The Lighter That Shone Like A Star (Story of The South)

by Dan Cash

  “No I don’t,” Max replied, simply.

  “You do. How do you expect to learn the magic of Naegis without his aid? You cannot make Joz the enemy, it will only backfire.”

  Max huffed, annoyed at Luc’s infallible logic. He was right, Max accepted that with ease, but Luc was always right and that irked Max more than anything. Luc did not allow emotion to interfere with his opinions and ideas, whereas Max’s volatile state of mind was affecting his every decision.

  “Fine. You’re right, of course. But we need to watch him and find out what he is doing. My friends should all be here, your mother told me that at the Stone Circle, but for some reason Joz is hiding them from me.”

  “Let me take you to the room with the screens,” offered Luc. “Maybe it will help shed some light.”

  Spiral staircase after hallway after guard, Luc led Max, his cloak lapping at his ankles. Wordlessly the pair walked down a stairway lit by dim torches, under the castle and along a dark corridor. The red walls were bare brick, as far as Max could tell, except for the very end of the hallway where a torn tapestry hung.

  “What’s down here?”

  “Nothing. Or, nothing as far as anybody but my father is concerned,” said Luc, lifting the tapestry and locating a small silver key hidden in an unnoticeable pouch on the underside of the fabric.

  The pair made their way back along the corridor until about halfway. Luc lifted a torch from the wall and used the flitting light to locate a tiny keyhole just inches from the concrete floor. He turned the key in the lock and the wall dissolved into an archway, revealing a hidden room.

  “It has taken me years to discover what lay beneath the castle. My father usually wanders the castle with a guard, just like I accompany you, so I have no opportunity to follow him. But a few days ago, while everyone slept, he left his quarters alone. I followed him and inadvertently he led me here,” Luc explained.

  Max entered the room and saw exactly what Luc had described: the walls were adorned with screens (computer or television?) and what appeared to be a control centre stood in the middle of the room.

  A flash of red caught the corner of the Clemari’s eye immediately. He span to his left to see the face he had been longing to see for what felt like a lifetime.

  Sofia.

  He walked up to the screen projecting her face and reached out, as if he could touch her. She was staring intently into the screen, absentmindedly chewing her bottom lip. She looked well, if not worried.

  “She misses you,” Luc stated.

  “Not as much as I miss her,” replied Max. “I don’t understand. Where is she?”

  “I do not know.”

  Max contemplated his girlfriend’s face for a few more moments before turning back to Luc.

  “That’s not how I see you, you know,” he said to a befuddled Luc. “You said before that you accompany me like a guard, but that’s not how I consider you,” explained Max. “I ask for your company because you are my friend, Luc.”

  “That is very kind, Clemari,” his older friend smiled.

  Max sighed. Still Clemari. Not yet Max.

  The room was a hub. It received and sent information, but neither Max nor Luc could figure out what exactly the information was. The monitors clearly showed live images of people – his friends – but they could not deduce how.

  Russell’s face popped up onto the screen below Sofia’s just once. He stared blankly for ten-or-so seconds before disappearing with a resigned expression. Another male face made a brief appearance, and Max would have sworn it belonged to Freddie had he not been sporting glasses and had jet-black hair, but his screen went blank before Max could get a good look.

  Other faces flashed onto the screen, many of which Max could not identify. There was an instant where a dark haired man with slight stubble grinned through the lens and Max would have been sure it was Zaak from Light of the Landing had it not seemed so preposterous. It could have been anyone, really.

  But how? That was the question swimming through Max’s mind.

  ***

  The rest of the week involved intense training sessions. Although they were hard, they were also extremely rewarding. Their sessions had taken them to the forest, where Max had soared into the sky, navigating his way around the dense woods. The tall wall loomed over, but as high as Max flew, he could not see the top nor either end. A never-ending barrier.

  He also learnt to fight. Joz, as weak as he was, played the opponent. Powerful jets of fire and streams of water shot from his wooden staff, while Max countered them all. Fighting fire with water, he had overpowered the Old Clemari time after time.

  (“You must remember, though. I am old and weak; Eimaj may be old but she has power that I will never know.”)

  Astounded my Max’s progress, Luc could not help but sing his praise whenever he achieved something remarkable. The young man had gone from levitating a few inches and falling to his knees, to tearing down trees with a simple hand movement. He could create electricity strong enough to create an electrical storm and produce magic of an inexplicable form to mould invisible barriers that repelled the strongest of Joz’s spells.

  With enough concentration, Max had even managed to render himself completely invisible. Surely with more practice he would be able to turn his clothes invisible, too, and make it so he was untouchable, like a ghost, and pass through walls unseen.

  Telepathy and telekinesis were the only magic with which he struggled. He had no problem conversing without moving his mouth, but the things that Joz was able to do with his mind were incredible. The older man boasted that he could change a person’s ideas, force people to fall in love, unhinge somebody completely by tearing their mind apart.

  It was clear that Joz was becoming infuriated with the younger man’s lack of telepathic abilities, especially as he had excelled in all other aspects.

  By the end of the week, Max felt empowered. He still had a long way to go, he knew that, but he was finally learning who he was. He was the Clemari, king of Naegis – guardian of The South and the most powerful man in the world. But not quite yet.

  During the brief periods of time that he was not training, or visiting Anne-Alicia’s cell only to be told in a rather unpleasant manner to ‘go away’, he was in the hidden room – the room he had named The Hub.

  Luc accompanied him each time, both men trying to make more sense of the mysterious screens. Max had seen all of his friends except Matthew and Anne-Alicia. Sofia and Russell had worryingly ceased to appear, but he had seen each member of Light on the Landing at different points. But none of it made any sense.

  One evening, he and Luc were inspecting the centre of the room, what appeared to be the control panel. There were lots of lights and switches, wires and one large computer screen. No button or wire or switch would turn the computer on. They were at a complete loss.

  No matter how obsessed Max became over The Hub and finding out just what Joz was up to, he could not find any answers. He looked up to his favourite spot – Sofia’s screen. Her absence was a harsh kick in Max’s gut.

  “Max,” said a voice from behind him and Luc. The two men jumped in shock and turned around to see Joz standing in the doorway, propped up by his walking stick.

  “Joz,” Max replied. “Care to explain?” His voice shook as he reminded himself that he was the Clemari now.

  “No,” was his response.

  “Then I demand that you explain.”

  “And what will you do if I refuse? Throw me in a cell?” Joz asked, knowingly.

  “If I have to,” threatened Max.

  “Then good luck. Your staff were once mine, and they remain loyal to me let me assure you. And when the people of Naegis learn of your treason, they will no longer be yours.”

  “You dare threaten your Clemari?” Max challenged.

  Joz smiled, sarcastically. “No, my dear Clemari. I am simply telling you.”

  “Father…” began Luc.

  “No, Luc. This is my fault. I should n
ot have trusted you, even if you are my son. I let you follow me so you would stop nagging me to show you where I was going. Had I even dreamt that you would tell Max then I would have been more careful.” Joz did not sound mad or disappointed, just tired.

  “You’re keeping my friends away from me. Bring them here,” Max ordered, each word lacking more conviction that the last.

  “Max, I do not expect you to understand. Getting you here was a complex operation; I had to have a method of watching over you. This was it. I was obviously tracking your friends as well, and I decided to continue. Now, I suggest you forget what you’ve seen here and go back to bed.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “You will.” And with that, Joz raised his stick and thudded it against the ground.

  Max was prepared, and had much quicker reactions than his elderly predecessor. He pushed Luc aside with his left hand and instinctively raised his right arm to protect himself, a translucent barrier flashing before him. Violet sparks of electricity hit the barrier and Joz stumbled backwards, falling to the ground and hitting his head hard against the solid wall behind him. He was knocked out.

  Max reached down to Luc to help him off the ground.

  “Come on, we’ll carry him to Dorot and say he tripped and fell,” said Max. But as he pulled Luc to his feet, Max felt a sharp pain in the centre of his forehead. He looked towards the archway and saw Joz smirking, his wooden staff clutched tightly in his fist. Darkness swept over his eyes as he fell clumsily to the ground.

  Sofia

  The sound of an unfastening zip awoke Sofia with a start. Rolling over, she could see that Russell was still asleep. She elbowed him hard in the ribs and sat upright as the tent opened and a female face appeared through the gap. Sofia’s heart was pounding. They had been found.

  “It’s illegal to camp in these woods. Come on! Up you get! Scram,” the woman hollered into the tent. Russell had woken up and joined Sofia in a sitting position.

  Sofia opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her throat felt closed over, her entire mouth bone-dry.

  The intruder looked Sofia and Russell up and down, her expression unreadable. “Come with me,” she said eventually. “You two look dreadful.”

  Perhaps it was out of pure despair or their inability to think straight, but a groggy Sofia and Russell packed up their few belongings and followed the thirty-something woman, who was out walking her dog.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon, the moon still visible high in the sky. Walking had become a challenge in itself for Sofia, her knees throbbing and whatever energy she had left rapidly diminishing.

  “I live in that cottage just over there,” their captor or saviour – Sofia could not decide – said.

  When they entered the woman’s rustic home, the scent of breakfast filled their nostrils. The pair slumped on chairs at a rectangular dining table and cradled their heads in their arms, exhausted and hurting all over.

  “Here, drink these,” said the woman, placing two glasses of tepid water next to the two teenagers. They guzzled down the water. The woman fetched them another glassful, and another. Sofia licked her cracked lips, squinted through heavy eyelids and managed a raspy “thank you”.

  “Have you eaten?”

  Sofia shook her head. A few minutes later, the woman gently shook Sofia awake. On the table there was a plate of buttered toast, some cereal and milk, a pot of tea, a jug of coffee, and more water.

  “Help yourselves to whatever you like. Poor sods. How long have you been living like this?”

  “Not sure,” Sofia managed. “Week maybe.”

  The woman shook her head dramatically, “Oh goodness, how terrible!”

  Neither Sofia nor Russell replied; too busy shovelling down some of the food in front of them.

  After they had gorged themselves on toast and cereal, they poured a mug of hot coffee and cradled it between their hands, blowing the warm steam up to their chilly faces.

  “My name’s Phine,” said their saviour (definitely not captor, Sofia had decided).

  “Sofia.”

  “Russell.”

  Phine smiled, a bond of trust had formed between them.

  We should have given fake names.

  “How old are you?” Phine asked, more concerned than curious.

  “Fifteen,” replied Sofia. Maybe the stranger in front of them would be more sympathetic towards them if she did not know that they were already adults. She knew she was right from the pity in Phine’s dazzling blue eyes – or were they purple?

  “You were limping,” it was not a question.

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing, really,” Sofia insisted.

  “I’m a nurse,” said Phine. “Show me.”

  Sofia slowly folded the bottom of her dress to show the nasty wounds on her knees. Russell looked away, the sight of her weeping scabs making him feel nauseated.

  “Ooh that is nasty. But I have exactly what you need in my car. In a few hours it’ll be all cleaned and cured,” promised the nurse.

  “Only a few hours?”

  “Oh yes, we nurses are very good you know. Well, in Hurburt at least. It’d take a good week or two anywhere else.” Phine left the cottage to retrieve the ointment, leaving Russell and Sofia alone.

  For the first time in days, Russell smiled. “You look awful,” he said.

  “Cheek! You look worse. And you reek.” They both laughed, feeling happier just for having eaten.

  “Plan?” Russell wondered.

  “Eat. Drink. Rest. Heal.”

  “So, stay here?”

  “Yeah,” nodded Sofia.

  Sofia could see the argument rapidly forming in Russell’s mind, but she also saw it evaporate just as quickly. How could they even consider leaving this little safe haven while Sofia could barely walk?

  The cream was cool and soothing on Sofia’s broken skin, a moan of relief escaping through her lips.

  “Right, I have to go to work,” Phine started.

  “Oh, okay. Well thank you for helping us,” Russell replied, pushing himself slowly to his feet.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go anywhere! I spoke to Joan, next door, and she’s going to pop in through the day to make sure you’re alright. Now, the bathroom’s upstairs and I seriously suggest you shower and take a bath, towels are in the closet. Help yourselves to food and drink. All I ask is that you don’t do a runner with all my things, not that anything I own is of value anyway.” Her face broke out in a grin, her eyes sparkling. It was contagious, and Sofia and Russell beamed back, offering their eternal gratitude.

  For the rest of the morning, neither of them shifted from the hard, wooden chairs on which they were perched. Moving was far too much effort. Eventually, Sofia decided it was time for a wash. It was not until she stepped in the shower and black water dripped from her body that she realised how filthy she really was.

  Wrapped in a soft grey towel, she ran a bath. Her knee was already getting better, the scab looking clean and healthy. She applied another coat of the cream and waited for the bath to fill.

  When she had bathed herself and finally felt clean again, she found Russell laying across one of the coffee-coloured sofas, playing with his ScribblePad.

  “Nice shower?”

  “Amazing. Now you go, I can smell you from here,” Sofia joked.

  He sauntered out of the room and she jumped on the second, slightly smaller, sofa and charged her own ScribblePad. She scrolled through Scribbler only to see that none of her friends or Freddie had recently scribbled.

  Light on the Landing was still scribbling as always, but even things seemed difficult for them. Every other Scribble was a denial of a rumour or an apology for something that was not their fault.

  Jimmie’s cousin Lynk had apparently joined them on tour. His scribbler consisted mainly of photos of the band, updates of locations they had been a few hours before, and replies to Light on the Landing’s fans who seemed to consider Lynk somewhat
of a sixth member.

  Maybe a couple of weeks ago Sofia would have been one of those fans, but now she only wished that she had never met the band. It all began at their concert, and she wished they had never put on their Pipton gig.

  Russell re-entered the living room around an hour later, looking much more refreshed. They remained in horizontal positions on the sofas all day, watching TV and only moving to get coffee or snacks. At half past four, a key turned in the lock and Phine stepped through the door.

  “Well, you two look a lot better than when I left you! Sofia, how are your knees?”

  Sofia revealed her legs showing that, miraculously, they were completely healed. No scabs, no scars. Completely fixed.

  “Excellent! Did Joan pop in?” she enquired.

  Sofia shook her head.

  “I knew she wouldn’t! Useless she is, that woman. Oh well, at least you’re still here and recovered,” she said, retracting her ScribblePad from her handbag as she entered the kitchen.

  Sofia picked up the remote control from the nest of tables beside her and flicked through the channels. She would never have normally watched the news, but she had been away from civilisation for almost a week now and she wondered if anything big had happened.

  Speaking in a far-too-formal register, the news reporter was wrapping up the day’s events. Typical, she thought. The one day I want to watch it and I miss it.

  She reached for the remote control again, but then something caught her attention. It was her face. One of her old school photos was on the television screen, the word ‘missing’ in big letters.

  “In further news, the two runaways that left Pipton a week ago have still not been found,” the reporter stated. “Sofia Vassallo and Russell Chaney fled their hometown without word to any family or friends. While the parents of these missing teenagers insist that they have nothing to run from, new evidence suggests that Terexian-born Sofia and her close friend Russell are guilty of starting a fire in their school hall during a Light on the Landing concert, seriously injuring several audience members.”