The Redstar Rising Trilogy

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Rand never imagined he’d be bringing his sister anywhere near the place. He’d never been there himself. One step inside reminded him why he’d never had any desire.

  A wall of hot, humid air accosted him. He was grateful for the warmth, but not the stench—sweat, ale, sex, and Iam knows what else. It was enough to send the aches of withdrawal soaring to the front of his mind and make him want to vomit. He found himself squeezing Sigrid’s hand with a sweaty one of his own.

  Whores strutted around in every direction, wearing naught but beads and frills. They chatted with men of all types and classes, feigning laughs and interest. A group of off-duty guards sat in the corner. A man dressed as a noble lounged in a booth by the bar, three women all over him.

  It was like they’d left Pantego itself.

  A single hearth gave the big space a hellish, red glow. The outside balcony was mirrored inside with the same oak railings. Rand followed a Panpingese man with his eyes as a whore led him behind one of the many curtains. Back on ground level, a musician troupe kept the racket of the upstairs dealings quiet, playing eerie tunes on stringed instruments Rand hadn’t seen before. They appeared Shesaitju in origin but weren’t loud enough to completely mask the loud moans and grinding bodies echoing all around like a percussion line.

  Valin held out an arm. A bulky man crashed through the second-floor railing and hit the floor in front of them. Rand jumped back, Sigrid yelped. Men Rand recognized as more of Valin’s thugs rushed down the stairs and grabbed the fat man. A young, Glintish girl burst out of a room upstairs, covering her breasts as she shouted in her language. She had a cut on both her chin and brow. Rand caught himself staring at the girl from Glinthaven and hoped Sigrid didn’t notice. Their strange beauty had always enraptured him, skin the color of dark chocolate like Torsten’s. The music paused, only momentarily, as Valin’s men grabbed hold of the fat man and heaved him through the open doors and onto the Dockside streets. Not a moment later, everything returned to business as usual.

  “And that is why I’m glad I never had a daughter,” Valin remarked, brushing dust from his sleeve. "Clean this shog up. Now! It's bad for business."

  “Rand, I have a bad feeling about this,” Sigrid whispered.

  “It’s fine,” Rand replied. He drew her close, then noticed a booth with at least a dozen Drav Cra warriors crowded around. A naked woman danced in the middle of them, and they all gawked, motionless.

  “Manaroot,” Valin said as if reading Rand’s mind. “It makes the simplest things appear like magic, and it keeps the savages from tearing this place and my girls to pieces.”

  “A costly solution,” Codar added.

  “And a temporary one.”

  Valin snapped his fingers to two large men guarding a door behind the bar. They stepped aside to reveal a dark stairway. The sounds of merriment and stringed instruments were replaced by pounding. Rand saw light filtering through a curtain at the end of a long passage. The people beyond went silent, then half gasped and half broke out into raucous cheering.

  One of Valin’s men opened the door to their right and beckoned them in before Rand could see what was beyond the curtain.

  “Weapons,” the thug said, offering a hand. Rand glanced at Sigrid, who was busy looking to him for what to do.

  “I assure you, it’s merely a formality,” Valin said. “I can’t tell you how many people want me dead. It gets exhausting.”

  “I could say the same for myself,” Rand replied. “How do I know you won’t tie me up and hand me over to Redstar?”

  “Do you think that sword of yours is all that’s stopping me? Stop being a fool like all the other sanctimonious Shieldsmen. You aren’t one any longer.”

  Rand regarded his sister again. He could tell she didn’t like where they were, but it was too late now. He nodded her along, then unbuckled his sheath and handed it over. Sigrid did the same with the Drav Cra shortbow and bone-tipped arrows she’d taken from the Maiden’s Mugs.

  The guard stepped aside. Everyone else but Codar stayed in the hall. Rand guessed they were now in Valin’s personal office, judging by the fine mahogany desk stacked with writs and pay logs. Men like Valin didn’t stay rich without keeping track of everything.

  Months back, the Shield would have killed to be in this room, with access to enough shady dealings to wipe Valin Tehr and his gang from the face of Pantego for good. Valin didn’t care to blend in or lay low like the other gangs of Dockside or South Corner. He was happy to flaunt his debauchery and wealth, and Rand was starting to wonder if the Shield ever even wanted to take him down.

  A raid on The Vineyard wouldn’t cost many lives, and few within its walls were innocent. But a number of gangs vying for Valin’s underground kingdom, eager to make a name for themselves, sounded far worse than organized chaos beneath a self-proclaimed king. And if Rand previously had doubts Valin viewed himself that way, now he was sure.

  Valin’s self-portrait donned the wall behind his desk, an image of him leaning on his cane. It wasn’t exactly the same as the portraits of Glass Kingdom monarchs lining the Glass Castle halls, clutching a scepter topped with the Eye of Iam, but the parallels were clear enough. All around the room, more stunning works of art and foreign trinkets covered walls and filled shelves. There was a fishing spear with a shaft of Shesaitju blackwood and a stone point—it had to be centuries old. Across from it was a dwarven helm centuries older, patterns etched into the bronze with such precision craftsmanship, only gods seemed capable of crafting it.

  The room contained enough wealth for Valin to build a castle for himself, which had Rand questioning why he chose to remain in his underworld kingdom of shog-stained streets.

  “Codar, please fetch our guests here some of that Breklian brandy I love so much,” Valin requested, taking a seat behind his desk. He lifted his malformed leg onto the mahogany, groaned, and rubbed the knee.

  “I shouldn’t,” Rand said, a hint of desperation in his tone. Valin must have noticed it because his brow raised.

  “Ah yes, a man battling his vices,” Valin said, waving Codar to stop. “You’ll find few who understand better than I.”

  “Or how to get rich off them,” Sigrid remarked. Again, Rand nudged her to stay quiet. She’d always been the more rebellious of the two. The one to want to explore the streets after their parents put them down for bed. All her pent-up anger dealing with Trapp, just to have a place to live, clearly bubbling to the surface. The guilt of having to kill a man likely wasn’t helping either, even if she thought she was 'fine.'

  “See what we get for offering our hospitality?” Valin said to Codar. The Breklian merely shook his head in disapproval. He remained by the door, hands crossed behind his back, eyes on everything. “One can only profit off what he knows best, dear.”

  “Those girls upstairs—”

  “Those girls live better than half the louts in Dockside. And you saw what happens when a visitor doesn’t treat them like they’re my own flesh and blood.”

  “Then why don’t ye take one of their places on a bed.”

  “Siggy, stop,” Rand snapped.

  “I heard about more than just manaroot working for Trapp,” she continued, ignoring Rand.

  “All lovely things, I’m sure?” Valin said calmly.

  “Now there’s a word for it.”

  Valin laughed and clapped his hands. “Your sister has fire, Rand Langley. Eyes closed, and I’d question which one of you was the knight. A woman like her could—"

  Now it was Rand’s turn to step forward and grit his teeth. “Don’t you dare.”

  Valin shrugged. “Your loss. Men come here because they think they want a chance to control something for once in their gods-forsaken lives. They stay so they can lose control of everything in the arms of a goddess.”

  Rand lost his train of thought. Sigrid’s cheeks turned the same color as her ginger hair. Valin swung his leg down, then came limping around his desk toward Sigrid.

  “Yes, I see it now,” he
said. “Gideon Trapp was a fool to keep you all to himself in that dump.” He circled her and drew back her messy hair to accentuate her features. She shrugged him away. “Just a little polish, you could rival the Queen of Glass herself.”

  “Yer disgusting,” Sigrid spat.

  “Please, Mr. Tehr.” Rand stepped closer and took Valin by the arm. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Codar’s forearm tense out of reflex, ready to draw his dirk. Rand released Valin quickly and backed away. “You brought me here to discuss removing Redstar. We can’t waste any more time.”

  “By Iam, you’re right.” Valin turned back toward his desk. “These young ones do hate conversation, Codar.”

  “A shame,” Codar remarked.

  “Always wanting to get right to the destination when the riches are in the journey.” He plopped back down into his chair, and again, stretched out his leg. “So, tell me, Rand Langley. Why should we work together rather than fetch the hefty price your head is worth? Enough to buy your fair sister a farm of her own.”

  “Because together we can free the kingdom from Redstar’s grip.”

  “And why would you want that? He’s not hanging anyone like his sister. All he’s done is root out a traitor in the Royal Council, and drive a rebel army away from Winde Port.”

  “But… you said you wanted to get rid of him.” If Rand wasn’t nervous already, he was now.

  “I said I wanted to get rid of the Drav Cra. Tell me, have you considered what happens when you murder their Arch Warlock in cold blood? When their people go rampaging through the streets out for revenge?”

  “I…”

  “See, Codar? Even the deserter is like any other knight. Short-sighted. Charging ahead like a starved boar.”

  “If you don’t want to help, why did you invite me here?” Rand questioned.

  “I simply want you to understand what you’re asking. Removing the Drav Cra now, while much of their army is off fighting the Crown’s war, is the sensible decision. I can live with the carnage; chaos is profitable. Can you?”

  Rand turned to Sigrid. She bit her lip, deep in thought, her eyes dull with sorrow. Rand knew why. They’d always been able to tell what the other was thinking.

  More death on my hands.

  He took Sigrid’s hand and nodded. Her head sunk.

  “The longer we give them to drive their roots into our streets, the more fighting there will be,” Rand decided. “My Wearer, and the very mouth of Iam asked this of me. If I hide again, what am I?”

  Valin chuckled. “A smart man. But, assuming you’re insane, what is your plan to eliminate the imposter?”

  Rand drew a deep breath. “We free Sir Torsten Unger from the dungeons. I know what cell he’s in. Wren the Holy believes he still has enough support to get the King’s Shield back on his side.”

  “Torsten Unger?” Valin’s brow furrowed.

  “Yes, he is the rightful Wearer of White, Commander of the King’s armies, and one of the greatest warriors alive. I’ve faced Redstar alone and failed. Torsten is strong, experienced in fighting him, and together we can—”

  Valin erupted in laughter until tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Codar let a slight snigger slip through his lips.

  “What’s so funny?” Sigrid questioned.

  “Torsten yigging Unger? That is what you're offering? The location of another disgraced Wearer?” Again, Valin stood and limped right up to Sigrid. “Do you fools think I don’t have people that can tell me where Torsten is?”

  “They don’t know the castle,” Rand said.

  “They sweep up the damn shog!” He slammed his cane on the ground. “All the kingdom knows that Torsten is a traitor who murdered one of their own. Who do you think would help him? Sir Nikserof Pasic was sent off to war. Who else is there from Uriah’s old guard? Wren the Holy just stood beside Redstar and the King and declared Iam and Nesilia kin.”

  “What? No,” Rand said, incredulous. “That’s impossible. Wren came to me. He sent me on this quest.”

  “An imagined visit. Brought about by the drowning of your sorrows, I’d wager.”

  “He was there! And he saved my life from Redstar when he unleashed his dark magic by summoning a shield of light. It was as if Iam worked through him just to keep me alive.”

  Valin scoffed. “Are you so desperate for a purpose to believe that?”

  “Iam chose me!” Rand screamed. He didn’t care who he was talking to, but the harshness in his tone caused Codar to reach for his dirk again.

  “Don’t hurt him!” Sigrid shouted, but Valin slammed his cane again, and she froze.

  “He chose me!” Rand’s knees went wobbly, and he had to crouch to keep from passing out. Shouting made his head hurt so bad, it felt like someone was dragging a knife around the rim of his skull. “I have to fix what I started…” he said weakly. “I executed all those people for her. Drove away anyone who could stand up to Redstar.”

  “Get up, you sniveling fool.” Valin placed his cane under Rand’s jaw and lifted.

  “Rand.” Sigrid wrapped her arms around him and helped him to his feet.

  “It seems power isn’t for everyone,” Valin said to Codar as he clacked back to his desk.

  “Please, Mr. Tehr, you have to listen to me,” Rand said. “I don’t know why, but I know now that only Torsten can kill Redstar. Whatever they started in the Webbed Woods, it has to be him. I tried to do it myself, but Wren the Holy is right.”

  “Codar, come here.” The Breklian lifted his dirk away and moved to Valin’s side where they held a private conversation. The former remained staid as ever while they talked. Valin, however, couldn’t help but glance over and grin.

  “He’s not lying,” Sigrid said to them. “I was there, too. I saw Wren come to my brother after he tried to...” She regarded Rand mournfully. “All that matters is that he was there.”

  Valin seemed to take what she said to heart. Eventually, Codar stepped aside and calmly folded his hands behind his back.

  “Okay, Shieldsman,” Valin said. “We’re going to help you break Torsten out. I miss my feuds with the stubborn, former Wearer. No matter how hard I tried, he remained… incorruptible. You have to respect that sort of blind obedience.”

  “Thank you, sir, I—”

  Valin raised a hand to silence him. “Who am I to strike down a man chosen by Iam Himself? But this isn’t charity anymore. If I do this, you’re going to help me with something. A task worthy of a warrior of the King’s Shield.”

  Rand swallowed. “What do you need?”

  Valin leaned forward, steepled his fingers, and smiled. “Isn’t that always the question?”

  XX

  THE MYSTIC

  It wasn’t exactly that Sora woke up; she hadn’t been sleeping. She’d experienced the whole journey after whatever Aihara Na did to her, eyes wide-open. The problem was that although she saw everything, she couldn’t process anything. It was as if she was under the influence of one of Wetzel’s potions for some life-threatening malady, one that would require the patient to be relieved from the very feeling of existence.

  That was how she felt, like she was relieved from feeling anything at all. She'd felt cobbled roads, and seen water. She remembered climbing stairs and seeing people—but all those things might have been true of any place in the city.

  She was hopelessly confused.

  A finger pressed against her forehead, same as before, and she snapped to. Her fists waved around as if trying to punch out an army by herself.

  Sora’s vision became clear again. She stood alone in a room with Aihara Na. Unlike most of Yaolin City with its wood and sweeping tile roofs, this room was hard, cold, red stone. The ceiling extended high above, braziers of fire hanging at varying intervals.

  “There you are,” Aihara Na said. “Everything is all right.” For the first time, the woman had her hood drawn back, and Sora could see the details of her face. High, proud, cheekbones and a long chin creased with wrinkles at the point. She wasn’t
ancient like Wetzel, despite the title Lord Bokeo gave her, but it was evident she’d seen much of the world. Her expression spoke of decades of disappointment, exhaustion.

  “What are you doing to me?” Sora was instantly reminded of the time, not too long ago in Winde Port, that Kazimir had her chained up in the steeple of a church. But this time, she realized, she wasn’t chained up. Aihara Na wasn’t even looking at her. Sora was completely free and uninhibited, yet still found incapacitated. It was like her mind had to relearn how to operate her body.

  Aihara Na moved toward Sora, and Sora would have shrunk back if she could've. “We’ve already told you what we will do. We are going to train you in the mystic arts.”

  “Train me? I want nothing to do with you or your wicked rituals. You’re no better than the Drav Cra, sacrificing life to get what you want.”

  Aihara merely smirked in response.

  Just then, Aquira crawled out from behind a column.

  “Aquira,” Sora said. Her foot finally budged, and she stomped forward hard without meaning to. Now it was Aquira’s turn to shrink back. Her eyes blinked fast, and Sora recognized a look of sadness when she saw one.

  “How could you lead me to that?” Sora asked. “I… I”

  “Stop,” Aihara Na said. “Do not blame her. She may understand your words, but she is still a beast and knew not what was done. She only followed the command of those she knew cared for her.”

  Sora slowly crept forward and knelt before the wyvern. “You have no love for her if you’d treat her that way.” She stretched out her arm for Aquira to climb up, but Aquira remained skittish.