The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1)

by Malcolm Schmitz

  He'd have to try, of course. He wasn't going to leave his men to be slaughtered. But he felt weak and shaky, never a good sign.

  "Where's Sar-the captain?" he asked. "And... the Solari, are they-"

  "Just rest." Daniel's voice was soothing, but there was an edge of nervousness to it. "I don't know what you were thinking, but you got hurt. You shouldn't be moving."

  Christian groaned. He hadn't tried to duel Mercadier, he'd been attacked without provocation. But, of course, Christian was chary of his honor, and Mercadier was a liar.

  "I need to talk to her," he insisted. He got to his feet.

  He felt dizzy and weak, and his legs were shaking. He sat down heavily. God's teeth, this was bad.

  "She's making the final preparations." Daniel walked to Christian's bedside. "If you want, I can bring you to her. But I doubt she'll be pleased."

  "She wouldn't be, no." Christian tried to stand once again. "I need to see her, though. It's...."

  For a moment, he couldn't remember what he was going to say. His head was swimming badly, and words failed him.

  “It's... important,” he finally mumbled.

  "Well, all right." Daniel offered him a shoulder to lean on. "I think she's talking to the caravan master now."

  Christian took his help, grudgingly. Damn, he hated feeling so weak and useless. But he couldn't do much without help at the moment, and so he'd take the help he needed.

  Daniel led him outside, through the camp. It seemed more like the soldiers' camps that Christian remembered from the war than the Dhareg camp he'd been traveling with for weeks now.

  Everyone around him, Aviganan or Dhareg, was busy. People were moving to and fro, gathering equipment and sharpening swords. A few boys were shouting as they sparred, and of course, people were talking, but it seemed almost quiet. It was the calm before the storm.

  He winced as he turned his head to look. Every movement hurt. It was as if his bones had been turned to lead and his head had been transmuted into pure pain itself. But he had to keep moving. There was no way he was going to leave the others to fight alone.

  "Sara?" he called.

  She turned. As she saw him, she scowled, marching towards him.

  "Christian, what the devil are you doing?! You're supposed to be resting."

  She glared at Daniel, as well.

  "Daniel, why isn't he resting."

  "He said he needed to see you." Daniel spoke soothingly, trying to calm her.

  "Idiot." Sara shook her head, slowly. "I cannot believe the way you're acting. You start a duel, nearly get yourself killed, and now-"

  "Milady, I didn't-" It was hopeless, and he knew it.

  "Even though I'm injured, I'd still like to help with the battle," he added, quietly.

  "You want to be on the front lines and get yourself killed, more like." Sara's eyes narrowed. "I'm not letting you die because you want to be a hero."

  "That's what I was coming to ask," he said, trying to be gentle with her. "Is there anything I can do to help? I'll... I'll do anything."

  "...Christian, you need to get back in the medical tent." She frowned. "If you insist on getting yourself killed, though, you can go with Binij to the hill, up there."

  "The hill?" It took Christian a moment to remember the plan they'd made. "You mean... the one with-"

  "The boulder, yes." Sara gestured. "You and Binij will push the rock down, when I give the signal. All right?"

  He watched as Binij, a young Dhareg boy, approached. His scarf was green, and he watched them with wary curiosity.

  Christian nodded, and felt a dull throb of pain in his head.

  "Of course." He began to move. "What is the signal? Remind me again?"

  "Three notes on the trumpet."

  "We have one of those?" Christian laughed. He thought he sounded a bit drunk.

  "It's a goat horn. Use what you've got on hand."

  Sara glanced down, towards the floor of the rift. "They're almost upon us. Get up there while you still can."

  "Yes, ma'am." Christian nodded, and glanced at Daniel. "If you can find my staff... give it to her?"

  "Of course."

  Sara seemed pleasantly surprised.

  "You're giving me your staff?"

  "Only for the battle. ...If I can't fight, it makes no sense for me to hold onto it. You'd put it to better use."

  She nodded. "It's appreciated. Thank you."

  Christian said his farewells, and, with the help of Binij, moved up the path, towards the top of the Rift. His head swam, and he had to hold the boy's shoulder for support. The climb was steep, and he had to stop to catch his breath, more than once.

  From the top of the ridge, he could see almost everything.

  The canyon was long and narrow, widening at the back. It was, so they said, easy to defend.

  Just being here was enough to make his mouth go dry and his heart race. His shoulders hunched up around him like a cape.

  He tried to stay calm. He tried to remember what was at stake here, but that just made his heart beat like a drum.

  "Was that-" Binij began.

  "No." Christian hated waiting for others to do the important work. He felt unmanned, and-worse- unnecessary.

  All he could do was wait.

  The roar and crash of the battle drifted up from below. He heard the shouts of the caravan men and Sara's crew, and the strange beeps and howls of the Solari's weapons.

  His vision was failing him-his sight blurred and flickered, and the soldiers at the foot of the rift looked like fighting ants. But as far as he could tell, his side was losing.

  On one side, he saw Sara's men falling around her. On the other, the men of the caravan were being pushed back. It was like watching the Siege of the Great Rift from the sky, and being near-powerless to change its course.

  Christian prayed to every Saint he could think of to intercede for their men. His heart grew weak within him. Had the herald already been killed?

  "Maybe we should-" the boy began.

  "No. We wait for the signal."

  Christian watched, hands clenched into shaking fists. He couldn't stand to look; he couldn't stand to look away.

  Finally he heard the three notes of the trumpet. It was unmistakably the signal, though the horn sounded like nothing he'd ever heard. It was deep and hollow, and reverberated like a ringing bell.

  He pulled Ariador from his belt, sliced through the ropes, and let the rock fall.

  Chapter TwentyOne

  The roar that came up from the battlefield was heartening. The humans had struck a blow.

  Christian's hands were shaking, though, worse than ever, and he dropped Ariador to the ground. He was almost grateful to Mercadier for injuring him. After all, if he was on the battlefield now...

  That thought made his knees weak, and he sat down, heavily. God's eyes, he never wanted to go to war again. He was glad to fight when he could see his opponent, but even being this close to a battle made his soul shake within him.

  A loud, high screech cut the air. The ants on the battlefield ceased their movements. The Solari were... were they retreating?

  Binij had his ears covered.

  “What's happening?” he shouted.

  “I have no idea-” Christian began.

  A voice cut through his words.

  "You've done well."

  The voice was clear, a little inhuman, and strangely modulated. Just like Miriet's, Christian thought, but it was a man's voice, slow and deliberate. His mind whirled.

  "Who is your commander?" the voice continued. “I wish to speak with him.”

  "I am!"

  For the second time this day, the words left Christian's mouth without his mind having any part in them. He knew Sara was gazing at him with disapproval.

  His hands shook, and his heart leaped into his mouth, but he squared his shoulders and tried to get to his feet. He was going to take the consequences for what he'd done.

  He stood, and gestured at himself.
/>   "I am Risaldar-major Tattenai,” the voice said. “I'll come up and talk to you."

  Christian tried to pull himself upright, and waited for the voice to reveal itself.

  The creature that approached him was strange, even less human than the other Solari he'd seen. It looked rather like a giant spider, with long, knobby, gray limbs, and three eyes. A glowing, blue wheel-shape, the size of an egg, hung from its neck by a chain-the symbol, Christian guessed, of a Solari commander.

  As far as he could tell, it wasn't going to attack him, but he didn't trust it.

  "What do you want of me?" he asked.

  "You've done well, Mister-" it began.

  "Lord Arundel."

  Christian had no official title. His men-and really, they weren't even his, they were Sara's men-were more mob than army. But he wasn't going to be spoken to like a commoner; not in this moment, and not by the creature who'd stolen him from his home. Even if he was going to die for it, he'd defend his honor.

  "Lord Arundel," Tattenai agreed. "Your men have fought bravely. You seem like a man of valor, yourself."

  "Thank you." Christian frowned. His head was still swimming, and he didn't know how long he could continue to speak clearly. He prayed that he would keep his dignity in these few moments.

  "It would be a shame to spill the blood of so many honorable men, wouldn't it?" The Solari commander leaned forward, knobby limbs brushing against each other, with a sound like the tick of a clock. Christian saw that Tattenai had mandibles, like a spider's, and they clicked as the commander watched him.

  "Pray don't threaten my men," Christian said.

  "It's not a threat." Tattenai slowly circled him. Christian felt like a fly trapped in a web.

  He took a deep breath. He couldn't show fear or weakness, not now.

  "Oh?" He let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword.

  "Our men are better-equipped, better trained, and able to communicate across vast distances. Goddess, your idea of a siege weapon is a boulder." Tattenai laughed. It sounded like the raspy chirp of a cicada.

  Christian restrained himself. "You're telling me that I'm fighting a battle I can't win."

  "Yes." The commander's breath was raspy, like a death rattle.

  "Are you going to take us as prisoners of war, then?" He shivered. He'd heard terrible stories about the conditions the Moors' prisoners were kept in. They were treated like slaves, unless their families ransomed them.

  There was no way, he thought, that he was going to be a slave to demons.

  "Not at all." Tattenai stopped his slow circle in front of Christian. "At this point, you stand at the crossroads. You have a choice."

  "A choice?" Christian's stomach lurched. He wasn't sure at all if he could make this 'choice', whatever it was, with a clear head. In his current state, he wasn't fit to 'choose' whether to stand or sit.

  "You can go back to your lives, before this... 'uprising'... and we'll treat you fairly. We won't punish you for your actions at all. You'll be under Dominion rule, of course, but that's a small price to pay for your lives."

  Christian frowned. After all the Solari had done, they were treating Christian's people with kindness?

  No, it wasn't kindness, he thought. It was the way you'd treat a wolf that got into your lands. You'd try to chase it back behind the fence, where it belonged, and if it didn't cooperate, you'd kill it.

  He had to remember that. The Solari did not have humanity's best interests at heart, no matter what lies they spun.

  “Or...” Tattenai continued, “you can try to fight. I can assure you, the battle will be over in minutes.”

  The commander leaned in, close to Christian, staring him down. Christian shrank away from that bug-like, faceted gaze.

  "What about your captives?" he asked.

  The noise that Tattenai made was harsh and clicking, but Christian heard a very human 'mm?', a moment afterwards. He guessed that it was being translated, just as Miriet's words were.

  "You captured several members of the nobility of my homeland, Aviganis, as well as nobles from Mepestha, Jourin, Irien... all of Christendom, and the Moorish lands, as well." He tried to speak slowly and clearly, not letting his words slur. "We rescued one of them, Sir Anthony Mercadier."

  The name made him feel ill, but he swallowed back the disgust he felt.

  “What does he look like?”

  Christian offered a quick description, trying not to dwell on Mercadier too much. Tattenai turned aside and spoke in a language Christian couldn't understand-a buzzing language of clicks and tics. He waited, bracing himself against the edge of the ridge.

  "You are correct. The human you referred to was part of our... experimental program." The commander's words were hesitant.

  Christian had no idea what an experimental program was, but it sounded unpleasant. He let his hand rest on his swordbelt, thinking carefully before he said another word.

  "Yes." He frowned. "My sister, Linna, is also part of your 'experimental' program. I'm her guardian, and I'd like her returned to me, safely."

  "Perhaps we can come to an arrangement-if you agree to return to your homes and accept our rule." Tattenai lightly emphasized the word 'if'.

  Christian felt shaken again. He had to choose between Linna's safety and the freedom of his world.

  "And this is... my decision determines..." he began.

  "Yes."

  He knew what he'd have to say. There was no other honorable thing to do; he'd have to surrender. He'd save the lives of his men, at least, and return his sister and the king to their homes. Wasn't that what he'd wanted to do, to begin with?

  He clasped the hilt of his sword tightly, and took a deep breath.

  "Sir Tattenai, I-"

  Could he really make this decision, though? Was it really his right to do so? His head was full of conflicting thoughts and answers.

  Resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also... Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.

  Honor commanded that he refuse; filial duty commanded he accept.

  Christian knew what choice he'd make for himself, but it was the coward's option. Sara, Linna, even Miriet would probably choose something different. It wasn't his place to make the decision for everyone. Was it?

  He took a deep breath to steady himself.

  "I can't put my men's lives in your hands. Your answer, sir, is 'no'."

  "I see. Very well." The commander turned, facing Christian. "Give my regards to your dead."

  The ground shook. The sky turned dark. The very air seemed to quiver, and there was a noise like the rushing of many waters. Christian reeled, trying not to fall. He thought that the end of the world had come upon him, and though it made no sense, he felt that it was his fault.

  "Christian, don't-"

  Miriet came sprinting up the path, sides heaving like a horse's after a race. Her scales were bright, dangerous red, and her nostrils flared.

  "Christian-" she began. "...Oh.”

  "Ah, the escaped prisoner." Tattenai's mouth opened, showing entirely too many teeth. "I'll deal with you later."

  "She's my most trusted friend," Christian said. “Stay away from her.”

  He was shouting over the rush of the wind. As he watched, a great shape, like a wheel of fire, lowered itself from the sky. He thought, at first, that it was an angel, burning with holy light. But as it drew nearer, the sun glinted off of its metal shell, and he realized that men had made this thing.

  There was a strange crest on its side, easily as big as a man standing on another man's shoulders. A man, a Teliat, a scorpion, and even stranger shapes shone from it in blue, flanked by a white stalk of wheat and a white olive branch. It looked like a coat of arms, but it was no coat of arms Christian had ever seen.

  "See?" Miriet shouted, voice weak against the noise of the storm. "I told you they were coming!"

  Chapter TwentyTwo

  Christian
crossed himself, and willed himself to stay upright.

  "Is that..." he began, weakly.

  "That's the Commonwealth ship!" Miriet chirped.

  "But I thought-" Christian said.

  "Have a little faith in me, will ya?" Her tail wound around his upper arm.

  A loud voice came from the ship, shaking the air. Christian covered his ears, but he could still hear every word.

  "This is Captain Mbeki, of the Commonwealth Defense Fleet." It was a woman's voice, deep and rich. "You're making an illegal occupation, and I'm going to have to ask you to stand down.”

  Christian gripped the rock face as his head spun. Damn it, he wasn't going to go unconscious, not now. There was too much to do.

  He sat down, heavily, on the ground. They'd won. His home would, he hoped, be free.

  Amidst the confusion, somehow, he limped himself down to the medical tent and lowered himself onto a bedroll. The throbbing pain in his head didn't keep him awake for long.

  ★★★

  He felt warmth on his face, and woke. Sunlight came through the curtains-wait, curtains?

  Christian sat up and looked around. He was lying in a bed, the likes of which he hadn't slept in since leaving home. He was in a room with soft, pink walls, and the sun shone through a window beside him.

  "You're awake!" Linna was sitting at the foot of his bed.

  "Sister...?" He blinked, and sat up. His head still throbbed with every movement, but the pain felt unreal. He wondered if he was dreaming, but he felt awake.

  "Are you all right? You look dreadfully wounded." She leaned in close. Her lips quirked to one side.

  "I'm fine." He leaned in close, and hugged her. Though he wasn't sad, tears wouldn't stop flowing from his eyes.

  She stayed there for a long moment, but she pulled away all too soon.

  “...I should ask you the same question,” Christian said, quietly.

  “I'm fine,” she said. She sounded far too casual about it, as if they were home, safe, and not God knew where. “They treated us pretty well.”

  “I'm glad.” Christian tried to smile. His head throbbed, and he winced. But despite the pain, he felt quietly happy. Linna was saved. That was all that mattered. Now, they could go home.