The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1)

by Malcolm Schmitz

  He’d never felt so alone. Now, when he most needed Heaven to touch his life, he felt utterly forsaken. He was a sinner, unworthy to speak God’s name, he knew, but what he wouldn’t have given for just a word whispered in his ear.

  "Oi!"

  Christian looked up. Maybe God had answered him after all.

  "Miriet?" he whispered.

  What he had thought was a patch of the floor twitched and shimmered. Miriet grinned triumphantly up at him, her scales the soft purple of a streak in the sunset.

  There was something in her wide, toothy mouth-a small, blue ball, about the size of a sling stone. She spat it at his feet and looked up.

  "You might want to, uh, stand back," she said.

  Christian took a tentative step backwards, hand where his scabbard should be.

  Miriet inserted two claws into a set of small holes in the sides of the ball. It twitched, and shook like an egg hatching. A blue glow shone through the holes. The ball opened from the sides, as if it was a hinged box.

  A pile that was far too large to have fit inside the ball spilled out. Christian spotted something that looked like a suit of clothes, and a long staff that he could use as a walking stick.

  "How did you fit all that in there?" Christian's eyes widened. "Is it... magic?"

  "No, it's science. It's a nanocapsule. Quantum-locked." Miriet's whiskers twitched. "I'd explain how it works but we don't really have time. First things first, get that on."

  She nodded at the strange suit that had been inside the capsule. It was a little softer than the demons' armor, but it glinted with the same strange blue tinge. It was made to cover one's entire body-including, Christian noted with unease, the face and hands. A strange black apparatus hung from the face.

  "Containment suit, you'll need it to handle the atmosphere." Miriet's tail twitched from side to side. "Get that on now."

  "Why? It looks... strange." Christian held it up. While it looked less clumsy than armor, he doubted he could fight properly in it. It'd restrict his range of motion even more than a full suit of armor.

  "The air here isn't oxygenated." Miriet's voice sounded more annoyed than Christian thought necessary.

  “Come again?”

  “Do you want to choke to death?” Miriet's nostrils flared, and her back arched like a cat's.

  “No?” Christian's eyes narrowed. Was she threatening him?

  “Then you're gonna need to wear the damn suit.”

  "Pray don't treat me like a fool." His jaw clenched, and he could feel his grip on the suit tightening. It stretched beneath his fingers.

  "You're asking me to explain things to you when you've got a fourth-century knowledge of science." Miriet's voice was definitely peeved now, and her tail hit the floor with a thunk. "Can you work with me here?"

  Christian's nostrils flared but he decided this wasn't worth arguing. Everyone knew demons lied, but he didn't want to risk his life to dark magic. It wouldn't be a noble way to die. He clumsily put the suit on. It opened at the back; he stepped into it, and it sealed behind him.

  The suit muffled all his senses. His hands were encased in thick gloves, their texture like the flesh of a squid. A hard, almost glassy visor covered his eyes, dulling the colors of everything. A loud, raspy noise mirrored every breath he took.

  The sheer foreignness of the suit and all its trappings repulsed him. He hoped he could rescue the others soon, if only so that he could remove it.

  "Did you get a weapon?" Christian asked. He frowned, looking at the pile. There was a long metal staff, and a number of small cards, each about the size of a playing card.

  "There." Miriet gestured towards the pole with one foreleg. Just his luck...

  "Miss Tekari, with all due respect... That's not a weapon." He frowned. It wasn't an honorable weapon, and it wasn't one he knew how to use, not properly. Why couldn't she have found his sword?

  "Of course it is." Her whiskers twitched. "I picked it out just for you. Since, you know, your culture's still at the place where you hit things with bits of metal."

  "Miss-" Christian began. He didn't quite understand what she was saying, but he didn't like her tone. If she hadn't been a demon, or female, and if he had had his sword, he would have challenged her for a breach of his honor.

  "Push the button." She sounded truly frustrated now, as if speaking to a willful child. Christian hated being spoken to in this way, he always had, and his hackles were starting to raise. He wasn't being unreasonable, damn it.

  He turned the pole over in his hands. There was a slight indent at the level of his thumb, and a set of raised notches at one of the pole's ends. When he pushed his thumb against the indent, the notches glowed, red, then orange, then white. Heat radiated from them. He could feel it, even through the accursed suit.

  "What is this?"

  "A big, hot piece of metal." Miriet's tail was twitching like a cat's now. "Is it bash-y enough for you, Sir Knight?"

  Christian ignored her sarcasm. He turned the pole over in his hands, and then struck out at the wall.

  The balance was wrong, and it threw him off. He wound up hitting a spot slightly to the right of where he'd meant to hit. While play-fighting against the wall, that wasn't a problem, but in a real battle, it could mean the difference between a blow and a near miss.

  Christian noticed that the white paint on the wall had boiled away, and the steel wall had melted around its tip. He smiled with grim satisfaction. It could take him years to properly master this staff, but once he had, he'd have a weapon more powerful than any he'd ever seen.

  "It will serve," he said.

  "Great." Miriet arched her back, almost like a cat. "Can we go now?"

  "All right, all right." Christian frowned. "...Are you warded against that spell?"

  "Spell?" She snuffled again.

  "The one that makes you … drown in air."

  The lizard's nostrils flared, and a burst of strange noises Christian couldn't really understand spilled from her lips. He picked out a few words amidst the clicking. They sounded sounded guttural and quite unladylike.

  "Tark- I completely forgot. Little gods blast it to-"

  Miriet took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

  "There's two ways this can go, right."

  "What are those?" Christian frowned.

  "Either I go through the vents, or you let me in under your suit. Which is it gonna be?"

  "... You can use the suit too." Christian didn't want to lose her knowledge of the other demons, even if it meant having her in a small, enclosed space with him.

  The suit had been difficult to get on; it was even more difficult to get off. His fingers felt clumsy and dull, as stiff as they did when he was in armor. Worse, he didn't have Edmund to help him.

  He finally removed it, and Miriet leaped onto his back, sharp claws digging through his doublet and his underdoublet. Christian winced. He could feel his back tensing, and he glared back at her.

  "Sorry..." Miriet said. Her musical voice was right in his ear, and her whiskers tickled his cheek. "Get the suit back on and we can go."

  It seemed to take forever to get it back on, especially with the little dragon muttering advice in his ear. Christian gritted his teeth and followed her orders.

  Finally, he stood, enshrouded by the rubbery blue cloth, holding the staff firmly in one hand. It was a little like a lance, but he didn't feel like he was going to a tournament. He felt like he was going to war, and he swallowed, hard, mentally repeating a prayer.

  "Now what?" he whispered to his guide.

  "I thought you'd never ask." Her voice made Christian feel all too small again. "Do you see the cards?"

  "Yes." He tried to keep his voice under control and not betray the anger he felt.

  "Pick them up. Then put the yellow one into the slot in the wall, there." She turned his head with one claw, leaving a sharp point of pain on his cheek. "Make sure the black strip's facing down."

  Christian did as he was told, and walke
d towards the slot. He looked at the card for a moment. It was of some strange hard material that was as stiff and brittle as bone, but oddly glossy. The black strip she'd mentioned was on the back; it looked like a line of paint.

  He slid it into the hole, and a door opened in the wall.

  Miriet yipped with excitement. She sounded like one of Cadia telle Severn's abominable little dogs. Her voice was shrill and piercing, and her mouth was right by his ear. Christian winced.

  "Could you not do that?" he said, through gritted teeth.

  "Oh. Sorry." Miriet's voice sounded apologetic, and he tried to forgive her. "But-it worked!"

  Chapter Six

  The door exposed a long, tube-shaped hallway. The walls were made of bronze-colored metal, and so was the floor. It was like walking through the hilt of a sword. Every one of Christian's footfalls sounded like a thunderclap.

  "The exit's this way." Miriet turned his head. "Just keep going left. If you can make it to the big round door, you'll be fine."

  "Big round..." Christian frowned.

  Miriet's whiskers twitched; he felt them tickle his cheek.

  "The big, round door. You'll know it when you see it."

  "That was extremely unhelpful, Miss Tekari." He kept both hands on his weapon, holding a little gingerly. The sides of the staff glowed white-hot, and it left shimmering heat waves in the air as it moved.

  "Sorry. Can't help it that you're stuck in the Stone Age." Miriet chittered, angrily. "Just keep walking."

  Christian saw one of the monsters turning round the corner. He assumed it was one of the creatures that had invaded the castle, though it looked even uglier with its suit off. Its skin was gray and rubbery, and wrinkled like a goblin's. Its nose was long and hooked, and its back hunched as it walked, looking for all the world like a hideous ape.

  He flattened himself against the wall.

  "Let me do the talking," Miriet whispered in his ear.

  "Talking? To demons?" Christian muttered back. "There's no way to trick them-"

  "Soreks aren't that bright." Miriet sounded dismissive. "I can out-talk one, just trust me."

  Christian scowled. He had to believe her; she'd been right about everything else. But she was a demon, even if she acted more human than the ones who'd invaded the Palace. He couldn't trust her even if she was telling the truth-a maddening situation.

  He felt the skin beneath his eye twitch.

  "...All right," he said, through gritted teeth.

  "Just let me recalibrate the translator...." Miriet murmured. He heard a click from behind his ear, and a burst of static.

  The demon spotted them as soon as they came around the corner. It marched towards them, raising its weapon.

  "Halt. State your name, rank, and intention," it said. Its voice sounded as artificial as Miriet's, but the demon's was low and masculine. Its yellow eyes seemed to bore through Christian. He could feel himself tensing, and forced himself to relax; he didn't want to get in the way of Miriet's lies.

  "Must a servant of the Sun state the road on which she walks?" Miriet said, from behind his ear.

  Her voice had changed.

  It was a little deeper, colder, and more malevolent. It sent shivers running down Christian's spine. Had he been wrong to trust her?

  The demon bowed low.

  "N-no, milady. Apologies. I just. There's an escaped prisoner." It was groveling now.

  "The Sun will see to it that he is captured and destroyed," Miriet said.

  "Of course, milady. But I still need to see your ID. No disrespect, just. Regulations."

  "....Well, it almost worked..." Miriet's tail twitched and she gnashed her fangs together. "Christian?"

  Christian lashed out with his staff. He hadn't trained to fight with staves, so his strike wasn't quite on center like a sword-stroke or a lance-blow would have been.

  He managed to land a glancing blow on the creature's side. The burning tip blackened the creature's unholy flesh. It howled in pain as a penny-sized lump of flesh was singed away.

  Christian ran, the staff swinging in his hand. He heard someone running behind him. The creature was there, with one of its strange weapons pointed at him.

  "Miriet, do something," he growled.

  "Like what?!" Her voice was still cold and deep, but there was an edge of sheer panic. Her fear unnerved him more than any of her sorcerous tricks.

  "I don't know! You're the demon, you figure it out!" The creature was gaining on him, and he raised his staff for another attack.

  "Well, I don't know either!"

  The bolt of energy whizzed past him. It struck the wall, barely an inch away from his helm. He could smell the scent of burned air, even through the suit.

  Christian readied his staff for another blow. The creature charged at him, firing again.

  He lashed out with the staff and struck true, hitting the monster squarely in the chest. It was as though God's own hand had guided the blow, but God had nothing to do with what followed.

  The monster screamed as its flesh burned away. It stank, and its cries sounded like the tortured criminals in the Palace dungeon. It collapsed to the ground, face white with pain, body twisting into a contorted heap of dead flesh.

  Christian crossed himself. The smell seeped through the suit, and he gagged. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  Miriet retched, and vomited on his shoulder. He winced-dragon bile smelled vile-but managed to stay steady.

  "...God have mercy..." he murmured. He'd killed before, but not like this. Never like this.

  "Kora taal..." Miriet shuddered, her claws piercing his underdoublet and jabbing his shoulder. He could feel blood welling from where she'd pierced him. "Let's get out of here."

  Christian didn't need to be told twice. He ran with all the strength he could muster, though he was growing weary. It had been a very long, strange day, and his flesh was growing weak.

  He could hear the demons approaching, and he redoubled his efforts, running as fast as he could down the corridor. He could see the big round door Miriet spoke of in the distance, though the only reason he knew it was a door was that it had one of those key-slots beside it.

  The demons were closing in on him now. Their strange wands were raised, though they weren't firing yet. He tried to make himself less of an easy target, moving as quickly as he could.

  Christian shoved the card in the slot.

  The wind tore at Christian, rushing in his ears. The door opened onto empty sky, broken by small clouds. He could barely see the ground below-it was a faint, green smear-and he felt his head spinning. He felt that if he leaned a little too far forward he'd plummet to his death.

  "Miriet..." he said, voice shaking.

  "Right. Change of plans." Her claws dug into his shoulder. "Pull the tarking card out and get out of here."

  He did as he was told. The card came out of the slot with an audible 'beep', and he ran again, as quickly as he could. He could hear the demons behind him. Even though he didn't speak their language, he knew they were shouting and cursing as only soldiers could.

  "Where are we going?" he asked, grip tightening on the staff.

  "Um..." Miriet began.

  "That's not encouraging, Tekari!" Christian felt terror boiling in his gut.

  "Okay, you see those stairs?" She tried to turn his head to one side. "Go up there."

  He ran, as he was told.

  "What's up there? More deathtraps?"

  "No, that's where they keep the flyers."

  "The what?"

  "Just go, I'll explain later."

  Christian scowled, but started up the stairs. At least this was encouraging; if he had to fight again, he'd have the high ground. A good opponent's style could cancel out that advantage, though, so he'd have to be careful.

  The stairs weren't as steep as the ones in the castle, but they were made of metal, and his footsteps sounded like a hammer on an anvil. His breath caught each time the sound rang out. They spiraled up along a wall; as he turned
the corner, the demons dropped from his sight.

  "Please tell me we're almost there..." Christian said.

  "It's just up the stairs to the right." Miriet tried to turn his head in the right direction. "Come on, you're almost there."

  He could hear the demons coming up the stairs behind him. He tried to run faster, but he barely felt like he was moving. This was like something from a nightmare.

  At the top of the stairs, a long hallway stretched as far as Christian could see. It was lined with doors-the kind that slid open, that you'd need a keycard to unlock.

  "Which one?" he asked.

  "Down at the end, there. There's a password, and you'll need to use the keycard." Miriet sounded nervous.

  "They've got a clean shot." Christian kept running, but fear boiled in his guts. "I'll never make it in time."

  "Well, not if you don't run."

  One of the demons fired, and a dart sped past Christian's ear. He ducked to avoid it. The end of the hallway was very close, but he was out of breath and growing tired.

  "There's the door, what's the password-" he gasped.

  "One-zero-nine-one, I think."

  "You think?!" He typed it in, with clumsy fingers.

  The door slid open, revealing a pitch-black room.

  "Run!" Miriet clawed his shoulder again, like a knight spurring his horse.

  He ran. The door closed behind him, and he was suddenly alone in the darkness.

  A light in the wall flicked on, and then another. Christian stared in awe as a room the size of the Palace's Great Hall revealed itself, one light at a time. Rows and rows of gleaming, strange engines stretches from wall to wall.

  Miriet seemed unimpressed.

  "You've got about five minutes. Pick a flyer and get on it."

  Christian moved towards a silver machine, shaped almost like a swan, with a large red sail coming from its back. It had a thing like a saddle. He could understand that, at least; he sat on it. It was... a flying machine? That couldn't be right, but he didn't have time to argue with her.

  "How do I..." he began.

  "You see the handles?" Miriet pointed. "Get on the platform, hold the handles."