The Redstar Rising Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set 1: Books 1-3)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Oleander looked aghast, leaving Torsten unsure at how much headway she’d actually made in earning back the boy's trust.

  “And Redstar,” Pi continued, “if I am not mistaken it was you who advised I restore Yuri Darkings' position upon the council.”

  Redstar didn’t miss a beat. “Alas, I am ashamed to admit that I overheard Torsten and Lord Darkings discussing that very arrangement while I was in the dungeon. I hoped to win your favor in improving your Royal Council.”

  “Is this true, Sir Unger?”

  “I will not lie to you, Your Grace,” Torsten said. “It was my intent. But nobody could've predicted Yuri’s motives, even Redstar’s Goddess. It was all our failures in allowing him back into power. So, use me. Send me to hunt down the Caleef and fix this.”

  “As you hunted Muskigo?” Redstar said.

  Torsten sunk away from the dais.

  “Your Grace,” Redstar said, taking a few steps closer. “I believe we have wasted enough time pretending that our situation has not changed. The rebel army remains at large, and soon Muskigo will inspire more afhems to his cause whether we find the Caleef or not. The bulk of our armies remain in Winde Port preparing to march on the Shesaitju lands, but they are leaderless now. I sent a report of what the Wearer has done, and I believe it is time he is stripped of his command. Would you trust a man capable of coming so unhinged to bring justice to Muskigo, and restore order to your great kingdom?”

  “Your Grace, I will make no excuses for what I have done, but this man is attempting to deceive you,” Torsten said. “Do not forget that it was he who poisoned your mind and led you to leap from that window! It is only by the grace of Iam that you returned to us when Redstar would have seen the Nothhelm line ended.”

  “You speak of magic as if you understand it,” Redstar said. “I did not curse the boy; I merely allowed him to see what the rest refuse to. The true power which watches over us. You claim I destroyed our king’s mind, yet there he sits, alive and well. Stronger than ever. All thanks to me. For it was not Iam who brought him back, but the hand of my Lady.”

  “That is blasphemy!” Wren shouted. “Your Highness, I agree with the Wearer of White. Redstar may be your uncle, but from the moment he arrived in the capital a year ago, we have seen naught but suffering.”

  “Queen Mother,” Torsten addressed Oleander. “Do you not remember what he reduced your son to? How he had him rambling on about nonsense in the darkness?”

  “Of course, I remember,” Oleander replied, still diffident after her son’s verbal attack.

  “Then how could you, how could any of us listen to a word he says?”

  “My uncle explained his intentions to me before I released him, Wearer,” Pi said. “He helped me see in the only way he knew how and has already been pardoned. We are not here to discuss his place in my kingdom; we are here to discuss yours.”

  “Your Gra—”

  “If I must ask one more time not to be interrupted, you will hang.”

  Silence filled the hall, thicker than any sound could.

  “The truth, Sir Unger, is that you allowed Winde Port to be taken in the first place by ignoring Redstar’s warning,” Pi said. “You invited Yuri Darkings to Winde Port of your own accord. And you failed to eliminate Muskigo while Redstar was forced to take action and reclaim the city. And perhaps worst of all, you killed one of your own Shieldsmen in a blind rage directed at my uncle despite his heroics leading an army that was meant to be under your command. These are the reports I have received. Do you deny any of it?”

  Torsten swallowed hard. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw his Shieldsmen. Not one of them spoke up in his defense, and only Nikserof’s expression revealed the slightest grief. Sir Mulliner didn’t smile, but his satisfaction at Torsten’s facing of justice was evident.

  “I do not,” Torsten said, “but—”

  “Stop.” King Pi held up his hand. “You were sent to subdue Muskigo while he was removed from his people. Now he is back among them to stir the hornet’s nest, and our coffers lack the gold to both go after him and repair Winde Port. You speak against my uncle, yet without him, we would be in a far worse situation. Winde Port would remain occupied, and Yuri Darkings likely still in his post ready to bury us.”

  “As I said, it is clear Sir Unger was unfit to inherit the helm from his predecessor,” Redstar said. “We are lucky I was there to pick up the pieces.”

  Torsten lost what little restraint he possessed. He swung the white helm of his post into the side of Redstar’s face. His birthmark split open at the cheek as he hit the ground. Torsten pounced onto him, punching him again and again. This time Redstar didn’t use magic to fend him off. He merely cackled as Torsten struck him.

  Sir Mulliner and other members of the King's Shield arrived to pull him off. It was the battlefield of Winde Port all over again, only now he was in front of the King, Queen Mother, and High Priest of Iam. All those important to him, present to see him acting like a wild beast.

  Redstar crawled backward against the throne’s dais. “Behold,” he rasped, still cackling. He spat blood onto the marble. "Your Wearer, my King.”

  “He’s using you!” Torsten shouted as he tried to break free. Sir Mulliner shoved him hard onto his chest and held him there. “He’s using all of you, can’t you see!”

  Nobody could bear to watch. Wren prayed under his breath. The other worthless members of the Royal Council cowered. Even Oleander turned to the side and closed her eyes.

  All but Pi. His unwavering stare remained on Torsten, the small boy who looked a giant upon his throne. “I see a man broken by his failings,” he said. “In the name of Iam and the Glass Throne, I strip you of your position as both Wearer and Shieldsman. Your vows are nullified. And for the murder of Sir Havel Tralen, you will be imprisoned until I can think of what to do with you.”

  Sir Havel… Now he knew the name of the Shieldsman he’d murdered. He stopped fighting Sir Mulliner and stared toward the throne, eyes wet with tears. He didn’t look to Pi or Wren, but to Oleander. The Queen Mother who’d hurt so many in the name of her son; the only person who might understand him.

  “Please, Oleander,” he said, imploring her by her own name. “You know me. I would never purposely bring harm to this kingdom. I am, as always, your loyal servant. But him?” He hadn’t even the energy to point to Redstar. “He’ll destroy us all.”

  Finally, Oleander half turned. He noticed the glint of a tear on her cheek, but she never moved enough to look Torsten in the eye.

  She drew a deep breath. “The demands of my son, your King, are final,” she said weakly. “You served this kingdom well during my husband’s illness, and for that, you have my gratitude. I can offer no more.”

  Torsten felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “And what esteemed Shieldsman is to replace me?” he asked. He could hardly move, but he angled his restrained arm to point at Sir Nikserof who stood near the entry. “It may mean nothing, but Sir Nikserof’s bravery in Winde Port was commendable.”

  Pi hopped down from the throne and began to pace. Now on the floor, it was clear how small and fragile he was, but he didn’t walk like it. He moved with the swagger of a conqueror, shoulders high and proud like his father’s always were.

  “It is clear to me that the old ways are no longer working,” Pi said. “I have been left with an unfit council, unable to complete a task as simple as having a crypt repaired on time. My father had no family to trust and had to see the worth in others, but I do. As of this moment, my uncle will be named my prime minister, closely overseeing the roles of all the Royal Council.”

  Murmurs broke out amongst the members behind the throne.

  “And,” Pi continued, louder as to quell the din, “he will assume the role of royal commander of my armies for the time being. We will install a new Wearer and generals who will honor and respect our alliance with the Drav Cra, and together, we will end all talk of rebellions.”

  The murmuring grew loude
r. Even Sir Mulliner and the other Shieldsman holding Torsten seemed confused. But Redstar remained lying on the marble wearing a bloody grin.

  “Your Grace, the position of High Priest responds only to the will of Iam,” Wren said. “I am his mouth and hand in Pantego. Your uncle is a servant to Nesilia, the Buried Goddess. I will not allow him to oversee our holy church.”

  “You will do as instructed!” Pi snapped. “It was my father’s willingness to force our faith on others which leads now to an uprising. Redstar will have no control over the Church of Iam, worry not, but so long as he and his people are here, they are members of the Glass Kingdom. They will not be persecuted for speaking the name of a goddess whose magic helped save so many in Winde Port.”

  “You would allow these warlocks and blood mages to poison the ears of our people?”

  "If Iam is the one true God," Pi answered, "then our people will not be shaken."

  “This is an outrage.” Wren stormed down from behind the throne and out of the room. Torsten had never seen the blind priest move so fast; he barely used his cane.

  “Too long have we relied on old customs,” Pi announced. “Under my father, the Glass Kingdom was a shining beacon in a dark world. Together, we can make it that again.”

  “Please, Your Grace!” Torsten shouted. “Think about what you’re doing. He is her servant, not yours. He belongs to Nesilia, and she will bring ruin to us all.”

  “Yet Redstar tells me that Nesilia and Iam were of one flesh. That it was together, the God Feud was ended, not apart.”

  “He would say anything to gain more power. Don’t do this.”

  “Ask yourself this, what if he’s right? What if together, we can bring Pantego to greater heights than ever?”

  “And we shall, Your Grace.” Redstar stood, slowly climbed the glass stairs, and lay his hands upon the King’s shoulders. “There is so much work to be done. Now, why don’t you meet me in the Shield Hall and we can discuss our options.”

  “Yes, come Pi,” Oleander said. “I can’t bear to watch this any longer.” She guided her son off the dais and toward the tower up to the private wing. She didn’t even look back. Torsten had failed her, more than anyone else. He’d promised to bring Redstar down and instead allowed him to ascend to the side of the King.

  Redstar stayed behind. He bent to pick up the bloodied helm of the Wearer of White. Then he raised it over his head and lowered it. It looked ridiculous without the rest of the armor, but he didn’t seem to care. It was just a game to him, like everything else.

  He regarded Torsten, still grinning. “You don’t approve?” he asked. “Did it look better on Uriah?” He swiped his hand in front of his face, and for a moment his appearance changed to that of Torsten’s mentor. The same face Redstar wore to trick him into helping him in the Webbed Woods. In a moment, his ugly, blemished façade returned but just seeing him mar the memory of Uriah again fueled Torsten.

  “You won’t get away with this!” He roared and thrashed, but Austun pushed down again.

  “All right. Lock him up, Sir Mulliner.” Redstar tapped on the helm. “That’s an order.”

  Austun tried to get Torsten under control, but his massive body was too strong. A few more Shieldsmen jumped in to help.

  “I have to handle everything,” Redstar groaned. He brushed some blood off his face, then raised his palm. The Shieldsmen were yanked off Torsten by unseen magic; then the warlock flicked his wrist and Torsten slid all the way across the hall, striking the wall just beside Nikserof. Freydis stood beside him, a wicked grin smeared across her white-painted lips.

  The Royal Council members, guards, and Shieldsmen remaining watched, utterly flabbergasted by the open use of blood magic in the Throne Room of the Glass Castle, a place blessed and occupied by the faithful to Iam for centuries. But Redstar didn’t have to hide what he was anymore, and it was all thanks to Torsten.

  II

  THE MYSTIC

  Sora hadn’t left the captain’s quarters of the Breklian corsair she and Whitney had stolen from Winde Port for a fortnight. She laid in a bed made of the softest material she’d ever felt, but she still couldn’t sleep. Every time her eyes closed, visions of Whitney and that monster, Kazimir, danced through her mind. It was mental torture worse than any physical pain she could imagine enduring.

  Her dwarven companion, Tum Tum, had long since given up on trying to stir her. The fact they hadn’t sunk yet told her the dwarf knew the intricacies of sailing. It’s not like she knew how, anyway.

  As the ship rocked then dipped, her stomach rose into her throat, and she wondered if they'd already reached the Boiling Waters south of the Black Sands. The thought of stepping out into sunlight brought an overwhelming sense of panic. For a reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she felt like anything more than darkness would be like screaming to the gods that she’d forgotten about Whitney.

  She hadn’t. She never would. And she couldn’t forget how she’d…

  What had she done? Was he dead, banished, evaporated like water on a hot day? All she knew was that one moment he and Kazimir were there, the next they’d vanished. She’d felt the energy of Elsewhere crackling in the area where they'd been. It made the blood coursing through her body tingle. Eventually, it dissipated, but not on Whitney’s stolen half of the Glass Crown. She’d had to cover it with a blanket because every time she looked at it, she felt that same overwhelming sensation of Elsewhere seeking to work through her. If she touched it, her entire body, from her fingers to her neck, tensed.

  Not for the first time, she rolled over and screamed into a pillow, beating it unmercifully with her fists. It always managed to make her feel a little bit better. But she knew what came next. Tears. Exhaustion. And finally, after her eyes were spent of the stuff, she’d drift off into nightmares.

  Aquira heard her and squirmed up right beside her. The wyvern’s body was like a furnace, and even though her scales were dry and coarse, Sora appreciated the company.

  She couldn’t say how long it’d been before the cabin door swung open and sunlight poured in. Aquira bolted upright, growling until she realized who it was. A stout dwarf appeared in the entry, with a nose like a pear and a beard that seemed not to have seen a blade in years.

  “All right, lass,” Tum Tum’s gruff voice said. “The time for sleepin and depressin be over.”

  “Please, leave me alone,” Sora said, and rolled over.

  “Not happenin. I know ye ain’t a bit happy bout our situation and neither be I, but we be lost and nearly out of food.”

  Sora sat up. “We’re lost?”

  “As a giant in Hornsheim,” he said with a chuckle. “What did ye expect? All I know about sailin I learned watchin the wharf from me bar and ye’ve been pissin the days away in here. Not that I be complainin, if ye’d been of the right mind we’d be out of food long ago.”

  Sora swore.

  “Just give me a few minutes to get properly dressed,” she said.

  “As I said, not happenin. I know if I leave here, yer just gonna flop back down on that soft, comfy bed and drift off again.”

  She knew he was probably right. She grunted and got out of bed. She wasn’t naked, but she wasn’t dressed either. It was dark, and the dwarf turned around to give her privacy, especially after Aquira screeched at him.

  After wiggling into a pair of pants and pulling on a sack-like tunic—both she’d found in the quarters—she said, “Okay,” and they went out onto the deck. Aquira flapped up and landed on her shoulder.

  The sunlight hit her full in the face, causing her to squint. Water sprayed her cheeks, reminding her she was still alive. Climbing the five stairs from the cabin doorway, she breathed in the salty air. She had to admit; it felt good to get out of that room.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “In the middle of the ocean,” Tum Tum said.

  He wasn’t lying. There was blue everywhere—blue ocean, blue sky—except to what she thought was east where the skies were begin
ning to darken. Sora had to grab a railing to keep grounded and avoid feeling dizzy. All around them, there was no land or steady horizon. It vacillated with the crests of waves, up and down, side to side, an interminable wall of water.

  She swallowed hard. “That doesn’t look good,” she said.

  “That’s why I be waking ye,” Tum Tum said, “Easy to sail alone when ye let the boat do the drivin, but now there be a storm comin and I ain’t barely good on a bright day.”

  Sora’s head hung a little, and her shoulders followed.

  “What’s left for food?” she asked.

  “Still got some fish I caught, but since the previous owner didn’t eat nothin dead, there wasn’t much in the way of stores.”

  “Please don’t remind me about him.” Any thought of Kazimir, the upyr who’d hunted her and Whitney through Winde Port, would make her remember how he’d wanted to feed on her blood until she was dried out. Which would remind her of her unbridled rage as he threatened Whitney’s life, and then what had happened to both of them.

  “Apparently, he had a love of apples cus there was a bunch of em,” Tum Tum said. “Most be dried up and rotten by now though. If ye be wantin some sweet fish stew of me own invention, there’s some on that pot over there.”

  He pointed toward the galley, which was really just a covered, flattened portion of the ship with three walls and a cauldron.

  The thought of food had her stomach rumbling. She’d only eaten every few days and only when she couldn’t manage any longer. She imagined if she had a looking glass, she’d barely recognize the woman in the reflection.

  “I must be gaunt,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Fair as the day I met ye,” Tum Tum responded.

  What he hadn’t said was that they’d only met about two weeks ago, and even then, just a day or so before they’d ended up on this ship together.