by J. A. Comley
“How—” She shivered, not sure if she actually wanted to know how normal people were turned into those monsters.
“Kyron doesn't have to kill. He has the ability to take over a person's mind and body, forcing them to do his bidding. He takes their life, but twists it rather than extinguishing it. The transformation is excruciating, though brief,” he explained, voice empty of emotion.
He watched her expression carefully and felt anger, not fear, grow in her. He felt the courage within her. She was no damsel in distress. “Do you know how Kyron gains strength?”
“I didn't even know that he could.” Starla admitted, the idea sending a spike of alarm through her. Vaguely, she remembered the Guardians saying something about it, but couldn't quite remember what.
“Death. With every death in every battle, he absorbs the life-force released, strengthening himself. He's a Demilain Destroyer. Since he broke his bond with Ezira, he cannot just suck the life out of everything, but he can and does absorb it when it is released. He also can no longer simply expel an endless wave of magic. It doesn't regenerate like mine does. Whenever he casts a spell, the power he uses is gone forever. He needs death to recover it, but using magic to kill drains more than it recovers, so he prefers to let his minions do the work. He seeds chaos, and with every death, he grows stronger.”
Starla could feel and see the terrible hatred building up inside Larkel. What startled her was that it seemed to be aimed at himself, not the looming figure with hair the colour of fresh blood.
Larkel's eyes lost focus as he continued, his voice hardening. “We tried to quarantine the Drodemions. We wanted to Heal them. They were mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Babies.” His eyes seemed to solidify with hatred. Starla had to swallow her bile.
“The Makhi, they took my work and they realised the awful truth. The Drodemions could not be cured. Not by us. The only magic that could set them right was the magic that had created them. Or a magic so rare it wasn't worth hoping for. No Makhi had the ability to reach into death's realm.”
The image of the chest of books on Soreiaphin flashed through his mind briefly before the dark, painful memories flooded it once more. Starla wanted to shy back from the torturous memories that played in Larkel's mind. So much pain and devastation.
“We tried. The Makhi, the Royal Guard, even the citizens tried to bring all the Drodemions into one place. That's when the first new transformation occurred. The Makhi running tests on one of the captured drodemions discovered the poison they carried. Each drodemion could create more Drodemions.” He felt Starla recoil from the memories in his head. He also felt her determination to hear him through. “My father ordered me away. He didn't want me to be a part of the horror that followed. But I saw everything. Every drodemion was incinerated. All remaining citizens were to be checked by a Makhi, and if any sign of the curse was found, they would be killed too.”
Starla felt sick as the horror played out in his head. Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. Slaughtered. Innocent babies killed before they could transform. She shuddered away mentally, focusing outside their minds for a time, feeling the breeze in her hair, the late afternoon sun on her back.
Starla watched him as he ran a finger along his crescent scar. “When it was all over, there were so many broken families, so many dead. Many of my siblings didn't make it.” His voice filled with loss, his presence seemed to grow hollow. “The remaining Makhi tirelessly searched for a way to combat this if it ever happened again. One day, Makhi Gullit burst into our home while we were having supper. He told my father of the latest discovery. Drodemions were puppets. They would not function if the source of their curse went too far away. Kyron himself would have had to be close.”
Larkel sighed, abruptly rising. Starla struggled to rise with him so the connection wouldn't break. Carefully taking control of the bond away from her, he made it so that they no longer needed to be touching to remain mentally connected. Moving back, he removed his hand from her grasp, ignoring the worry in her emerald eyes and began to pace. He had to get through this.
“A week later, more Drodemions showed up, attacking the Northern Gate. Knowing that Kyron would be nearby, my father ordered them to keep Kyron's attention on the gate. He and an elite team of the most powerful Makhi would try to drive Kyron back. I was part of that team. Even inexperienced at only twenty, my power greatly surpassed any living Makhi.” He stopped, looking at Starla, his eyes fathomless pools. Inside her mind, she felt him reach a decision. “We found Kyron on a small outcrop of stone. He instantly aimed a spell at me, sensing the greatest magical store. I tried to stop him but my father pushed me out of the way, casting a defensive spell. Kyron's spell struck the shield with its full force. It shattered, deflecting some of its force towards me. I got hit,” tears streamed down his cheeks, hands pressed against his scars, “but only by the physical force of the spell, the Curse broke straight through and hit my father.”
Starla took a step toward him, wanting to comfort him, the terrible pain inside him tearing at her too as she lived the memory with him. He moved away from her, eyes hard with anger. Her legs faltered to a stop.
“As my father rose from the ground we saw—”
Starla gasped in horror as Larkel's words turned into a guttural cry. His father had become a drodemion. She could see the image so clearly. She was so deep into his memory that she was there. Every sight, sound, smell and touch. She felt the pain of watching someone so dearly loved decay and then turn on you with death in their blind stare and the sickening scent of burning flesh in the air.
Starla felt nearly crippled by pain and torment as Larkel forced himself to finish.
“The other Makhi tried to fight him, but Kyron controlled him now. All my father's magic was in the hands of the enemy. I watched as he cut down people who had been his friends. Cut down one of his own daughters, my sister. We retreated to the gate, the Makhi screaming for me to end him. I was the only one powerful enough to manage it.” He turned his back on her, hands in fists, trembling by his side. “So I did.”
The words were unnecessary. Starla was there, in his memory. She felt the soul-ripping anguish as he had cast the spell, the mental torment as the monster before him turned back into a man as death released him from the enslavement curse.
She forced her numb legs to move. She felt as if she had been run through with a blade. In his mind, she saw the final act, lived it as he had. She experienced his horror and disbelief as his father killed the very people he had sworn to protect, the unspeakable pain as the spell he cast killed the drodemion High Lord, his father. And then the ordeal as he was tried for murder by negligence, the people baying for his execution, accusing him of murdering their loved ones through his inaction. The King had found him not guilty and later, he was raised to be High Lord. But many of the people never forgave him. They still hated and feared him. They knew it was his research that had concluded that their families couldn't be saved after the first attack. It was his inaction while he had struggled to summon the will to end his father that lost them their loved ones when the wave of black smoke swept through the City and forced the cull that followed. He had also inherited his father's blame for all the deaths with the first Drodemions.
Now, in front of him, Starla knew no words would help ease his guilt and anger. Gently, she reached up and took his face in her hands, her own tears flooding down her cheeks. She entered into his mind as she had done during her trial. She gasped as she saw clearly now how he viewed himself. As a murderer, with livid red scars to remind him everyday of his failure and his loss. At last, she beheld all the shame he had been trying to hide from her. This was the darkness that iced his eyes over, that tempted him to stop feeling. So much pain and self loathing. He had hardened himself so that he could perform his duty.
With a shock, she noticed something else. The spell he had cast over himself in secret. If Kyron ever tried to turn this High Lord, he would fail. Larkel would be consumed by his own magic, denyin
g Kyron both a puppet and a power source.
Larkel opened his eyes, locking them on to Starla's as she entered his mind, her presence soothing his nerves, chasing away the nightmarish scenes. Her light filled the empty void inside him. In that moment, he knew he could never survive being parted from her. She had restored to him a hope and love that he thought Kyron had destroyed. But how could she want to stay, now? He was responsible for his own father's death. And his inaction before that had cost hundreds of innocent people their lives. He may as well have killed them, too. And afterwards, the hundreds more who had been infected with a new wave of the demi-monde Curse. All those people he, as High Lord, had ordered dead. Who could love a murderer? Who would be willing to be tainted by him, to share in the fear and hatred that hounded him through the City streets?
The grim darkness tried to blot out her light, but her presence seemed to swell, banishing it.
That may be how you see yourself, but this is what I see.
He felt her fumble as she tried to mimic what he had done the first time she had visited his home. She found the way. Hesitantly, she replayed his memories from her perspective, changed by her feelings and perceptions
Larkel's eyes widened. In her mind, he was anything but evil. He had been forced into a terrible situation by a creature with no soul. Kyron was the recipient of all her anger. The people who had hated him, those who hate him still, received her sympathy for their losses. She hoped that they could see past their grief, in time. In her mind, he had an inner strength unsurpassed by anyone. He was kind and gentle. He was the man she loved. He was the one thing she refused to live without. As the memories faded, she moved out of his mind. Her last gift was a measure of her love for him, a perfect reflection of his for her. He knew she could sense it through the bond. They remained like that, holding each other, for a long moment, watching the sun setting behind the sea.
“Starla,” he murmured, bending to kiss her, “thank you.”
Starla abandoned herself to his kiss, feeling his strong arms mould her body to his, feeling the fire erupt in her body again, setting her heart alight.
Together, they left the darkened clearing and entered his house. Slowly, he led her to his bedroom and shut the door, kissing her again, more passionately this time as the electricity between them peaked.
Stepping back a little, he locked eyes with her. They held a solemn, unspoken question. In answer, she reached up and kissed him again.
Gently, he slid off the straps of her tunic. She undid his robe, letting it drop to the floor. Her hands trailed over the strong muscles of his chest, where more scars erupted from a darker red one above his heart. In that moment, Starla knew that she could never leave Galatia now. She would never want to. Her place was right here, beside this man.
***
Starla wrapped the High Lord's old induction robe around her. Made for him at the age of twelve, it fit her reasonably well, even if it did only come half way down her thighs. She looked at herself in a mirror that was a replica of the one he had made appear at the inn on that first day and smiled at the look of utter happiness in her eyes.
She had awoken here earlier this morning, in bed beside him. The passion of the night before was made all the sweeter by the gentle lingering love they had shared this morning after she had woken from another nightmare of her Earth family being tortured. Now, he was down in the kitchen. Smiling and feeling more than a little giddy, Starla half danced down the stairs.
The High Lord caught her in his arms as she reached the bottom.
“Good morning,” he smiled, kissing her deeply.
“Good morning,” she said, returning the kiss.
“Go and sit. Breakfast is nearly ready.”
She walked over to the sofa and sat down. Leaning back, Starla watched Larkel appreciatively. He was naked from the waist up, wearing only his navy-blue cotton trousers, usually mostly hidden by his robe.
She played the memory of last night and this morning again, relishing in the remembered sensations. The muscles in his arms and chest tensed and relaxed as he laid the tray of fruit, nuts and yoghurt on the small table.
“I need to tell you something that my Makhi discovered,” he began, handing her a steaming mug of gwenolik, a bitter, stimulating drink. “It appears that Gaby never left Galatia.” He paused as her eyes widened. “If you want to leave—”
He locked eyes with her, as if he could make her stay by sheer willpower.
Starla laughed softly, leaned over and kissed him gently. “I don't want to leave. But I would like to speak to her. Find out about Aimee and—” She trailed off, thinking of the Star, still hidden in the hem of her purple tunic upstairs.
Larkel sighed. “We already tried to make contact with her, but it was like she always knew before we got to her. Now, she's vanished, dropped off our grid. I'm sure she'll pop up again,” he added encouragingly as Starla's smile fell away.
“It's not that. I was thinking about the future.” She looked up at him again. “Do you think Markis would be willing to help?”
“Perhaps,” Larkel said, shaking his head. “But, if he gave you the elixir, you'd live forever, as far we know. I won't. And before you ask, it doesn't work on Galatians.” He took her hands, looking serious. “I still don't understand how you could be human. I still have your baby bracelet. I was going to take it to the manufacturer. Do you want me to? It might answer a few questions.”
Starla snuggled up against him. “Yes. Answers. Why I wanted to come here in the first place.”
His eyes grew intense as he pulled her closer. Their lips were millimetres apart when the door swung open.
Through it strode an elegant woman of graceful movements, her auburn hair shimmering in the early morning light coming through the open door.
“Naleiya!” exclaimed the High Lord, jumping to his feet. “When … what are you doing here?”
Naleiya's glittering eyes narrowed as they took Starla in, her arms folded beneath her full breasts, before looking up at the High Lord, who stepped between them and wrapped her in a long, familiar hug.
“I've missed you,” she purred, in a voice like velvet.
Starla was certain that her heart had stopped beating when she spotted the golden band shining on the woman's ring finger.
Chapter 11
The Trimoon Festival
Shock and confusion rose up in Starla and were threatening to break her fragile composure when Larkel finally turned back to her. Larkel let go of Naleiya's hand quickly, caught off guard by the hurt expression on Starla's face.
“You're married?” Starla breathed, emerald eyes hardening.
“Yes,” Naleiya said, just as the High Lord said, “No.”
“No, no,” he continued quickly, half-raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, Naleiya is married, but I'm not. She—” Facing Starla full on, he let a little hurt show in his eyes too, “she's my elder sister, Starla.”
As he said that, Starla realised that the woman's eyes, now shining with quiet amusement, were exactly the same shade of indigo as his. Her lips formed a similar half-curve as she smiled apologetically.
“I'm so sorry. It's nice to meet you, Makhi Naleiya.” Starla managed, feeling herself blush scarlet.
Larkel took her hand and opened their bond. Wasting no time, Starla quickly apologised for jumping to conclusions. His presence was full of love and understanding and more than a little amusement. Starla stifled a groan as he showed her her own face from his memory. She looked like a petulant child, ready to rant and rave.
“Sorry to interrupt … again,” Naleiya said, her velvety voice clearly amused as her eyes quickly marked out her brother's bare chest and Starla's borrowed robe.
Starla blushed burgundy and nailed her eyes to the floor. Larkel's sister, being a Makhi, knew well how to spot the signs of a silent conversation.
“Sorry, sis,” Larkel smiled sheepishly. “Although, in all fairness, you didn't tell me you were coming. You didn't even knock.” His
indigo eyes narrowing in mock anger.
“Well, I arrived back and assumed my High Lord would be at the tower awaiting my report. I had a flustered Redkin telling me that you'd been spending a lot of time over at the Rothers'. And I get there only to hear you've disappeared somewhere with some off-world lady I have never met.” Her tone clearly showed that it was this last part she was most upset about.
Larkel barked a laugh. “Okay, okay, Naleiya, I take your point. I would like you to meet Starla.”
Naleiya smiled brightly at Starla. “It is very nice to meet you. I am sorry for just barging in like this but, my dear baby brother, do you not remember what day it is, today?”
“Day?” Larkel said, wrapping his arm around Starla's waist. “Trimoon!”
Naleiya laughed. “If the other Makhi ever found out how easily their all powerful High Lord loses his focus there'd be mutiny.”
Larkel scowled at her and leaned over to get a look at the clock on his kitchen wall. Nearly seven.
“I'm sorry, Starla,” he said, hurrying upstairs, towing her behind him. “Today is the Trimoon Festival. It is our New Year, here,” he said, tugging a robe out of his wardrobe as they entered his room.
“Why is it called Trimoon?” Starla wondered out loud, deciding to follow suit and get dressed, too.
Larkel stared at her for a moment before the purple tunic slid down, covering her body.
Pulling his thoughts back together, he continued, “Tonight is the night of the full moons. One of our three moons is full every month, but once a year all are three full together. It causes the seas of Galatia to glow, and our glass buildings here at the capitol are enhanced by it, too.”
Starla nodded, fastening her belt, and discreetly checking that the Star was still there in the hem as she slipped on her shoes.
“I have to leave, now,” Larkel continued, opening the bedroom door, but drawing her to him, longingly. “I have to hold a meeting at the Palace, where we will run over the plans for the evening one final time, what I will be doing with my Makhi, what Commander D'Ordeley will do with her guards, that sort of thing.”
