by J. A. Comley
The High Lord sent his power surging into the woman in front of him. He kept it slow and steady. She should be feeling a warmth spread from her hand all over her body and then a calm oblivion until he chose to end the spell. Sending his consciousness into her, he was vaguely aware of the dungeon vanishing from awareness as he entered her mind.
The High Lord relaxed the flow of power as, formless, he floated in the dark, the woman's memories floating with him. He took hold of one. He saw the little bird, a sparrowhawk. He saw it as the woman saw it. A friend. He let it go. The woman was from Earth. The plain, brown trees in the memory had been unmistakable. He increased the flow of magic again and streamed through her memories, not really seeing them as he performed a Trace spell. Satisfaction came to him as it became clear that Kyron had never touched this mind. She was not a spy. Yet, how had she got here? He probed deeper.
The warmth had passed and suddenly little lights appeared. They were memories, Starla knew instinctively. Her memories. And as she became aware of them, she also grew aware of another … something. Something that didn't belong. Searching for it, she found a bright, silver light, and immediately she knew that it was the High Lord. She could feel him probing her memories, looking for information. She saw herself and Aimee back on Earth as he held the memory. Patiently, she waited as the High Lord searched for signs of Kyron's hand.
Starla knew the exact moment that the High Lord discovered that she was not a spy. His light seemed to swell larger. She still didn't know how she knew what he was doing but she was glad she had some measure of control. His presence had grown focused again. He was still searching.
What for? Stifling her annoyance at his continued intrusion, she watched her memories as he caught them. She saw Elise's wedding begin. He jumped to another memory, her and Pierre dancing. He moved towards another, the night she had confronted her family, but passed it by without looking. He jumped again. Raoul leading her outside. The kiss. If she was still connected to her body, she was sure to be blushing. The High Lord let it go and took up a different memory. She was in the grove with Aimee. Any minute now a shooting star would—
No! Starla thought. Gaby's warning and her own promise held her. She lashed out at the memory, willing it to change.
The High Lord nearly lost focus as the memory he was holding changed abruptly. Now the memory was of the woman already here, in Rainbow Wood. The Guardians were appearing, offering her help. He increased his power, concentrating harder, but still the memories kept slipping and changing. Confused, he let go. Stilled himself. There. Another presence. His magic dropped to a dribble as shock overcame him. It was her. But the woman was not magical. He could find no source for her power. Yet, there she was, her light of gold pulsing beside him. Keeping him at bay.
How is she interfering? And why? He surged even greater power into her, using some to hold her, and the rest to grab the memory where Gaby was explaining their plan.
He felt her trying to push past his barrier, then become still as she realised how futile it was. He had not wanted to use force but this land had suffered too much to trust blindly. He turned his full attention to the memory, knowing the barrier would hold steady.
The High Lord felt a horrible wrenching sensation in his chest as the memory vanished and the darkness crushed him.
The dungeons re-materialised around him. The High Lord stared at Starla. Anger, confusion and amazement swam in his indigo eyes. He was breathing hard, one hand clutching his chest, the other his head, in pain.
The High Lord's lips thinned as the woman refused to meet his eyes again.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice harsher than intended. She jerked her head up, green eyes wide with fear as she stumbled back a step. He moderated his tone. A little. “How did you do that?” No-one had ever been able to cast him out before. Many had tried.
“I don't know, High Lord,” Starla stammered, her eyes still fearful. She hurried on as he narrowed his eyes. “I tried to focus on my body. When I found it, I just pulled my hand away.”
“You could have killed me.” His anger turned his voice to granite.
Her emerald eyes widened in genuine horror and she stepped up to the bars again, looking up at him, concern replacing fear.
“Please, my lord, I didn't mean to cause harm. I didn't know what would happen,” Starla said beseechingly. “Please, High Lord. You know I am not a spy. You saw it.”
It was his turn to take a step back, eyes still locked on hers. “Why stop me, if you have nothing to hide?”
Starla smiled sadly. “I made a promise, High Lord, to the Sacrileon, Gaby. Please don't ask me to break it.” She gracefully held out her hand again, an offering.
“Don't let go this time. Please,” he said, still grimacing in pain. He took her hand, his eyes hard.
“I promise,” she smiled. A beautiful smile.
The High Lord began his spell again, now letting her guide him. He searched for signs of dishonesty as she edited the memories he viewed. This time, he released her hand first, as was proper.
The woman was still smiling.
“You know I did not lie,” she stated.
“I know that you are not Kyron's. I know that you mean Galatia no harm. But … your secret. It is important. I can feel the emotions within the memories I read and it is of great importance.” He shook his head, looking down at her. “By keeping it, you may do Galatia harm without knowing it. But I shall trust it to you. For now.”
She threw him a radiant smile, which had a strange effect on him. When he had entered her mind he had felt her kindness and generosity. Her strength.
She was watching him now, curious, no longer afraid. Self-consciously, he turned so that his face fell in shadow.
“The King will be waiting,” he muttered, chiding himself as he left.
Who cares what a dirty prisoner thinks of me? he thought, then cursed himself for the unkindness.
“Thank you, High Lord,” the woman called after him. She was curtsying again. Hopefully she would remember how to bow properly at the trial. From her memories, he knew the Guardians had explained as much.
“Don't thank me yet. I may have done you great harm by defending your right to speak. The Baron will not fight fairly now that he knows I am on the other side of his argument.” He gave her a grim smile, then strode swiftly away.
***
The Captains of the Guard arrived, along with six officers and one Makhi. They closed a box around her, with the Makhi at the head as they escorted her to her trial. He strutted like a peacock, white robe swaying.
Starla wondered at the increased security, but a guard with a bulbous nose soon cleared the matter.
“She's just a girl,” the guard said, words a little slurred. “Why'd the Baron insist on us coming too?”
No one paid him any heed as they marched out of tower but his words reminded Starla of the High Lord's warning about the Baron. She pushed the thought from her mind as brilliant sunlight hit her face. It felt very warm after the cold of the dungeons.
Buoyed by the High Lord's unexpected support, Starla allowed herself to admire the tall, glass spires of the palace. Back-lit by the afternoon sun, they glittered with thousands of tiny rainbows. They were all shaped like creatures she had never seen before, although she thought one of them might have been an ergothan.
Soon, her escort turned left, away from the palace and through a sweet-smelling clearing. Everywhere in the sea-green grass, clusters of wild flowers grew. White, baby-blue, butter-yellow. Through small gaps between the guards, Starla spotted some large manor houses, also sparkling brightly in the rays of sunlight. Unlike the Market District, the buildings here seemed entirely carved from glass. Their façades adorned with expertly crafted sculptures of more creatures entirely unknown to Starla. Again, Starla found herself wondering how they made this kind of glass. She expected to be able to see into the houses she passed, but the smooth sheets somehow prevented it. Here and there were some less ornate buildi
ngs, usually of white alabaster. Servants moved in and out of these, constantly.
Starla looked forward. A short way ahead, the path ended at the foot of a small rise, sea-green grass stretching off in either direction. The building above her was not made of glass. It seemed entirely carved of alabaster, white but glowing with a golden inner light. It was shaped like a large oval, with a roof of ordinary, clear glass. A red blossom crossed by a carving of a curved sword and staff and encircled by seven stars stood above the enormous stone doors.
Starla's throat closed as she stepped inside the building. The small atrium was tiled in copper and bronze set in a hexagonal pattern across the floor. The walls were smooth, unadorned alabaster.
Soon, it would be her trial and the Baron would be vying for her execution, apparently simply to spite the High Lord. Her escort led her over to the right side of the antechamber, where a female Makhi with short, curling, grey hair stood waiting.
Starla tried not to stare. This Makhi had yellow eyes with pupils like a cat's. Her ears were slightly pointed and her skin was a stunning shade of cinnamon.
Eyeing her sternly, one of the guards uncuffed her. As the guards stepped back, the Makhi motioned Starla to a tall mirror and washstand. Waving her staff, she created a blue haze around them.
“The men cannot see you now.” Her canines were slightly longer than normal.
“Thank you,” Starla said, bowing as the Guardians had taught her. She turned to the mirror. Her reflection was worse than she had thought. Cuts and slowly-yellowing bruises adorned every inch of visible skin. Over them was a layer of charcoal and dirt. Starla grimaced. Her nightdress looked far worse, stained with earth, burned and ripped. Fortunately, the cloak Gaby had given her would cover most of it.
How am I going to hide the amulet? Perhaps if I just washed my arms and face—
“No. You must remove those. They are evidence,” The Makhi said, holding out her hand for Starla's clothes.
Staring, Starla noticed the grey bundle under the Makhi's arm for the first time.
“I shall turn my back if it'll help,” she added kindly, mistaking Starla's hesitancy for shyness. She placed the bundle on the floor. “Let me know when you need more clean water.”
Carefully, but quickly, Starla cleaned herself, doing the best she could with only water. The first time Starla asked for clean water, she had been unable to stop her gasp of wonder as the Makhi waved her staff and the washbasin emptied and refilled instantly. By the fifth time, it seemed almost normal. She used a thong from her old boots to secure her damp, tangled hair in a bun. It was still a dull, dirty yellow but at least it wasn't full of mud and twigs.
The grey bundle turned out to be a plain, grey, floor-length tunic with a high neckline, revealing only her throat. It was a little long and the material was harsh against her skin but at least it was clean. Carefully, Starla attached her baby bracelet to the Star's necklace and put both around her neck, tucking them under her tunic, grateful for its slight bagginess.
“I am done, thank you.”
“I'm going to follow protocol. Please don't panic,” the Makhi said, already waving her staff.
The blue haze vanished and Starla was suddenly gripped by an invisible force holding her with her arms out to either side like a cross. Her wide eyes sought the Makhi, but the woman had moved behind her. The guards quickly stepped forward and placed a band of blood-red metal about her waist. Her arms were swept forwards against her will and a similar band was placed about her wrists. The force holding her vanished.
“Stand here,” the old Makhi ordered, pointing to a small hole in the middle of the room on the floor, as if nothing odd had transpired.
Starla stepped up to it, fearful that another wave of magic would drag her there if she delayed. A silver chain shot out of the hole and snaked itself up to the bands around her wrists and waist, fusing with the bands where they touched. The Makhi's lips moved silently as she cast a spell on the chains. They flashed white and then faded to the same blood colour as the bands.
“Chain her well,” came an unwelcome voice from the shadows of the great outer doors, sending a shiver down Starla's spine.
The Baron shifted slightly into the light as the Makhi finished her spell. Starla forced her face to remain smooth as she looked to the alabaster wall before her. The Baron would leave, sooner or later.
“She is properly secured, Baron,” the Makhi said, with a slight, respectful nod of her head.
Through a side door that Starla hadn't noticed, its frame barely discernible from the wall, the High Commander came striding. Her dark, honey-coloured ponytail swished against her armour. She looked over those present, her eyes passing over Starla briefly, focused more on the chains than on her.
“Captains, inside. The King arrives. The rest of you, back to your duties.”
“Yes, High Commander,” the men said, saluting, fists to hearts, before hastening to obey.
Commander D'Ordeley, halfway through the door, looked back at the Baron suspiciously. Starla noted that the Baron hadn't moved from the main doors and was in deep conversation with the Makhi who had led her escort from the prisons.
“Baron Braxton?” the High Commander said, gesturing to the side door.
“I will be inside shortly, Commander D'Ordeley,” the Baron responded, his tone indicating that he would not be interrupted. The Commander looked ready to challenge the Baron but seemed to think better of it.
“Captain Trent,” she called to a young Captain still just inside side the door, “you shall be stationed out here until the prisoner enters the court.”
The Captain, with wiry ginger hair, moved to stand to attention at the wall behind Starla after saluting. The High Commander glanced at Starla again. “When you enter the Hall, do not step into the ring of stars until I command it. Good,” she added to Starla's nod.
Her eyes flashed to the Baron once more and she muttered to herself as she entered the court through the side door.
Starla watched with a heavy heart as the young Commander left. Metal ringing on metal announced the Baron's return from the doors. The bottom of his shoes seemed to be soled in silver, catching the light as he came in to view. He began to circle her slowly, like a vulture above its prey. Starla determined it would be best if she did not speak, no matter what he said. He would not fight fairly. That was the High Lord's warning. Starla steeled herself. She would not rise to his taunting. She fixed her eyes on the floor. He stopped in front of her, clicking his tongue in disapproval. A moment later, the thong securing her bun had been ripped away.
A gasp slid through Starla's clenched teeth as all her muscles tensed. Instinctively, she looked for the Captain. He flashed her a toothy grin and then sauntered out of the main doors, tapping the thong the Baron had given him, casually against his palm.
The Baron's grey eyes took her in silently. Their unblinking scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Forcing her breathing to remain normal, Starla locked her eyes on the wall. She would not let him provoke her.
“Hmm,” the Baron murmured, a small, coughing laugh escaping him. “Now I understand why the High Lord begged the King to postpone. Under all that grime, there seems to be something quite lovely. Pretty things like you have been rare since Lord Kyron's invasion. But that is not your fault. I should apologise for my words earlier. We are all a little strained at the moment.”
Starla's eyes snapped up to his at his words and sincere delivery. His mouth curled in an amused smile. Cursing her stupidity, Starla dropped her eyes.
He started to pace around her again, licking his lips, fortifying the image of a lion stalking its prey. Starla began to count the links on the chain holding her to the spot.
“You remind me of someone I once knew,” he whispered, grabbing a loose strand of her hair, his voice sounding a little less dead.
Starla flinched. Every cell in her body was urging her to run. The cuffs dug into her skin as she leaned away from him, struggling to maintain composure.
“You know, I could convince the court to find in your favour. It would be in your interests to side with me rather than that excuse for a High Lord. I am sure you have seen the coldness in his eyes. He cannot help you,” he said, one hand gently tipping up her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes again, mere inches between them. “I can help you. I will help you. I will free you. I'd be happy to, if, in return, you side with me. You will swear to obey me. You will help me to expose the High Lord.” His grip on her chin tightened. “After all, this is ultimately Larkel's fault, not yours.”
His eyes fell to her mouth as she opened it to refuse. One finger stilled her words, tracing her lips. His eyes lost focus again as they had done in the dungeon. A desperate longing bloomed in his eyes. Starla's disgust was as instantaneous as her understanding. Before she could scream, his lips were like a vice over hers, his hands imprisoning her head. Desperate, she bit down, hard. His blood gushed into her mouth. Starla spat it out, its taste nauseating. His strangled profanities bounced around the small antechamber.
The strength of the slap that followed brought little points of light to life in front of Starla's eyes as she stumbled down on to one knee. This time, it was her own blood she spat out. She could feel her eye and lip swelling, blood dripping down her chin, splashing onto her new tunic. She tried to struggle away as the Baron yanked her up by her chains, one hand tangling in her loose hair. Her heart pounded as her bonds bit deeper into her skin.
“You'll regret that,” he snarled in her ear, unsheathing a dagger from inside his coat.
Starla froze as he loomed over her, pressing the blade to her throat. She felt a small prick as its tip broke the skin.
“Stupid girl.” He turned from her, suddenly seeming tortured by something she couldn't see. “You're nothing like her … gone, always, she's gone—” He turned his grey eyes back on her, the madness in them fading into an emptiness that was far more terrifying. “Now, I will make sure you die, slowly. Although, not before I have had all that I want from you.” He smiled at the thought, twisting the point of the dagger a little.
