by J. A. Comley
Beyond the double ring of Walls, Starla could see the golden tops of Rainbow Wood trailing downhill to the south east. Beyond them, a little more to the east, was a shimmering glow: the great ocean of Galatia.
“Welcome to my home,” Larkel said softly from behind her.
“Your home is beautiful, Larkel,” Starla said, awed by the view around her and a little surprised by the relative modesty of his house, considering his status.
A strange look came over the High Lord's face as she said his name and the compliments of his home seemed to give him a surge of satisfaction.
“Please, come and sit,” he said, indicating towards a silver table and chairs that overlooked the view. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said, feeling nervous again now that he had sat down opposite her.
“I am sorry, Starla,” he said sincerely, without preamble, his eyes locked on hers. “Because I have been foolish and broken your trust, I'd like your permission to use a Verelios Beam.” He chuckled at the look of confusion on her face. “A well-kept secret is that the Verelios Beam works both ways, except that usually the Makhi using it will block their end of the connection. May I?”
“It really isn't necessary. I came here willing to trust.”
That strange look came over his face again. “Please?” He raised his hand to prepare the spell.
Sighing, unsure, Starla held up her right hand in front of his and waited. Once more, the silvery beam of light connected them. This time, his hand remained shrouded too.
“This has an added benefit for us because now you can feel my mind as well as I can feel yours,” he smiled as he felt her presence linking with his. “To prove it works, I am a Harknine Keeper.” Instantly the light around his hand burned red, but more importantly for Starla, she had noticed the slight twinge in his mind, as if it knew the lie and tried to dislodge it. She also caught a flash of a memory of him being presented with the circlet and robes of High Lord.
She looked up at the High Lord and felt the increased nervousness through the bond.
“I am truly sorry for lying,” he said solemnly. “The King did ask me to see that you were comfortably housed and well looked after. He did ask me to extend you an invitation to stay in the City. He also ordered that you be stopped if you tried to leave before we knew your secret. And yes, I am the one he asked to try and get you to share it.”
“He didn't want me in the refugee camp?” Starla asked, remembering the servant's words.
Larkel's eyes widened and then narrowed in disgust as he caught glimpses of her memory. “That woman who spoke to you, Lanteg. She is one of the Baron's followers.”
“That explains a lot.” Starla narrowed her own eyes, seeing a brief memory of Mrs Lanteg standing in a garden, the Baron leading the little meeting. “How did you find out it was her?”
Grimacing, he explained about asking his second to look into the case and what he had discovered.
Starla nodded. “I am also sorry, Larkel. I could have asked differently or—” she shrugged.
“No, Starla. Lanteg was able to get to you because I hid the truth. This is my fault.”
“Will you tell me why?” Through their bond and in his eyes, she felt the chaotic flow of emotions that question caused.
“Will you tell me why you gave back the clips?” he asked, feeling his own chaos suddenly reflected.
“I thought you were trying to—” Starla shook her head, cheeks aflame, fighting to keep her mind from revealing her desire, “the way I was raised, I could never accept a gift like that. She, Lanteg, also said you were trying to make me owe you.”
Larkel grimaced at the implication. She had thought he was trying to buy her secret, or more. And yet now, connected as they were, he saw that in her heart she had never believed he would do that. The real issue had been his intentions. What the gift had meant, symbolically.
Starla watched him carefully, trying to read every detail. She felt his pain again. But also his joy as he saw the truth: that she had never actually believed him capable of the things Lanteg had suggested. Every day she had watched him and been more and more convinced that the servant was wrong.
“I took you to the Shanebury Inn mainly because I liked the irony, but also because I know it to be a good inn, where you'd be well looked after,” he began. “I offered to take you around the City because I got the sense from your memories that Galatia interested you greatly. I took you to Savianna's because her tunics are always acclaimed. I wanted you to feel welcome.”
Starla nodded. His words were true, but there was a hidden emotion behind them.
“But why? You hardly know me.”
He gave her a side-long glance. “Sharing minds like this gives a much deeper insight into a person. Inside your memories, I learned more about you than I'd guess even many of the people back on Earth know. Have you not felt the same sense of understanding?”
Starla nodded. “Yes, I'd say I have a sense of your character akin to if I'd known you for many years.”
Larkel overrode his anxiety. She was still waiting for him to explain it fully. “Let me show you what I saw.”
Silently, Starla watched her own edited memories played back. Even though she recognised them, they were slightly altered, changed and coloured by his perceptions and emotions as he had viewed them.
She gasped softly. The woman in his mind was her, but not in a way she had ever viewed herself. That Starla seemed too perfect. Strong and self-confidant. Kind to a fault and of impeccable character. Intelligent and thoughtful. She felt herself flush crimson as she saw a brief flash of his desire for her.
“See? Why wouldn't I do all that I did for someone like that?” he asked. A roguish smile played at his mouth but his eyes were vulnerable.
“But I am nowhere near that perfect,” Starla protested, trying to squelch the response to his last thought racing in her blood.
“I know,” he said, laughing softly. “But you are a good person. You had been told not to trust me, but when you finally met me, there wasn't a speck of mistrust in your heart. You were going to make up your own mind, regardless of what others said or did.”
Starla just stared, knowing now that she could never crush the feelings fluttering around her belly. She became aware of a fleeting image in his mind that blurred past her and was quickly hidden.
“What was that?” The emotions around it had been strong, but unclear.
He shifted uncomfortably. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”
Resisting the urge to clutch the amulet, Starla nodded.
“So am I forgiven?” he asked, his eyes deep pools of fear and hope.
“Yes. I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”
“Of course. Will you accept the clips now?” he said, rising. He became back-lit by a burning orange sky. The beam between them vanished, along with his presence.
Starla shook her head.
“Why?” there was some undercurrent to the question, but with his presence gone Starla had no way of knowing what caused it.
“I … the way I was raised … it just wouldn't be proper. I hardly know you. I have accepted many gifts from you, already. Perhaps we should spend more time together before I accept any more.” She blushed, but managed to keep her gaze steady.
Larkel smiled, a light sparking in his eyes. “I think you know more about me than most.” He tapped his head. “But fair enough. I still have them. Let me know when you'd consider it appropriate.” His smile broadened at her soft blush. “Now, it is getting late. Would you like to have dinner with me? Get to know me?”
Starla found herself blushing harder. “Dinner would be wonderful.”
***
Starla's heart was still beating overly fast as the door clicked shut behind the High Lord.
Dinner at his favourite restaurant had been wonderful. They had laughed and chatted freely, the past week forgotten.
She looked down at her hand where he had kissed her go
odnight (as she had explained at dinner was customary) and promised to meet her for breakfast the next morning.
Laughing happily, she got ready for bed. Yet sleep eluded her, her excitement now that everything was cleared up coursing through her body like electricity. But the exertions of the day finally won out and she fell asleep, thinking about the week ahead she would spend mostly in Larkel's company with no chores to separate them.
***
Starla woke up panting, her new shift soaked through with sweat, the Star glued to her chest. This nightmare had followed the pattern of all the others but after a week without them, Starla felt shaken by the images she had seen. Those she had left behind had been writhing in extreme pain. Even Pierre had been in this one.
Getting up, she threw the window wide open and let the fresh pre-dawn air invigorate her. She chalked the dream up to all the guilt she was feeling. Guilt over how comfortable and confidant she felt dressed in the Galatian tunics and knowing Father Joe wouldn't approve. Guilt over how she didn't really miss Earth and how Galatia had come to feel more and more like home, its people more and more dear to her. And most of all, guilt over Raoul and knowing how he felt and that she could never love him how he wanted. She knew Raoul would consider them to be betrothed. She felt guilty by her growing tempest of feelings for Larkel while things hadn't yet been put right with Raoul. But was it fair to turn from the High Lord's advances just because she had failed to be clear enough and Raoul had refused to accept that her sisterly love for him would never change?
This past week had gone by in a blur. Most mornings she had spent in the Makhi's main building, looking at the books on magic, looking for any hint of a human family who left as the war began in the travel logs they kept there. There was never anything. Only one human family had been recorded as coming and going. They didn't look anything like the people in the picture her mother had sent, but she would ask Larkel about them today.
Another memory of another book entered her mind. Larkel had asked her to wait in his office yesterday when he was called away. In the corner, a small chest stood open. The books inside looked very old. On the cover of the top one, she had made out the word Soreiaphin. Immediately the Guardians' voices echoed in her head. That is what they thought the Star was, a Soreiaphin amulet. Lua had said her blood had activated the 'key'.
She had pulled the book out, listening for footfalls on the stairs.
Soreiaphin or Starborn are gifted with unique and extremely powerful magic. Unlike other magical beings, their magic does not have a locatable source. It is simply part of their being. Made from the combination of at least two different magical strains. Many Soreiaphin can use their latent magic with guidance or in tandem with one with whom they share a magical strain, but the true power of a Soreiaphin can only be unlocked by their Star, which they will summon to themselves. Each Star becomes an amulet and takes a unique form. Once the amulet touches the skin of its Soreiaphin, it may be touched by no other. The magical bond formed cannot be broken by loss or theft. Engraved on the amulets is a unique key for its activation.
Starla had stopped there, her heart thudding disjointedly. Was Lua right? She seemed able to use magic with Larkel, but he and the Guardians had been unable to locate a source. The Star had seemed to come when she had called. The writing appeared with her blood. Then she continued reading.
These keys will refer to a sacrifice the Soreiaphin must make in order to achieve their full powers.
Words like “light” are common and will be linked to words like “sight”, “birth” and “life.”
Another common motif is the idea of being “transformed” or “made whole”.
Most sacrifices involve the giving up of one of the senses, or reproductive capabilities. Sometimes the sacrifice can be more severe. The death of the Soreiaphin may be required. “Relinquished”, “remade” or other such words usually refer to such a sacrifice. If the Soreiaphin is returned from death, they are usually insubstantial, a creature of pure magic, all they were before burned away.
Starla had snapped the book shut in horror. She grabbed the amulet, fighting the urge to cast it from her. If Lua was right and this was hers, she may have to die for her powers to be activated? Starla only just had enough time to shove the amulet out of sight under her dress and rise from the floor before Larkel re-entered his office.
Starla shied away from the memory. Death was something she had always feared and now that she had the possibility of a future with Larkel, she couldn't think of a worse fate. She turned her mind to different topics as she prepared for the day.
Over the past week, she had been guided in the afternoons around another part of the massive City by Larkel, and sometimes, Makhi Gullit.
The Aurelian Makhi had proved stern and witty, reminding her of Father Joe, even though his appearance was quite different. He always made them laugh and seemed to keep Larkel from being pulled into a dark mood when people in the street scurried off in fear, or whispered behind their hands with hate clear in their eyes. If only for that, she truly loved the old Makhi, just as she loved the old priest.
Thinking of Earth and her life there, Starla was surprised to find she had forgotten her own birthday. Today would have been May 15th, her twenty-first birthday. And she would be spending it with Larkel.
The thought of the High Lord set her excitement flowing again. With no duties in the refugee camp, Starla's mind raced with the possibilities of the day. Taking more time than usual, Starla washed. Choosing the sky-blue tunic for the day, she used the matching ribbon and tied it around her head as an Alice band and left her hair loose, admiring the effect of her soft red-gold curls against the blue of the dress.
***
Through his bedroom window, Larkel watched the sun's light finally reach the sea. He had been awake and ready for more than an hour, unable to sleep for thoughts of Starla and worries over all the things she didn't know. They had grown closer with each day of the week they had spent together. He always felt buoyed by her unrestrained joy at life. He had known her for two weeks, now, and yet it felt like much longer. He remembered her reaction to his flash of desire. She hadn't been repelled. She wanted him, too. The glimpses into her mind gave him a deeper knowledge than he would have had otherwise, and he knew he wouldn't change his mind, even if his heart had been amendable.
And her secret? his mind prodded him.
He pushed the thought away. He was as sure as he could be that Starla had feelings for him, too. He was confident that she would tell him soon, if it was important for him to know.
And the book? Larkel's eyebrows furrowed as he remembered re-entering his office and finding a very guilty-looking Starla beside the chest of Soreiaphin histories. One of the books was open on the floor beside her. He thought again how her magic seemed to fit the pattern.
If she is Soreiaphin then she's not human and our future will be more secure, Larkel told himself sternly.
If she is Soreiaphin, her death may be required to stop this war, his mind retorted.
Taking a deep breath, he shoved the dark thoughts aside. Death was a very rare requirement, usually consuming the Soreiaphin to release powerful magic for a single purpose. Like the magic Ezira had channelled from a Soreiaphin death so that she could create the Sacrileons to maintain the balance Kyron had destroyed. No, if Starla was a Soreiaphin, that would not be her fate.
Watching the dawning light strengthen, he decided he had waited long enough. With hope and excitement, he hurried down the steps and out of his door, trying not to look too eager to see her.
***
Starla grinned like a child on Christmas morning at the knock on her door. They had been meant to meet at a restaurant, but she wouldn't complain over getting to share the walk there too. She all but threw herself at the door and felt her heart fall as Mrs Lanteg made a quick bow and then hurried into the room uninvited.
“Well done, miss. However did you do it?” she enquired, looking pleased as a cat with cream.
“The High Lord. He moved back home yesterday. You must have turned him down enough times for him to realise his efforts were in vain.” Suddenly her smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown. “Oh, but he'll retaliate, he will. He's always been one for vengeance. Listen, deary, if he stops paying your bill here, you're welcome to come and stay with me and my husband. We have a spare bed in the attic.”
Starla fought the urge to roll her eyes. She played her part very well, but now Starla knew who this woman was. “Thank you, Mrs Lanteg, however, I must be leaving now,” she said, shooing the servant out of the room ahead of her.
Leaving the inn and a spluttering Lanteg, Starla followed the directions Larkel had given her to a small corner cafe called The Red Blossom, a lone Makhi trailing unobtrusively behind.
She found him already waiting at a table that had a view over a large lake. They hadn't yet explored this part of the city, Starla's fascination with Galatian trinkets ruling most of the previous week and keeping them firmly in the Market District. This was the Park District. It was a huge expanse of sea-green grass surrounding a glittering lake and an enormous, domed structure half-hidden by the park's wooded walks.
“Good morning, Starla,” Larkel said, rising and kissing her hand lightly.
His touch sent an electrical feeling skittering up her arm.
“Good morning, Larkel,” she bowed, smiling brightly. “Sorry I am late,” she continued, sitting down in the proffered seat. “Mrs Lanteg couldn't wait to tell me that you are no longer staying at the inn and how welcome I am at her house when you stop paying bill.”
Larkel's eyes narrowed in contempt then he shrugged. “Actually, she's right, I am not paying the inn any more. Last night was your last there.”
Starla looked up sharply from the cup of tea the waiter had just delivered. “You're not joking.”
