Starmaker Stella (Dica Series Book 6)

by Clive S. Johnson

  Stella only now noticed, as stillness settled about them, that Leigarre Perfinn gently hummed, a faint resonance coming up through the floor. When she touched it, she could feel it tingling beneath her now bloodied fingertips.

  Mirabel again spoke, her voice even weaker. “Once ... once you’ve done that, the door for the cask will have opened.” She parted her eyelids and stared up at Nephril. “He’ll know what to do next,” and Stella turned to see Nephril solemnly nod.

  When Stella looked back at Mirabel, it was to see her gazing up at her own tear-stained face.

  Stella softly groaned, “Oh, my love,” and gently laid her cheek once more against Mirabel’s. “I’m so sorry. I really, really am. I should never have got you involved.”

  “You did right, Stella,” and Mirabel clearly summoned the last of her remaining strength. “Remember our night together at the college, in your room?”

  Stella nodded her cheek against Mirabel’s.

  “I said then I thought I’d found a new purpose in you. I wasn’t wrong. I’d long thought Mother had done our cuckoo’s duty...” Her body spasmed, pain coursing across her face. “I’m ... I’m proud now to ... to have been the one who finally fulfilled our role, that it was I who at last did right by our promise to the ancient engers.”

  Mirabel remained still awhile, her breath shallow, cheek yet colder still, but her voice again drifted from between her slackened lips. “I am content ... at peace, but the joy of your pure and simple love lingers most, Stella,” and Stella lifted her face to look down upon Mirabel’s. “The only true love I have ever known. So, my petal, keep me in a corner of your heart ... and ... and remember me ... always,” and Mirabel’s smile lingered a moment before releasing her grey lips to drift apart, still and breathless now.

  Nephril leant in and wrapped an arm about Stella’s shoulders, but she pushed herself to her feet through his grasp, quickly turning to his startled face. She slipped the cask from her shoulders and placed it at his feet, only now looking around the room.

  Bright and surprisingly large, it was dominated by a shiny, featureless column that jutted up from the centre of the floor, some ten yards across and coming to a blunt point well above head height. A few yards of clear space ran around it before the floor gave out to a gap, the width of the stairs and down which vanished a further curved flight. At intervals, narrow walkways crossed to doors set in the circular outer wall.

  “Which one do we take the cask through, Nephril?”

  “Which one, Stella?”

  “Which door did Mirabel fail to open?”

  “Ah,” and Nephril nodded before stretching his arm out towards the huge column.”

  “Eh? I don’t understand.”

  “Its outline is too fine to see, Stella, but the door in question opens out from the side of this shaft.”

  Stella narrowed her eyes. “If you say so, Nephril. I’ll see soon enough anyway. You get the cask ready and I’ll go open the door,” and she turned back to the stairs but froze at the sight of Mirabel. Fighting back tears, she took off her jacket and carefully laid it across her friend, a hand briefly on Mirabel’s own before she stepped over her and up the steps.

  Just as Mirabel had described, Stella found the knurled nut and firmly grasped it. At first, it wouldn’t budge, but then spun loose with a jerk. A loud hiss soon turned into a scream, filling her ears as she leapt back, keeping well clear.

  It seemed an age, standing with her hands at her ears, until it finally dwindled to silence. Carefully, she measured a count of sixty before kneeling back and screwing the nut tight shut once more.

  The blue line led her back to the stairs, down which she hurried towards Mirabel’s shrouded body, peering beneath the room’s ceiling for a first glimpse of the column.

  A rounded section of it now rested like a shelf, jutting out into the room, but the sight of the cask – still strapped into its harness – stopped her mid-step. Nephril stood before the door’s opening, staring up at her, but Stella’s heart sank at the worrying look now on his face.

  58 Love’s not Time’s Fool

  “I cannot do it, Stella. I am sorry, but I cannot.”

  “Why ever not, Nephril?” and Stella tried to take his hand but he moved away. He stared at Mirabel’s covered body and froze, clearly seeing more.

  “For thee to understand,” he presently told her, his face now set grim, “I need to tell thee of her mother’s death, of Lady Lambsplitter’s own sacrifice that ended here, before this very building’s entrance.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Long before thou were born, when Leiyatel was nigh upon death, I had cause to remove Leiyatel’s remains from Baradcar.”

  He paused, as though reliving those times.

  “As I do now rightly know her to have been a cuckoo, Lady Lambsplitter was true to her purpose and finally coerced me into bringing those remains here, to Leigarre Perfinn, to reseed Baradcar.”

  “Carried on your wealcan I believe, Nephril?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Of course, yes, Mirabel would no doubt hath told thee what she knew. What she only recently learnt, though, was that I had other plans that day.”

  “To destroy Leiyatel’s remains, once and for all.”

  “Ah, so Mirabel clearly had time to tell thee that as well.”

  “She told me a while back, Nephril. They’d long known of your disenchantment with Leiyatel.”

  “Had they indeed? The ever astute Lady Lambsplitter, no doubt. I must have been an open book to her,” and a wistfulness crossed his face. “She and Phaylan it was who stayed mine hand, who turned me away from destroying Leiyatel, but, Stella, it was Nature herself who finally convinced me of the folly of mine wishes.”

  “Nature?”

  “Aye, Nature, mine precious child.” His eyes widened, clearly at the memory, at some horror writ plain before his mind’s eye. “Nature was there at the Gap. Firstly, her agent, a dark shadowy figure, like the one I saw at Bazarral harbour, but then Nature herself stole in, looming large above Mount Esnadac’s fiery tumult, threatening oblivion upon our realm.”

  Nephril turned Stella a pained look. “I saw then what a fool I had been,” and he lowered his gaze to the floor, avoiding the compassion Stella knew her eyes must have shown.

  Realisation now crashed in upon her and she quickly grabbed his arms. “But, Nephril, don’t you see?”

  He peeked up at her jubilant face and frowned.

  “You finally brought Leiyatel’s cask here, replanted it so she would grow anew. You did that in the face of Nature’s forbiddance.”

  He now stared at her, his frown even deeper.

  “You fought Nature on that day, Nephril, at that eleventh hour, and ... and denied her her victory, chose order above chaos. You fought your own battle with Nature, and brought her to a truce that saved our realm.”

  When he again only stared at her, she enthused, “Don’t you see? At that very moment, you became like me; strong in your denial of submission, purposeful in your choice of order, fired of a true spirit that saw this grey realm of ours as a world wrought with colour.” She stared into his eyes, willing him to see. “What did you say to Nature, Nephril? What was your parting shot?”

  Surprise shattered Nephril’s frown. “Well, I ... I...” and the memory clearly rose starkly in his mind. “I shouted up at her, ‘Our challenge now be at the chase, mine paltry promise, a chase through which I will better thee’, but, Stella, what did I mean?”

  Stella smiled, broadly, and her grip at his arms firmed. “You meant you were going to do what you knew was right, to deny Nature her rule, that you were going to save Leiyatel and so ensure Dica’s survival – despite Nature’s disapproval.”

  “But I did not know then how crucial the Certain Power was to preserving the realm’s fabric. Only later did I learn of this.”

  “But you did know, Nephril. Your spirit knew; a spirit that could at last see true, free of Leiyatel’s interference – and so, free to be in balance with N
ature.”

  Nephril stared at her for a long while before slowly shaking his head. “No, Stella. No. Nature deceives thee, as she once tried to deceive me.”

  Stella hurled a hollow laugh at him. “Leiyatel is once again making a fool of you. You do know that don’t you? The thing is, Nephril, I’m now even more convinced Nature was within you back then. Still is, but hidden by Leiyatel, so deeply beneath your weft and weave even Aunt Prescinda couldn’t see it. After all, who else could have brought Nature into the realm at that time and place, of all those present, except you?”

  “What? Now thou dost talk as though thou art mad, Stella. This must surely be a sign that Nature has turned thy mind. Nature in me? Fah. It be not possible.”

  “It is possible, Nephril, the knowledge of which Leiyatel has since learnt to suppress – with her images. If you were to deny her those, to regain that balance you had with your own Nature, then you’d be able to see the very love within you that yearns to blossom.”

  At first, Nephril almost glowered at Stella, but his features slowly softened. “Again, thou try to entice me. I can see that plainly enough, Stella, but thou must understand, I cannot love thee, however much I may wish it so. After all, I am more than two thousand...”

  “Two thousand years older than me, yes, Nephril; I thought you might bring that one up, but it’s only what you think.”

  “Think?”

  “I told you before, Leiyatel has granted you your immortality by removing you from time; holding you locked in amber. I’m sure of it. Tell me, Nephril; what age were you when the ancient engers altered your weft and weave?”

  “Age? Err, well, twenty-two summers, if memory serves.”

  “And you stayed at that same age, Nephril, until Leiyatel drew near to death, not long ago, when time for you only then began to slip forward until she became strong again.”

  Nephril only shook his head.

  “How else would you explain why you still ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ everyone, eh?”

  He now peered at her, clearly confused.

  “You’ve drifted through the millennia without change, Nephril, been set aside from time, still speaking the old tongue. If truth be told, you’re not much older than me, still a young, handsome man, not a dirty old one as you fear – or as Leiyatel would have you believe.”

  Tentatively, Nephril let her draw near, wrap her arms about his waist, rest her cheek against his chest, but he did not stir.

  “Are you going to deny your love for me, Nephril, and so deny me my very own for you? Are you going to let Leiyatel hold false images of who you are before your gaze, and so smite what we both know we should share? Are you going to do that when the key to our happiness even now sits on the floor by our feet, before the lock into which it should rightly be thrust?”

  Nephril stared down at the cask, although Stella only felt him slowly but surely relax. His hands rose to her back, pressing her against him, trembling at the joy of a longed for touch.

  “I do not ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ anyone ... do I, Stella? Honestly?”

  “I’m afraid you do, Nephril. You always have, from what everyone says.”

  Through his embarrassment, Nephril grasped a hint of how young he could feel. The millennia he’d seen pass by the amber in which he’d lain now seemed as though it could dissolve in the press of Stella’s close warmth. He raised his hands to her shorn hair and gently turned and lifted her face to his, her eyes deep, dark, brimmed full of a natural longing.

  As he lowered his gaze to her soft and parted lips, he murmured, “Thou hath finally drawn me out. Dost thou know that, Stella?”

  “Out?” and her lips smiled her question.

  “From beneath Leiyatel’s petticoats; out into thy loving embrace,” and he lowered his lips to hers, a mingling of their purpose, a firming at last of a shared resolve.

  Stella eventually leant away. “Then do you have the strength to finish our task, Nephril? To honour Mirabel’s sacrifice?” and he glanced towards the stairs and slowly nodded.

  Together, they removed the cask from its frame before Nephril placed it just so within the column’s black opening, finally stepping back to stand beside Stella. As the new Certain Power silently slid in, the door smoothly raised of its own accord until it hissed shut, as though it had never been.

  “The deed be done,” Nephril quietly said. “Only time will tell if we have done right, Stella. Time alone,” and he slipped his hand into hers, clearly more to him now than a mere keepsake, or so his heart still fervently hoped.

  59 In the Last, a True World

  Stella had stood there for so long, Mr. Blackbird had taken to grubbing beneath the windblown leaf litter close by her feet. She looked down at him.

  “Good morning,” she said, and the bird paused, cocking an eye at her before once more casting leaves aside and peering at the ground beneath. “Found any tasty grubs yet?” but he ignored her and hopped on a little way.

  “No longer a novelty I see,” and she returned her gaze to the plaque on the wall before her, her mind again filling with memories.

  “Mummy?” came a familiar voice, the clomp of small boots on stone flags finally drawing a smile and a knowing gaze from Stella. “Mummy? Are you going to be long? You know Uncle Grog has promised to let me choose my rabbit today.”

  Stella smiled at her daughter as she squatted to receive her into her arms. “I said I wouldn’t be long, young miss, and you’d to wait.”

  “But you’ve been ages,” the child grumbled as she threw her arms about her mother’s neck, lifting Stella’s gaze to where the sun now hung.

  “I suppose I have been a while.”

  “And I don’t like this place, Mummy. It’s creepy.”

  “Don’t you like the bright yellow building then, my petal?” but the girl just puckered her nose, glancing warily up at the dome. She shook her head and buried her face in Stella’s shoulder.

  “Come on then. Up we ... go. Phew, but you’re getting to be a fair weight now. Growing up fast.” Stella shifted her daughter into one arm and reached out her free hand, her finger caressing the plaque’s carved letters.

  “What’s it say, Mummy?”

  “Hmm? Oh, well, it’s a kind of thank you, to two very important people.”

  “A thank you? What? Like what you have to say to someone who gives you a nice rabbit for your birthday?”

  Stella smiled and angled her head back, so she could narrow her gaze at her daughter’s mock look of innocence.

  “In a way, petal, in a way,” and their gazes locked for a moment until they both burst out laughing.

  “Better get you to Blisteraising then, eh, before those rabbits grow up, get married and leave home?”

  “They don’t grow that fast do they?”

  “No, no they don’t, not quite,” and Stella playfully nipped her daughter’s nose between her knuckles, making her giggle.

  “Come on then, let’s find Daddy,” at which Nephril stepped out from beside the building, a broad grin filling his face. “You haven’t been spying on us have you, Nephril?”

  He wrapped an arm around them both and stole a kiss from each. “Only a husband and father’s pride, my dearest. You can’t fault me for that, surely?”

  Stella looked into his eyes for a moment, too long for their daughter, though, who began to squirm impatiently.

  Nephril stepped away. “Thy carriage awaits thee, madam, mistress,” and he bowed his head, his arm outstretched.

  They were soon back at the driveway and climbing aboard.

  “Drive on, Henson, drive on,” Nephril called up as he stepped in, “and take the quickest road if thou would ... if you would. My daughter here be in earnest of her birthday party,” and Henson touched his cap before cracking his whip, urging Ginny on at a trot down the drive.

  By the time they drew into the farmyard at Blisteraising, both parents were as grateful of their journey’s end as their now overexcited daughter. As soon as Nephril opened the carriage
door, she was out and off across the yard, down to the gable entrance where Prescinda already waited to greet her.

  “Well, look at you,” she had time to say before being almost bowled over. “So,” she said, lifting the girl in both hands and perching her on her hip, “how’s my birthday girl doing then, eh? Looking forward to your party?”

  A vigorous nod preceded a surprisingly strong hug about Prescinda’s neck, making her laugh. “Oh dear, but you’re going to choke me,” and she carefully put her down as Nephril and Stella joined them.

  As the adults hugged and kissed their greetings, Grog appeared from the kitchen, standing at the end of the entrance passageway. His niece, however, could clearly bear the wait no longer.

  “Uncle Grog,” she screamed and ran in, straight into his strong arms.

  “Mirabel,” he laughed, lifting her and swinging her around in a circle, round and round and into the kitchen, out of sight if not hearing.

  Prescinda cocked her head and grinned at Stella and Nephril. “Welcome to your old home, Stella,” and they hugged and kissed again. “And a warm welcome to you, Nephril. It’s good to see you again ... unless of course you’ve got another bizarre request of me,” and they both stifled grins before breaking into laughter and hugging once more.

  “Not this time, Prescinda, no. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling Mirabel’s special day. Maybe tomorrow, eh?”

  Prescinda pecked him on the cheek. “Come on in then. We’ve quite a few people here already,” she said as she led them through towards the kitchen, the air rich with savoury smells and the hubbub of conversation.

  As they entered the packed room, Grog and Mirabel were nowhere to be seen, unsurprisingly, although a childish squeal of delight cut through to them from the front of the house. Faces had already turned their way, looking over tankard and cup and through coiling clouds of tobacco smoke.

  Geran’s beaming smile first anchored Nephril’s darting eyes, and she stepped forward to embrace him. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of Falmeard – a simple smile on his face as usual – but then another face sprang from the throng and, for a moment, froze him in place.