Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

  Vee didn’t feel sad or scared. She felt angry. At Dacre for deceiving her and being an overall idiot, causing her to set foot on this godstarsforsaken planet. At the Centaurians for being so heartless to plot to destroy an entire galaxy. At the Alliance for being so blind to not know what was coming.

  She was angry at herself, too, for allowing bad things to happen to her, for feeling sorry for herself when she should’ve been fighting, setting an example for the daughter who knew her only as an older sister.

  But more than any of that, she was angry—no, furious—at this monstrous many-mouthed worm for trying to end her before she could make amends for her many mistakes.

  That fury coalesced inside of her, a bubbling froth that seemed to boil her blood. And then something happened. It had happened once before, the origin still a mystery to her, but now it happened again.

  Aura filled her blood, the power running through her from head to toe even as one arm was being devoured.

  She gritted her teeth and used her other hand to trace a glyph on the worm’s rough skin.

  When she was finished, she let the aura flow through her and into the spell. Not a portion of it, but all of it, a crashing wave that caused the symbol to shine bright purple just before the Class 5 version of a Class 3 spell activated.

  Incinerati.

  Heat swept over her, but she was not burned, her purple flames as harmless to her as a breath of fresh air.

  The worm monster wasn’t so lucky.

  It screamed from a thousand mouths as its skin caught fire, crackling and spitting. The smell of burned meat filled the air as it writhed and howled, its mouths snapping helplessly at nothing but smoke. Minnow fell from one of the mouths, landing with a thump in the chewed-up dirt.

  Vee lay still, what was left of her energy sapped, watching the monster burn, its flesh falling off in long, dry peels, its green blood bubbling and boiling. Millions of teeth fell from the mouths, tinkling to the ground like dropped pins.

  The worm’s body was a blob of burning flesh now, shrinking within itself. Its screaming had stopped as its many airways were filled with smoke and ash. Thick black smoke streamed into the air, forming a heavy cloud that blotted out the stars in the night sky.

  Vee breathed deeply, her eyes closing of their own volition.

  She didn’t sleep, but she wasn’t awake either. Something in between. She heard voices and the thump of footsteps. Someone had survived. That is good. She tried to open her eyes, but they refused, her eyelids as heavy as if weighed down by mighty anchors.

  The acrid smell was so strong now it was all she could focus on. She tried to feel something—anything—on her right side, where she knew her arm was mangled, perhaps severed from her shoulder, perhaps dangling by a thread of tendons and shattered bones.

  She felt nothing. Not pain. Not feeling. Nothing.

  It was as though she were outside her body, a world apart, looking down with blind eyes.

  After what might’ve been hours or days or only seconds—it was impossible to understand the meaning of time—a voice cut through the silence.

  “Vee?”

  Her eyes flashed open and she saw his face.

  ~~~

  Dacre frowned as he stared at the impression in the dirt. He was almost certain it was a trick of his eyes, or the unnatural night that had fallen once more.

  And yet the outline was that of a body, as if someone had lain in this very spot for so long they’d gouged their imprint into the earth.

  Dacre might’ve been apart from her for four long years, but he’d memorized every inch of her for even longer. “Vee?” he said, just a breath of a word, spoken with a hopefulness he knew he couldn’t allow himself.

  “C’mon,” Coffee said. “We should get back while there’s still time.”

  While the ground had rumbled, Dacre had explained what had happened—what the Grem mage had told him. The Cir’u’non were already leaving the wide circle within the canyons, vanishing mysteriously as they reentered the path they’d taken to get here. But still Dacre lingered, tethered to this spot by a feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

  He touched the dirt, his fingers coming away black. Not with earth or dust, but with ash tinted with purple.

  His breath caught. Impossible. Everything was impossible. If Vee had been here, he would’ve seen her, and not just a trick played by his eyes and memory.

  “Let’s go,” Coffee said, grabbing his arm.

  Dacre let the man pull him up, his eyes taking in that impression in the dirt one last time before he turned away.

  It was the exact size and shape of Verity Toya.

  ~~~

  Dacre Avvalon disappeared, and when Vee blinked it was only smoke she saw. And then Minnow, who had crawled over to her, dragging one leg behind him. He was splattered with ichor but alive. Terry pushed in beside him. The Chameleot didn’t seem to have sustained an injury.

  “My arm?” Vee said, afraid to look. She knew such damage could be repaired. Bone and skin could be regrown in many cases. If not, prosthetics were almost as good as the real thing, perhaps even better. The Machinists certainly seemed to think so.

  Minnow shook his head, and at first Vee thought the injury was so bad he couldn’t find the words, but then he said, “Your arm is fine.”

  She blinked. “What?” She sat up, feeling weak but not nearly as exhausted as before. She lifted her right arm, which looked much the same as the left, though it was dirtier from being pressed into the ground. There were no teeth marks. Not even puncture wounds. She knew it was impossible, for she had both felt and seen the teeth go through her flesh and bone.

  Miranda stood over her then, clutching her own shoulder, which seemed…off…like it was popped out of its socket. “I’ve heard stories like this before. When a spell healed the caster even as it decimated the mage’s enemies. But I always thought they were just stories.” Vee had too. Such myths were common in magical circles. Dacre had loved to tell them, except he always believed them.

  She noticed her MAG/EXP counter’s reading. 250,001. Vee breathed in and out, just staring at the numbers. Class 4 was no longer lightyears away. Hole, it was suddenly in the same galaxy as she was, just a single jump through hyperspace away.

  I used a class 5 spell, she remembered. At the time, she hadn’t considered the fact that it was a grievous violation of Alliance law, nor that she wasn’t trained or capable of casting such an advanced spell. All she’d felt was fury at the monster for hurting her friends.

  Is that what allowed me to do what I did? The anger? If so, she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. Magic, as the Alliance had always taught, was intended by the godstars to be a benevolent power. Those who strived to use it for evil would be cursed and eventually struck down.

  Vee had never believed such nonsense, but now…

  No, she thought. It’s still nonsense. I did nothing wrong. I protected us. I saved us.

  Still, something gnawed at her, the lessons from the Academy unwilling to release their hold. Something about what she’d done felt wrong and unnatural.

  An urgency filled her, and she stood up, almost falling as the alien world around her spun. Miranda held her steady. “You should rest,” the Centaurian mage said.

  “We need to go. Now.”

  Somehow Vee knew their quarry was escaping. And if they lost Dacre this time, she suspected they might never find him again.

  PART IV

  TWO DAYS UNTIL THE EVENT

  Chapter 29

  Reunion

  When Dacre reached the star-rig, the monster corpses were gone.

  Instead, there was a fancy starship, the patchwork metal of recent repairs obvious along one side.

  There was no doubt in his mind: It was the same starship he’d fought, and helped defeat, shortly after they’d made the jump into the Godstar IV system.

  The starship with the fire mage, he thought. And then: Quit being an idiot. It’s not some random fire mage. It’s her.


  They hustled up the gangway the moment it groaned open. Kukk’uk and his soldiers were the first in, followed by Clay Coffee and what was left of his crew. Dacre, however, paused to turn back, tilting his head to the side as he heard a sound. A distant cry. Not a bird or some other wildlife, but human. Like a call. There was another sound, too—footsteps. Running. Chasing. Pursuing.

  Urkusk seemed to tilt on its axis as Dacre finally felt the weight of what rested on his shoulders. The fate of a galaxy, dozens of populated planets, billions of souls. He was being hunted by those who didn’t understand—who might never understand.

  “Dacre?” a voice said, and he saw her. She emerged from behind a curve in the canyon, alone.

  The relief that bloomed in his chest was a force of nature. The Grems hadn’t been able to stop her. Verity Toya was not a woman to be stopped by anyone.

  Anyone, except him, that is.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, taking a step closer. She was so beautiful. Fiercely so.

  “Vee…”

  “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”

  The steel in her tone was heartbreaking, earthshattering. The eyes he’d once felt so comfortable staring into were cold, protected by impenetrable tritonium shields.

  “Vee…you’re here with Miranda, right? She found you and asked you to help her save the galaxy?” Dacre knew his fellow spy’s tactics. Miranda played on emotions because she was a woman without feelings herself. She’d broken him once, but he couldn’t let her do it again.

  “I know everything, Dacre. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

  “Vee, I’m not what you think I am.”

  “I know. You’re worse. I’d rather you’d cheated on me than plotted the extermination of my whole world.”

  “I’m trying to help!” Dacre said, hating that he lost his cool so quickly. But the thought of this woman he’d once cared deeply about thinking so little of him…it vibrated through him like a struck bell.

  She took a step closer, and he noticed she couldn’t even look him in the eye, her gaze rolling past his shoulder and skyward. She hates me. “I don’t believe you. You’re working with terrorists. You stole a prime artifact and enough pure aura to destroy a planet. And now you’re here…for what?”

  “I can’t tell you everything.” Dacre hated that he couldn’t.

  Vee laughed, but the sound was full of scorn, so different to the laugh he’d once sought with his own wit. He could still taste her in his memories, but even they were fading into this new life. “Even now you can’t be honest with me. Even now you are a stranger.” Dacre opened his mouth to say something, anything to repair the rift between them, the snapped cords that had once held them together. But she rushed on before he could voice a single syllable. “I already know about the mag-weapon. You have it, don’t you?”

  Dacre hadn’t seen it, but he believed what the Grem mage had said. He nodded. “Vee, you can’t stop what is coming, but I can.” It gnawed at him—the need to tell her the truth, everything. Why didn’t he? Was it a need to protect her? Was it because he hadn’t wanted her to know the truth about him, what he was, what he’d been sent here to do?

  Suddenly all the reasons not to tell her felt faded and worn. Lies to himself. He opened his mouth, prepared to finally deliver the truth he should’ve entrusted her with all those years ago in the Academy.

  Vee shook her head before he could speak, once more refusing to meet his eyes. He paused, studying her. This new Vee was an enigma to him. She spoke so differently. Looked different—harder, more confident. Not in a bad way. Just a different way. Life as an intragalactic security guard turned bounty hunter had made her fiercer. She had new layers he wished he would have a chance to peel back.

  But that was a fantasy and…

  Wait.

  He focused, pushing away all the shared memories and regrets and feelings. He searched the visual and audio clues and the furtive glances over his shoulder and he knew. Though Vee was different, at least part of this entire conversation was a charade, intended to stall him. Which meant he was out of time. He wanted to tell her the truth, but it couldn’t be now, not when saving her was the only thing he had left.

  “I’m sorry, Vee,” he said. “Goodbye.”

  “Wait,” she said, taking a quick-step forward, urgency in her tone.

  “May we meet again in the stars.”

  Dacre backed quickly into the star-rig and jammed the heel of his palm onto the door-closing button, watching the love of his life vanish once more.

  Chapter 30

  Flight

  “Dammit,” Vee said, running toward the star-rig just as Miranda appeared atop the cliff. As they’d planned, the Centaurian ex-spy had climbed while Vee had distracted Dacre. They’d left Minnow with his injured leg to hobble along behind.

  Before Miranda had begun to climb, she’d injected two large vials of aura directly into her vein, and now she looked strong and prepared, hefting her mag-rifle up and beginning a glyph on her spellscreen.

  No! Vee wanted to shout, because despite the mental and emotional wall she’d erected before seeing Dacre again, his words had cut her to the quick. She wanted to believe him, even if she knew every word was a lie. Nothing else made sense.

  The star-rig began to rumble, its engines firing.

  Miranda aimed her weapon, the barrel glinting in the starlight.

  The spell was almost invisible, the small silver edge giving it away, a rush of air that was meant to ground the star-rig so they could breach its hull and take down its occupants.

  But something was off.

  Instead of slamming into the rig’s roof and holding it down, the wind buffeted its tail—the tank—where the liquid aura was stored. The force was so powerful that the massive magium-coated rig began to turn. Because of the magic-proof metal, the rig couldn’t be breached by a spell, but it could be moved.

  She’s going to slam it into the cliffs, Vee realized with a start.

  Which, she knew, would likely cause an explosion that would kill everyone inside the rig. Aura hummed through her veins and she raised her hand—there was no time to draw her weapon and, inexplicably, she no longer needed it. The symbol she drew was a quick and dirty one, but perfection was the last thing on her mind.

  The jet of purple flame that erupted from her fingertip was thin and weak and wouldn’t do serious damage, but it was enough.

  Miranda Petros yelped as she fell back, dropping her mag-rifle, the rush of air disappearing instantly.

  Vee watched as the rig righted itself, lifting slowly into the air. Dust and heat washed over her as the engines pushed it skywards. And then, with a burst, it was gone, a speck of light rocketing away.

  Gone.

  Atop the cliffs, Miranda clambered to her feet. The look she gave Vee was scathing.

  At least Terry got inside, Vee thought, which had been the backup plan. While she’d spoken to Dacre, she’d watched the nearly invisible ripple of air as her old friend had darted up the gangway and slipped inside.

  “You ever try to kill one of my friends again,” Vee said, firing her own hard stare back at Miranda, “and I’ll kill you myself.”

  With that said, she headed back through the canyons to find Minnow. They needed to get back to their starship and resume their pursuit.

  Chapter 31

  A spy for a spy

  The color of Terry’s body adjusted easily as he transitioned from the long corridor to the control room. By this point in his life, he was an expert at disguise, and yet smart enough to know he needed to be extra careful. The Jackals might be violent bastards, but they also had very good eyes.

  His only advantage was that they didn’t yet know he was here, an advantage he planned to maintain as long as possible.

  His chest became a glowing screen as he slunk past a control panel, his eyes never leaving the Jackal at the ropes. Beyond the view window, the dark reaches of space beckoned him. Inside, there were half a do
zen Jackals and a group of misfits who seemed to be led by a gruff-looking man who was inspecting a large machine that looked out of place where it rested in the center of the floor.

  And then there was Dacre Avvalon—the man who’d caused irreparable emotional harm to Vee. Terry tamped down the urge to sneak up behind and strangle him, if only because he knew he wouldn’t be able to squeeze the life out of the solid man before one of the Jackals or criminals stopped him. No, he would bide his time and then strike like a viper.

  “It don’t look like a weapon,” one of the rough-looking crew members said. He was a Grobnik. Terry was no bigot, but he’d never met a Grob he liked.

  “You’ve seen many Grem mag-weapons?” the leader said, raising a patronizing eyebrow. He ran a hand over the side. “The craftsmanship is…unique. There are no seams. No way of taking it apart to see what’s inside.”

  Dacre stepped forward, blinking twice and seeming to emerge from a haze. “Do you think it will work?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. But what other choice do we have?”

  The Jackal at the helm clicked something that sounded like a rebuke, though Terry was no expert in the rough language.

  “The Academy will fall,” Dacre said. “One way or another. And then the Alliance. Nothing has changed. Get us to Jarnum.”

  The Jackal’s sharp beak pressed together, and its eyes narrowed, but then it twisted the ropes, which brightened in response. The ship hummed slightly, its engines cycling more rapidly.

  No, not its engines, Terry thought. Its hyperdrive.

  He hurried along the wall and out of the control room, heading for where he suspected the engine room would be. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to sabotage a rig’s hyperdrive.

  There were many things Vee didn’t know about him, most of it from the time before he’d arrived on Archimedes. Yes, his time as a space pirate would serve him well now.

  His head swiveled back and forth as his hand hovered over the button to open the door marked ENGINE. A sound gave him pause, and probably saved him, because just then a Jackal emerged from the far end of the hallway, its wings allowing it to hover and move toward him almost soundlessly. Almost. It was the displacement of air his keen ears had picked up. Completely motionless, he held his breath and waited until the Jackal had passed and disappeared into the control room.