

  He turns and addresses Zarea. “These are the markings of the star children?” She nods once, her gaze cold.

  “They are only constellations,” I say, and Abraham’s face whips back to me. Evidently he hadn’t expected a prisoner to speak to him. Caine slaps a sweaty palm over my mouth and ducks his head and shoulders in deference.