by J. A. Comley
And I nearly gave him what he wanted.
Before his anger could rise again, he chased the thoughts away and came back to the present.
Clothes shopping didn't interest him, but the stranger certainly did.
More than she should.
The transformation in her appearance had caught him off-guard this morning, the way her hair shone red-gold as if spun from Cosmaltian fireblossoms, the brightness and intelligence of her emerald eyes.
He smothered a smile as Starla tried unsuccessfully to diminish the number of clothes Myrena was insisting she try on. He watched her blush deeply as Savianna showed her their selection of nightdresses, all silk and tiny.
Even as he tried to quell the desire blooming in his blood, his mind took him back to earlier.
He thought again of the way she had been looking at him at breakfast. There were none of the usual emotions he was used to seeing. No fear, no hate. And when her eyes had traced the lines of his scars, no cruel amusement, no pity, not even blatant curiosity. It had been almost as if he had had no scars, no darkness hounding his every action. People had trembled and fled, but she had never faltered, asking questions and laughing with him.
“The fitting room is just through there,” Myrena said, herding a tunic-laden Starla into the mirror-lined cubicle and shutting the door behind them. Larkel moved to make sure he was close enough to respond to any surprises. Part of him, by far larger than the one bound to duty, rolled its eyes, certain that she was not a threat.
As the door shut behind her, he scolded himself again. This was all foolishness. She was human. She just wanted to return home, though how anyone here would manage that was beyond him. Even his powers were not enough to break through the Demilain magic holding everyone trapped.
She has magic too, he reminded himself, remembering his moment of shock as he realised her own powers were subconsciously tearing down the spell blocking her memories.
Although, it was strange that he couldn't sense it. Even a dormant well of power should be easy enough to find, especially with his gifts. There were only two options that he could see. One was that he was horribly wrong, and she was merely a new type of Corruption, somehow cloaked from even his senses. His heart twisted at that thought. His stomach roiled. If she was, he would be the one tasked with ending her life.
Option two should be impossible. There was only one kind of magical creature native to this system that explained how she could have magic but not a store of it. Soreiaphin. It imbued their very being. It wasn't a store of power like his. It was part of their very cells, waiting to be awakened and completely undetectable until then.
But there is no evidence that any surviving Soreiaphin exist. Kyron made a point of killing any born since the Breaking, and they were extremely rare before then, anyway.
He shook his head. He needed to discover her secret and help his people. He didn't have time for legends, whatever Astria thought.
Perhaps there was some new magic awakening on Earth. It was not unheard of for species to evolve magical capacities over time.
Yet none of that quelled the desire to get to know her, to hold her. None of it stopped the smile that curled his lips as he imagined what that might be like.
Just before Myrena closed the door, Starla caught a glimpse of the High Lord watching her, a thoughtful smile on his full lips, the ice in his eyes barely visible. The look set her heart racing, and she shook her head in despair.
Carefully unclasping her starla pin, she began to try on the tunics. The new fashions had a higher neckline with only a thin slash of skin visible from her collar bone, widening slightly to the twin swells of Starla's breasts.
This should hide the Star's chain, she mused, turning this way and that, even bending forwards while Myrena extolled the virtues of Starla's glowing skin and hair and which colours suited them better. The backs of the tunics were more open than the current style, in a wide diamond shape, but the fabric at the nape of the neck seemed enough to hide the chain.
“Are you Cosmaltian?” Starla blurted out as Myrena tucked a strand of her black hair behind a slightly pointed ear.
The woman raised an eyebrow at Starla's intensity, but her friendly smile stayed in place.
“I am, but I have lived here all my life, closeted in the Order's housing until I came of age. Our mother and my father were with the Makhi Order. Our younger brother still is. The way Mother told it, Savianna's father was an Aurelian warrior just passing through. Mother was very young, then, and hadn't met my father yet. It is such a lovely story. Full of passion.”
Starla fought her blush, barely seeing the next tunic Myrena insisted she try. Pushing aside stories that would cause everlasting scandal back home, Starla swallowed her disappointment. It would be unlikely that Myrena would know of her family if she had only mingled with Makhi.
“You look amazing,” Myrena said after fastening another tunic into place.
This one was strapless, in deep purple, with black lace emphasising her bust and trailing down her sides. It had only one thin strap across her back, leaving the rest bare to the waist.
“May I have a minute?” Starla said, looking at Myrena's reflection. “Perhaps you can add to the nightdresses the undergarments I chose?”
Starla felt her blush rising again and pushed it down. The undergarments had been even more ridiculous than the night dresses.
Myrena bowed and left the room, allowing a brief glimpse of the High Lord as she opened the door. His eyes began to widen before the door shut again, blocking him from view once more.
Cheeks heating, Starla turned back to the mirror. Looking at her scandalously-dressed reflection, she was reminded of Father Joe once telling her, as they looked at some paintings of the scantily-clad tribesmen that Pierre had brought back, that a person's sense of propriety and decency came from their peers, their culture. What was perfectly normal in one place could cause scandal elsewhere, but that didn't necessarily make it wrong.
“Then how do we know what is wrong?” a ten-year-old Starla had asked the wise priest, wide-eyed.
“We trust our hearts. They'll always let us know.”
Starla smiled as the memory faded.
Staring at herself in the mirror, Starla felt something change. Her heart didn't tell her that this was wrong. Different, but not wrong, not indecent. In fact, she liked the fit of it, liked the feel of the soft fabric against her skin, liked the way the colours added to her appearance, setting off her hair, eyes, or skin. She felt better without the weight of petticoats and the constricting presence of a corset.
“That would change if I stepped outside like this,” she said to herself, imagining the stares.
Starla shook her head. When would she ever have occasion for such an opulent dress anyway?
Practical, that's what I need.
Pushing aside the feeling of guilt that had surfaced with the memory of Father Joe, Starla got back into her borrowed red tunic and meticulously replaced her shawl. She turned to the other tunics. The least opulent had cotton embroidery along the top of the tops of her shoulders and the high collar. Matching embroidery ran along the hem, too, a silk ribbon threaded through it. The colours were more muted, and best of all, they had a small side pocket that closed with something Myrena had called a zip. Those would do.
The High Lord was watching her as she emerged from the dressing room. His eyebrows curved down at the look on her face. She tried to dispel the memory of those she had left behind, rearranging her features into a smile.
“Is—”
“Good, you're done. Which ones will you take, then?” interrupted Savianna, only her shaking fingers betraying her fear as she spoke over him.
“These five, thank you. The others can go back,” Starla said, handing over the ones she didn't want to Myrena. The diminutive woman disappeared instantly into the array of rainbow gowns.
“That is not too expensive, is it?” she asked the High Lord, who looked amused by the question.
> “Not at all, Starla. Just pick whatever you’d like.”
“Oh! Not that one.” Starla turned back to the Savianna.
“You are sure you don't want it?” Savianna said, holding up the deep purple tunic, disappointment in her tone. “Myrena thought you liked it. And it must look utterly stunning with your colouring.”
“I do like it. It is beautiful. I just don't need anything so lavish,” Starla said, moving away to place the five simpler tunics on the counter beside two nightdresses and some ridiculously small undergarments, all waiting to be paid for.
She turned back to find Savianna looking tense, seeming to be whispering furiously to the High Lord.
After a moment, the High Lord turned from her and joined Starla, his face cold, followed swiftly by a trembling Savianna. He handed over three silver, rose-shaped coins, five copper, oblong coins and one fat, gold coin shaped like a star. The tension in the air was palpable as Savianna accepted the money, and Myrena made quick work of packaging the goods.
Starla stifled a groan as they re-entered the street and several citizens froze in fright and then scampered off, casting terrified looks over their shoulders. Savianna shut the door on them the moment their feet had crossed the threshold.
“Is everything all right, Starla?” Larkel asked, shifting the packages he had insisted on carrying. “You seemed troubled in the store, and now … you look a little sick.”
Struck again by the genuine tone of his voice, Starla smiled up at him. “In the store, I was thinking of the people back home,” Starla began. “Now, I wish there were a way to show everyone here that they don't need to be afraid of me.” Her voice dropped to a murmur as a man entered the street and bit her tongue to stop from asking Larkel why everyone was afraid of the High Lord, too. It seemed to be more than just fear of his magic. The Baron’s claims rang in her ears but she shoved them away.
Larkel turned from the man to face her, his keen eyes sweeping her face as if they could read the question she hadn't asked. The eyes of the man who had entered the street swept up and locked on to Larkel's back. He stretched out a hand. The skin seemed to be melting off it, revealing a writhing blackness beneath.
Larkel opened his mouth then paused as a slight tremor rocked through his body, and he cursed. Behind Starla, a muffled scream came from the store, and she heard the door's bolt slide home. The High Lord spun around, his staff appearing in his waiting left hand, Starla's packages thudding to the cobbles. He cursed himself out loud for being distracted as he levelled his staff at the approaching monster.
The creature's skin was now entirely melted off and, though still humanoid, it now had black tentacles where its arms used to be and its mouth was filled with row upon row of razor-sharp teeth.
“Stay back,” the High Lord commanded, as his magic kicked up his hair and robes.
Starla wanted badly to obey, although she wasn't entirely sure if she could move at all, horror freezing her limbs. Fear for him seemed to swell in her heart as he stepped forwards, staff levelled at the approaching danger.
The High Lord's first spell halted the creature in its tracks. It snarled and snapped, but appeared unable to gain another step.
Spells kept arcing from his staff, but none seemed able to affect the creature.
Larkel swore as it suddenly burst from the constraints, launching itself towards him. He moved with sure steps and caught the creature in a new spell, shoving it back again. The High Lord cursed again as a young girl hurtled around the corner, laughing hysterically and looking behind her. The slightly older boy who had been playfully chasing her stopped in horror and yelled a warning. But it was too late. The girl had got too close to the writhing monster. It reached out its tentacled arms to grab her. Starla wanted to shut her eyes, to turn away from the horror, but neither her eyes nor her body would obey the command.
The High Lord slashed his staff through the air, his magic rolling off him, setting the cobbles hissing and leaving them warped in his wake. Black blood began to fountain from the monster's neck, spattering the boy and drenching the girl, the barriers the High Lord has set to shield them shattering. The horror crumpled to the ground, its head now barely attached to its body.
The High Lord's face was grim as the boy ran to his sister. She was weeping.
Larkel strode towards them, staff still held ready.
A man puffed around the corner, his face red from exertion. He froze for a moment, taking in the macabre scene in front of him. Then he was running toward the children, crying out for them to run.
His cry cut through Starla's shock, and she took a few hesitant steps forwards. Couldn't he see the monster was already dead?
The High Lord stopped walking as the man tried to thrust himself between him and the children.
It took Starla a moment to realise that the man was being held at bay by a spell, his legs still pumping with futile effort, tears now streaking down his cheeks.
“Don't. Please don't kill them, too. They're only children!” he cried, still desperately fighting against the magic.
Starla's eyes flashed up in horror to the High Lord. His face was cold. His eyes held no pity. He looked exactly as the Guardian's had described, as the Baron had warned. A merciless creature, wreathed in magic.
He wouldn't.
He levelled his staff at the two children, and Starla raced forwards but encountered a barrier barring her way. She watched their eyes widen, but neither moved. Whether they were frozen by fear or magic, Starla couldn't guess. Slowly, the blood drained off them, and she stopped fighting the barrier. Three Makhi dashed down the road, staves at the ready.
Barely a minute had passed since they had left the store. Starla pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to still and her mind to function normally again.
He didn't kill them. See?
“Dispose of the Corruption carefully,” the High Lord ordered, his voice hard. “Take the children.”
“No! No!” the man screamed, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Leave them be!”
The High Lord turned to him, his voice as cold as his eyes. “Your children will be taken to the Makhi Keep. They must be cleaned, healed, and observed.”
To Starla, that all sounded fairly reasonable, but the man broke down, sobbing, all the fight leaving him as the three Makhi set to work. The monster was encased in a red orb of magic, its form concealed. The children were herded forward, both crying, their young faces terrified, a barrier of magic keeping them from running, from getting near anyone.
“You may call at the Keep for news as often as you wish,” Larkel added to the man, releasing him.
The man rose and spat at Larkel's feet. “I won't see them again. You are a monster. You'll murder them just like you did their mother. Do you remember my Aleitta?” his face filled with deep hatred. Just as suddenly, it was gone. Nothing but a crippling sadness remained. Turning away, he hurried after his children.
Larkel turned to face Starla, his eyes grim, lips twisted in a humourless smile. “See, they're not afraid of you,” he said, too low for Starla to be sure she had heard right. Raising his voice, he continued, “Please stand back.” There was an undercurrent of regret to his voice that Starla wasn't sure she would have noticed before sharing his mind.
“Did you kill that man's wife?” she whispered, stepping back again as ordered.
The High Lord's eyes filled with anguish for a moment before the ice reclaimed them.
“Yes,” he said, casting a spell and gouging out all the chunks of road and walls tainted by the blood.
“Why?” Her voice was soft, but she was sure he had heard her, his muscles tensing as if he had been struck.
“She was tainted. She was a Corruption.” He gestured to the ground where the monster had lain. “They spread like a plague. It can be through touch, a bite, or blood. Once they have turned, they can infect others. I haven't found any magic powerful enough to reverse Kyron's spell.”
Starla finally understood the man's f
ear. “So, if the blood … if the children … they'll be killed too?”
The High Lord shut his eyes. Steeling himself.
“Yes,” he said, obliterating the tainted rocks until there was nothing left.
4
A Day of Peace
“We have all completed our tasks as Baron Braxton ordered?” Captain Trent asked, his tone precise and clipped as he emerged from the glittering trees and left the heat of the magmus behind him. The Hatrion reptiles seemed to be taking a liking to Galatia. They must have at least doubled in size since the Captain's first encounter. An encounter that should have left him dead, but for the Baron's intervention.
He shook his head. It was already heading towards the afternoon. They needed to hurry back before anyone noticed their absence.
“Everything, Captain, except finding the grobblers. None of us has come across any,” replied Master Frockle.
“Find us for what purpose?” came a sly, guttural voice from the shadows of the bushes.
All the men jumped a step back, their eyes raking the bushes in vain. Clearing his throat, the Captain took a hesitant step towards the darkest shadows.
“The esteemed Lord of Galatia, Baron Braxton Malion, requests that you keep an eye out for any Sacrileons and also for this woman,” he said, tossing a picture of Starla he had stolen from the hearing's documents to the floor.
A scaly, long-clawed hand snatched it up.
“And the payment?” the voice in the shadows asked.
“A double payment,” Trent paused as the creature gargled in delight, “one offered by the Baron if you agree to bring him the girl first. He offers the sacking of a Galatian noble's home, servants included, the other offered by the Master, once you have handed her over to the magmus.”
