Above the Star

by Alexis Marie Chute

  Chapter 47

  The Maiden pulls Lady Sophia against her chest and the brothers form a triad around them. They emit a powerful dome of orange light, a shield that crumbles and deflects the stones dropping from the sky to pummel them.

  “We wish to speak!” the Maiden calls through the quivering barricade of flame.

  “Look out!” Lady Sophia shrieks, and yanks Nameris back as a boulder effortlessly slices through the shield and compacts the ground where he had stood.

  “Thank you,” he breathes without his usual cantankerous edge. Nameris returns to discharging his flame above and in front.

  “We mean you no harm. We have come to join forces!” the Maiden continues.

  The five shuffle across the rocky beach beneath their shield to the foot of the southernmost bridge. Only seven stone arches remain of the thirty that once stood. At one time, they extended far out over the sea and connected to each other in erratically placed arcs. Age and war had crumbled the bridges and pathways, and they had collapsed into the hungry sea to form breakwaters visible above the ocean surface.

  The easing night still clings to darkness, though Bangol torches illuminate cells and their bridges, and the water below them that batters against the piers with angry sprays of foam.

  Zeno whispers to the small company tucked into the darkness of the forest, “This place was once busy and happy, when the Bangols and the Olearons worked together to defend Jarr-Wya against the Steffanus. Together we held every shore and hunted those wicked women up Baluurwa. Once the Steffanus were wiped out, or so we thought, the Bangols broke the alliance and invaded Olearon territory, desiring their fertile pasture-lands. The red bodies were waiting, however, and drove us clear across the island. To this fortress, which was lost. It is a mystery to this day how the Olearons knew we were coming. The bloodshed was excessive. After the battle, this place was abandoned, with the focus on preserving our hold on the northern shore. Many evils entered the east by way of this deserted fortress.”

  When Zeno begins a rant about his banishment, Ardenal leans to Tessa and whispers, “Has Ella spoken?”

  “No.”

  “Try again.”

  Ella? Ella, can you hear me?

  I can’t talk now, Mom. Something is happening on the bridges. Oh no, the Bangol at my door . . . he’s got the rope and the stones . . .

  “She spoke!” Tessa nearly sings. “Ella knows something is going on—she’s in danger!”

  “Look,” interrupts Archie. “The Olearons and Lady Sophia are being allowed onto the southern arch!”

  The Maiden, swiftly followed by Lady Sophia, is first to scale the stone walkway, which has no rails and is no more than six feet wide. They are followed by Azkar and Nameris, and finally Kameelo. Their flames are intentionally modest.

  The Maiden announces loudly, her voice carrying, “I am the Maiden of Olearon. I have come, with these, to make an alliance with the Bangols.”

  A single stone soars through the air and nearly bashes the Maiden’s head, but she gracefully ducks to the side. The stone whooshes by and splashes loudly into the water. “Is that any way to greet one who offers you what you desire?” she asks calmly.

  “How can you possibly know what we desire?” sneers a little creature halfway across the bridge.

  “You want an end to the reign of the Lord of Olearon—and to inhabit his lands—do you not? And, possibly greater still, you crave the Star.”

  The Bangol guard blinks with surprise, his yellow eyes flashing like the warning beacon on a lighthouse. “Well, yes, that’s right—but all know of our intentions; we are not subtle in their execution,” he says gruffly.

  “We are renegades, breaking pact with our birthright. We wish for an audience with your king.”

  “It makes no sense. What kind of a trap is this?” demands the guard, lifting a stone mallet.

  “What is your name?”

  “I am Chergrin, lead guard.”

  “Let me speak with Tuggeron. I waste no further breath on you,” the Maiden answers.

  Chergrin scowls, then turns on his heel to scurry into one of the cells at the end of his bridge. “Wait there!” he orders over his shoulder before disappearing through a heavy door of weathered wood. There is silence for a time. The Olearons are still, but Lady Sophia shuffles back and forth on her stout legs and nervously fusses with her clothing.

  Finally, the wooden door creaks open and the guard exits, followed by a much taller, fatter Bangol. “Who addresses me?” he asks.

  “The Maiden of Olearon.”

  “Have you not known enough bloodshed from our swift stones in the blue forest, or the decimation on the Millia’s shore five sunsets past?” he asks proudly. “Have you come here to die?”

  “We have come to join you,” answers the Maiden. “Are you the king?”

  “I am Tuggeron, yes—and I don’t trust a word from your red lips.”

  “If you know who I am, which I believe you do,” the Maiden responds calmly, “you know that I do not lie. I have done that which no other Maiden has before: severed souls with her Lord. The Lord of Olearon is cowardly and bends to the will of the Millia—while I yearn for conquest. In that, I believe our interests are aligned.”

  “Your race is pathetic, of that we agree,” sneers Tuggeron. “We Bangols have known as much for many generations. Thank you for this information. You may go now.” Tuggeron begins tromping back to the cells.

  “Wait—” calls the Maiden. Tuggeron moves no farther. “—let our races unify once more in shared control of Jarr-Wya. Many Olearons feel as I do, some of whom stand behind me. We know many valuable secrets. Together we will overthrow the Lord, drive the Millia back into the sea from where they came, and harness the power of the Star.”

  “Your offer is enticing,” Tuggeron says as he swivels to again face the Maiden. “Our two races would own all shores of Jarr-Wya. You could remain in the fields at the glass city, since you are the better farmers, while giving us three-quarters of the harvest. There are many more of us to feed.” Tuggeron laughs and grabs his paunch.

  “We are agreeable to that condition,” the Maiden replies. “With the Millia gone from the south, we might also cultivate that region—its pastures and blue forest. There will be more than enough to eat for both Bangol and Olearon.”

  “You are forgetting one thing.” Tuggeron exhales deeply. “What good are all the lands on Jarr-Wya if they rot the crops before ripening? If they are laced with sickness that wipes us out? It is the Star that I desire most. And for that, I have no need of the Olearons. I will harness its power alone and then all of the island will be mine.”

  “Impossible,” the Maiden retorts.

  “Impossible?”

  “Yes. Do you remember I mentioned secrets? Over the last three-hundred sunsets, one of our own, Ardenal, has trained me in how I might break the wildness of the Star to my will. It was birthed in his world. Ardenal came to Jarr-Wya with the ruse of saving his child, but truly, he sought the Star for himself.”

  “So why teach you how to lord over it?”

  “Ardenal had not foreseen how many fathoms beneath the sea the Star would come to rest. He needed me, and the Olearons, to retrieve it from the depths. We have, in fact, discovered a way.”

  “But surely Ardenal desires the Star only for himself.”

  “He was greedy. I am not.” The Maiden pulls out the folded leaf and throws it to Tuggeron.

  “What is this?” Tuggeron unfolds the foliage. He smiles at the bloodied fabric. He buries his nose in its wetness and inhales. “I know this blood. Ardenal came looking for knowledge. We battled. He was an untrained but unrelenting adversary. And you have killed him?”

  “With my own hands.”

  “Inspiring.”

  “Thank you. And I have even more proof of my trustworthiness—for you, Tuggeron.”

  His eyes brighten. “Oh please, let’s see! I am beginning to enjoy this quite unexpected meeting!”

  “Azkar
. Nameris.” The Maiden orders them forward and they grab Lady Sophia by her arms.

  “Hey! Ouch! What’s the meaning of this? The Maiden told me I would not be hurt. Get your hands off me!” the singer screeches.

  “This human,” the Maiden says, “is their leader. She directed the vessel to Jarr-Wya, hunting the Star. My companions and I here, we have roasted the others that came with her, the ones that outlived the Millia and your attack from above.”

  “And why keep this one alive? She doesn’t look powerful,” Tuggeron growls, studying Lady Sophia.

  “Appearances can be deceiving. The best of a race are most always the fattest, wouldn’t you agree, Tuggeron? She possessed many powers, one of which could gut us all where we stand.”

  Tuggeron shifts uncomfortably. He exchanges a glance with Chergrin. “Well then, why have you not destroyed her? Do you bring her here to undermine me?”

  “I have brought her here so that you may watch.”

  Azkar recovers a belt from his sack. He and Nameris wrap it around Lady Sophia, who struggles against them, objecting loudly. She begins to weep.

  The Maiden continues her story as they work. “I stole her powers by way of Rolace, from whom we have just now come. Together, Tuggeron, we shall use them to our mutual benefit.” The Maiden smiles wickedly. She steps aside so Tuggeron can appreciate the work of Azkar and Nameris. The belt, which Lady Sophia tears at hysterically, is decorated with heavy stones.

  The Maiden grabs Lady Sophia by the neck and thrusts her off the bridge. The woman descends quickly and crashes into the water. She does not reemerge.

  Chapter 48

  “Did you know about this?” Tessa demands, her face close to Ardenal’s. She whirls. “Did you know, Archie?” Fat tears drop from her eyes.

  Zeno interrupts. “The Maiden alluded to me that Lady Sophia may play such a role. It’s quite delicious!” He shows his sharp teeth in a wide grin.

  The voices on the bridge begin again and the company in the woods fall quiet to listen.

  Chergrin waves forward the Olearons. “Come,” Tuggeron says. “Let us share our secrets, away from the ears of the wind—the breeze has been different, have you noticed? Since the Star arrived? It speaks no tongue of this island, at least none I know.” Chergrin follows close behind them. They disappear into a cell.

  “What now?” Tessa asks anxiously.

  Archie replies, “We wait.”

  All of a sudden, a child begins to cry high up in the branches of the white trees.

  “Duggie-Sky!” Archie frets, straining his vision upward.

  “I’ll find him,” Nate says, and runs off into the darkness.

  Suddenly—there is a click. Only one. It interrupts all conversation. It dissects normal sound and arrests the small segment of the company, as if they are frozen in word and gesture. Silence, pause—just long enough for the heart to cling to the hope that the noise was a reflux of memory—then another click startles them. And another. The sounds begin at first faint—disparate and distant—then grow, like an approaching thunder storm.

  “Arden, I know that clicking . . .” Archie whispers.

  Tessa huddles close. “What is it?” she asks.

  Ardenal clenches his jaw. “Carakwas.”

  “Was this in the Maiden’s plan?” Tessa asks. Ardenal shakes his head, no.

  “What about Duggie-Sky?” Archie whispers.

  “And Nate?” Tessa grimaces, biting her lip.

  “Shut your bright eyes, Zeno. Turn your face to the ground,” Ardenal orders, ignoring the questions of his family. “We do not need them attracted to your light.”

  “I am going for Ella!” Tessa grits her teeth and jumps to her feet—but Ardenal swiftly wraps his arms around her waist and drags her to the forest floor.

  “You are not going anywhere. That is my only mission. The Olearons stand a chance against the carakwas. You do not. I will let go when it is over.”

  The clicking grows so loud that everyone, but Ardenal, covers their ears—even Zeno, who wears an expression of anxious dread across his wincing face. Through his grey skin, Zeno’s dulled yellow eyes can be seen, darting this way and that. The group can no longer hear each other or even their own thoughts. The clicks are sharp, piercing, deafening, impending. They do not slow and give no time for the company to catch their breath or a quiet moment for them to discuss a plan. Ardenal pulls Tessa away—with Archie and Zeno following helplessly. They crouch low in the tall grass on the forest’s edge a mere moment before the carakwas—thousands of them, intent and focused—scurry through the white forest twenty feet away, heading in the direction of the sea.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no . . .” Archie wheezes. Ardenal reads his father’s lips and makes a shushing gesture.

  The carakwas easily scale the rubble of the Bangol’s decimated beach fortress with their muscular reptilian legs. They tip their beetle heads up at the sky and screech—a sound so full bodied and malicious that Zeno quivers and clings to Archie like a child, like Duggie-Sky would have done if he had been with them. The salty air carries far the carakwa’s wicked howls and their pincher’s throaty clicks. The entire eastern beach hangs in stillness, as if holding its breath, waiting for the first casualty in the imminent onslaught.

  The creatures cross the beach and reach the edge of the sand, where the water laps gently. At first, they pause, then advance with a scraping sound from their claws against the stone bridges. The carakwas rise on the bridges, or float on the water’s surface. They continue to pour out of the forest. The beach, earth, stones, and sea are completely obscured beneath the carakwa’s dusty rainbow shells.

  The Bangols flood out from the cells and scream to each other across the expanses between the arches, over the carakwas on the water below. Some Bangols rush to their projectile cannons and send chiseled, razor-sharp stones raining down on the nearest lizard-beetles. Others plant their feet on the bridges and set their fierce buttery eyes to the beach. These Bangols spread their hands wide and speak to the earth beneath the sand in their curt language. The shore begins to quiver. Catching many carakwas unaware, spears of hard clay shoot up with the power of Naiu, directed by the Bangols. The stabbing motions of the sandy clay skewer many of the creatures that continue to thrash recklessly, lacerating others nearest to them. Still, the hungry mob is undeterred. Carakwas climb over their deceased counterparts and leave tracks of their oily blood on the bridges.

  Tuggeron and Chergrin race out of the cell. They holler orders and point directions to their fellow Bangols. Tuggeron fans his hulky fingers and piercing grey claws toward the beach and chants, his bellowing voice confident in its enchantment. Large sections of earth rise at his command and slap down onto the water’s face, crushing and drowning many carakwas, pulling their bodies to the sea floor as the dirt and sand and debris swiftly sink at the command.

  Chergrin howls into the white woodland and, in response, pebbles, stones and the remnants of the Bangol’s fortress from the beach begin to roll out, thwarting many carakwas as they charge the bridges. Adding to the cantankerous roar of clicking and screeching is the crunch of shells and wail of murdered Bangols, whose control of the earth and wielding of their stone weapons proves useless to the sheer number of possessed creatures. All effort is in vain.

  Tuggeron staggers backward. He turns with a flash of desperation to the Olearons. The Maiden and three brothers—who had watched from the crooked doorway of Tuggeron’s chamber at the end of the bridge—stand unmoving.

  “Your fire!” screams Tuggeron as the carakwas continue to pour out of the forest at his back. The lizard-beetle’s sharp nails can be heard and their vibrations felt against the stone bridge as they scurry nearer. “Burn them alive! Burn them now!” he commands.

  The Olearons burst into flame and the corners of Tuggeron’s chapped lips turn upward and he nods—but his satisfaction is fleeting. The Maiden and her warriors do not advance beyond the landing. Tuggeron’s circular eyes narrow to a bloodthirsty squint. H
e scrunches his lips beneath his grey nose and grinds his teeth.

  “Your truth has been revealed,” Tuggeron spits. He orders Chergrin forward. The guard charges past them and raises his stone mallet above his head. He wields it with such force that five carakwas crunch beneath his blow. Their blood paints the sea with rainbows of oily gloss. Chergrin kicks the lizard-beetle’s carcasses into the sea, out of his way, as he once more wields his mallet, and again connects.

  “When should we step in?” Nameris asks the Maiden.

  “Not yet,” she answers without flinching.

  Kameelo’s voice rises swiftly, “Look out, Maiden! At your side!” A carakwa—which had swum out to the barrel pier supporting the cells—scales the stones and approaches the Maiden quietly. Without shifting her eyes from the beach, the female Olearon points one hand at the thousand eyes on the nearing creature and they instantly melt. The carakwa screeches in agony and whips its beetle-head against the stones. The Maiden continues to send her flame upon the creature. It’s hard shell curls and whitens, then rises, weightless, as ash. It only takes a second for the flesh of the lizard to be incinerated.

  “Where did Tuggeron slink off to?” Askar asks, when the carakwa at their heels crumbles into charred pieces. His words snap the Maiden’s eyes away from the shore.

  “I saw him duck behind a cell,” she answers, stepping forward. “Is he not there?”

  Azkar growls, “No, Maiden.”

  “Search!” she commands and she jolts forward, her black gaze relentless.

  A raspy, deep-throated laugh cackles above their heads. Their eyes follow the sound. Tuggeron—waiving with his own stone mallet—is soaring rapidly, lifting-off in a balloon that had been concealed nearby, out of sight behind the rearmost cell.

  “Good luck down there,” the Bangol king bellows. “If you make it out alive, I promise—as I too do not lie—that I will hunt you down with my dying breath. I will use your bones to pick the cradle bird’s flesh from between my teeth. And your glass city, well! I will take much pride in seeing it shatter!”