by J. A. Comley
As Kyron spoke his spell, Starla lunged at him.
She heard Larkel's cry of despair and knew her blade had missed. Deflected by a shield Kyron must have created around himself, once more. She heard other familiar voices cry out in horror and disbelief before the sound of rushing wind drowned them all out.
She was yanked into the sky, a whirlwind of rocks and fire crashing around her. She felt her left shoulder break as a rock collided with her. Her skin began to burn. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to remain silent. She would not scream.
Below her, through the gaps in the flames and stones, even as they burned and broke her, she watched the ground. She saw her grandfather and brother. Niden was holding Kara's still unconscious form. She saw Father Joe watching her with such pain in his eyes that she had to look away. Raoul had one hand extended towards her as if he were about to reach in and save her from the torment.
A rock crushed her right ribs and she nearly lost her battle to remain silent. She felt her ribs pierce her lungs. It would be over soon, now. She could feel herself fading. Holding the broken, useless amulet to her heart, she focused on Larkel, the man she loved, the man she would always love. Her other half.
Within the heart of the flames and the chaos around her, she gained perfect clarity. She realised her fear of death had been foolish. For those she loved, for all of the people below, she would gladly die a thousand times over.
Then her eyes seemed to lose their ability to see and the flames seared deeper into her. Her agony reached new heights and Starla felt her body burst into flame.
Larkel tried to struggle to his feet as Starla was swept into the air. His cry was echoed by those around him, behind him.
Kyron smirked down at him as Larkel failed to rise. He shut his eyes, the sound of crunching bone ripping through his heart.
“No, you will watch this,” the Demilain growled.
The High Lord felt his head being jerked up and his eyes forced open, trained on Starla as she was battered by the storm Kyron had set on her.
“Stop it … stop—” Larkel pleaded as the sound of more bones breaking reached him again. Starla's bones.
“Will you join me now?” Kyron asked in a dangerous whisper.
“No,” Larkel murmured. “No!” he cried louder, tears streaming down his face as Starla was consumed in fire and his heart broke. She had not uttered a sound the whole time. Now, she was dead, and he had nothing.
Kyron stepped back, disgusted. “I have broken you, all of you!” His mauve eyes were still on the sobbing High Lord. “Your last hope has been burned away.”
With a wordless cry of rage, Raoul was running past Larkel, his no-longer glowing sword aimed at the Demilain's chest.
But then the sword was no longer in his hands; the glint in his brown eyes turned from blood-lust to confusion and then finally, fear. Raoul grunted as his own blade ran him through. Blood spouted from his mouth as he collapsed in front of Larkel.
“Foolish Earth creature,” Kyron hissed, tossing the sword aside. “Perhaps the Solar System should be my next stop. It seems an easy place to replenish my drodemions.”
Kyron stepped back and levelled his staff at the survivors, his eyes roving the crowd for the King.
Raoul groaned as Larkel rolled him over. He knew the boy had mere minutes, but he could change that, perhaps.
Using the little power he had left to him, Larkel carefully began to heal the damage, from the inside out. Raoul's eyes fluttered open as Larkel poured the last of his strength into him.
“Thank you,” Raoul mouthed, getting to his knees slowly. The wound was still there, and still deep, but inside, he was made whole again.
Larkel smiled, his vision dimming before he collapsed, face down, defeated.
A tinkling chime echoed from the heavens.
Kyron stepped back deftly, a few more paces away from the crowd as his magmus' fire died.
The stars came into focus and everyone still conscious turned to look at the sky in awe. The chiming sound came again. And again. A melody from the sky. In the inky black, the stars seemed to pulse in time with the sounds. One star seemed to be growing bigger and brighter with every note, falling towards them.
Raoul kept pressure on the wound in his abdomen as he gazed dumbly at the bright, white star that was growing nearer.
Pierre was laughing ecstatically, “Angels never die! Angels never die!”
The fiery white star was so close, now, that its light blotted out the others. The chimes stopped as the pulsating white fire flared out and lit up the city.
As the mortals shielded their eyes, Kyron stumbled back again, eyes wide with disbelief as his hailstorm of spells vanished harmlessly into the white fire.
The light faded enough for those below to see clearly what lay within.
And there was Starla. She was levitating above them, standing there as if the air itself were ground. Her long, red-gold hair was loose and swirled out around her. Upon her head was a circlet of gold. Her dress was sleeveless, made of white and gold fabric threaded through with red flowers that floated and shimmered around her sleek form. Cinching in her slim waist was a black belt of seven stars. Around her neck, the amulet shone, complete again. Its glowing light illuminated her bright, emerald eyes, which fell on Larkel's body.
She waved her right hand and a staff of white wood appeared. Its top was shaped like a calla lilly, seven crystal orbs within it. Each orb held something within its depths. A leaf, a feather, a swirl of water, a breath air, a bit of earth that changed from metal to rock to sand and back again, a blazing ball of fire and the topmost glowed with the brilliant golden light of Starla's spirit, her own unique Soreiaphin magic, paid for with her life.
She waved her staff of the elements and then turned her gaze on the Demilain Destroyer, who was still hurling useless spells at her. Feeling a sort of pity for the pathetic creature, she turned back to Larkel. Her other half.
Larkel felt himself being pulled back from the darkness. Now he was floating. He felt something more. Yes, Starla. She was here, wherever here was. He could feel her. At least, in death, they could be together. He tried to open his eyes, to see her.
Open your eyes, my love, Starla's voice told him as he felt her will strength back into his body, bring it back from death's gate. I need you with me. We will fight him together.
On the ground, Kyron let out a maddened scream, his spells having as little effect on Larkel as they had had on Starla.
Larkel's eyes flew open. He was in the sky above the battlefield, Starla holding his right hand. She was smiling at him. As he took in her new clothes, his magic found hers and he knew she had finally unlocked her unique magic, her power overwhelming. In some small corner of his mind, he also sensed that she had slowed in her ageing. He returned her smile.
Looking away from her shining splendour, he looked down at himself. His white robe was now threaded through with red and lined in gold. His silver belt had become black and he could see through Starla's eyes that his circlet was now golden, a perfect match to hers.
Wave your hand, she commanded, her thought conveying the action perfectly.
He obeyed, holding out his left hand, and a staff appeared. His staff. Exactly the one he had created for himself all those years ago. As his fingers closed around it, he felt warm and whole once more.
I have to make one adjustment, Starla said, looking at his black wood staff.
Slowly, a white vine began to appear on Larkel's staff, growing higher, its leaves unfurling. He could feel its magical strength growing as the vine did.
Before he could ask why, or how, or any of the questions in his head, he felt his full strength return and then continue to grow, far beyond what it had been before. His eyes widened as he felt his magic blend with hers until his was no longer pure Makhi magic. Instead, it was merged with hers.
The High Lord breathed in deeply, his powerful chest swelling with new strength. Ready to end this war, he nodded to Starla.
<
br /> “Your time here is over, Demilain Destroyer.” Starla's voice rang out clear and strong.
Kyron kept retreating, still hurling Curses at them. All his Curses vanished into nothingness as they entered the light that surrounded Starla and Larkel. His power pulsed with rage, his dark, hate-filled eyes locked on Starla.
“Together,” Starla said aloud as Larkel lowered his staff at Kyron when she did.
“You foolish girl! You can't defeat me, Soreiaphin or no!” Kyron spluttered as they took aim with their staves.
The first of their combined spells shattered Kyron's shield. The second brought him, shuddering, to his knees, disbelief etched into his bleeding face.
Starla felt her power flow through her. Its energy moved like a river, going where she directed, doing what she desired. Her staff felt like an extension of her body, providing a focused exit for her spell and also an amplification for it.
Together, the High Lord and Soreiaphin sent a third combined spell at the Demilain.
Kyron screamed, clutching at his chest as he lashed out with his staff, focusing only on Starla this time.
Starla's dress ripped open along her leg as Kyron's spell managed to break through and slice it. Kyron crowed in triumph and began a new, more potent and focused Curse.
Before Larkel could even begin a healing spell, the wound in Starla's thigh was gone, her dress closing seamlessly over the rip. Starla flashed him her dazzling smile. Then, she turned a deadly emerald gaze on Kyron.
She threw him a mocking smile as his next spell failed.
“You cannot beat us, Destroyer,” she said. “Your power diminishes. You have lost.”
Kyron's thoughts raced as another spell tore through him. Disbelief turned to resolve as he realised that he couldn't defeat them. He didn't know how. All Soreiaphin amulets have a weakness, but this one was made without him. He didn't know its weakness. He didn't even know what had triggered its awakening. He snarled up at them as he realised they could indeed end him, that all his power would not be enough to destroy the Starborn and her High Lord if he didn't know how to direct it. With their powers linked, he couldn't even take out the High Lord.
But still, they had one weakness he knew of. One shared by all who didn't see the world the way he did. His thoughts turned black as he summoned every last scrap of his enormous power. There was more than one way to kill someone and he would have the final say.
Starla and Larkel worked as one, weaving the complex spell that would end a Demilain.
“May your terror and destruction never spread elsewhere,” Starla chanted.
“Never again,” Larkel echoed her.
With those words, a golden light bloomed before their staves. The crowd gasped in wonder as the glowing ball hurtled towards Kyron.
That old malicious grin pulled up over Kyron's pointed teeth as he flashed his staff in a circle around him one final time, all of his power rushing through it until the metal splintered like wood and shattered in his hand.
Then, the golden light enveloped him and pain such as he had never experienced seared through him. His screams echoed across the ruined city as his body began to disintegrate from his extremities inwards until nothing was left but a pool of bubbling green blood.
Chapter 28
The Cost of Victory
“It is over. You saved us, my love,” Larkel murmured as they landed on the ground, Kyron's screams fading away with the golden light. Larkel bent to kiss Starla, knowing that they would never be parted now.
But Starla was running from him, terrified sobs ripping out of her throat. His own sobs and cries joined hers as the scene materialized in the moonlight and Kyron's final act was laid bare. Larkel had seen the savage pleasure in Kyron's eyes before the light of the spell had blocked him from view, but he had never imagined this.
All the survivors, of both armies, were flat on the ground. Some ripped to pieces, others maimed and dying fast. The Makhi's coal-black bodies seemed to be disintegrating even as he ran to Starla. The few remaining drodemions seemed to be melting where they lay. Magmi lay writhing in pools of their own purple blood, wings or tails missing from their giant forms.
Moans and cries echoed in the night air, mingling with the more hellish sounds of dying magmi. Ergothan lay whimpering in pain. Somewhere, a baby was crying.
“No, no.”
Starla stood trembling at the heart of the carnage. She raised her staff, her emerald eyes filled with burning tears. Larkel caught up to her and gripped her around the waist, holding out his staff too. Blending their powers again, they raised their staves in unison, sending shafts of silver light across the battlefield into the fallen.
Larkel kept Starla's thoughts calm and ordered. First they had to stop the cursed from crumbling or melting. Then the wounded needed their attention.
“Free the cursed and let them sleep,” Starla chanted, her other hand gripping her amulet. “Heal the wounded and maimed.” She knew there was no need to speak out loud, but it helped her keep her magic focused as panic bubbled in her chest.
Larkel felt her power rise as she linked with her amulet again. His deep voice echoed her words as they poured their power out through their staves, a gentle, silver wave washing over Kyron's destruction.
Larkel's hand tightened around her waist and he drew her closer to him, crushing her to his side.
“Nothing can save the dead, my love,” he whispered, seeing the thought in her head. “They are beyond even your abilities.” His sad smile barely managed to hang on as she turned her tear filled eyes on him.
Starla took a deep breath to still her ravaged heart. How many have we lost?
Larkel kissed the top of her head. In her mind, he tried to ease the anguish that threatened to swallow her whole. Yet even as he reached out to her, he felt her reach out to him, to ease his own pain, to quell his rising panic.
Together, they continued their work. The drodemions that they could save, they left sleeping, sweeping them gently into the dungeons where the rest lay.
The curse around the Makhi was harder to stop.
“I think I can break it,” Larkel said, once the coal bodies had stopped crumbling to dust.
Starla nodded, the lump in her throat making it impossible to talk. Disconnecting her mind from his, she turned her energies to helping the maimed and wounded.
It was heartbreaking work. Many were gone, already. Others died even as she fought desperately to save them. She saved many more than she lost and her spirit lightened a little, but her fear grew with it. The spell she was using only stilled blood-loss and gave the body more strength. To heal them properly, she and Larkel would have to attend each person one by one. And then there were the cursed drodemions. With Kyron gone, how long did she have to save them before his Curse upon them faded and they died? She knew that many had hoped his death would free them, but it hadn't. The Curse was designed to make them follow their master, even into death.
“It will be all right, my love.”
Larkel was standing beside her, his indigo eyes shining with a cautious hope.
Starla glanced at the nearest cursed Makhi. Her skin was still black as midnight.
“I have done what I can,” Larkel said, following her gaze. “I believe they will awaken soon.”
“Starla?” came a weak voice from their right.
“Niden!” Starla rushed to his side. She attended to the three deep slashes across his chest as soon as she knelt down beside him, healing him as naturally as if she had been wielding her power all her life.
“Niden,” Larkel said, smiling and helping the young Prince to sit up.
“What happened?” Niden asked, his voice half choked with horror as he looked around him.
“Kyron's final act,” Starla spat.
Niden's sky-blue eyes filled with tears as he took in the destruction. “What can I do?”
“Search through the bodies,” Larkel began, the authority of High Lord suddenly ringing in his voice. “Starla and I m
ust attend to the wounded one by one because each injury is unique. You can help by marking the dead with one of these.”
A little black bag with bright green drawstrings appeared in Larkel's waiting hand. The small sack pulsed with a white light.
Prince Niden took the bag carefully. He drew in a steadying breath before setting about his grim task, his bright blue eyes dulled by pain.
Larkel watched the young prince leave, amazed again by the strength he held within him. He would be a good King, one day.
“Brother?”
“Naleiya!” cried Larkel, spinning to face her.
Naleiya's returning smile faltered and vanished as she looked beyond her brother.
Their indigo eyes met and both turned dark with anger.
“We have no time to waste,” Naleiya said, taking Larkel's offered hand as she stood up.
“Look!” Starla said as an Aurelian warrior got cautiously to his feet beside her, gingerly fingering the red scar across his abdomen.
They followed her gaze. All around them, white robed figures were rising out of the carnage. Their confused expressions quickly shifting to horror and despair. Many shot worried glances up into the sky, looking for their enemy.
“You did it,” Starla said, a small smile just managing to make an appearance as she met Larkel's gaze.
Opening his mental connection to the Order, Larkel staggered under the new pain flooding in from the minds of the Makhi. Then his burden lightened as Starla took his hand.
Calm yourselves, Makhi! His voice boomed in their heads. Be still, he added as they all responded with questions.
The destruction you see was Kyron's final, desperate act. He is defeated. He waited as the Makhi's thoughts calmed and turned to their duty.
Our victory has exacted a high price, but it needn't be higher yet. Spread out, heal all those that you can. If one is beyond your skill, call a Makhi who can help. Find the alchemist, if he still lives, we will need him to help us save the drodemions who sleep. Go.
