Starburner

by Claire Luana

  A sob escaped her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, turning from Vikal. She wouldn’t cry. Not again.

  “Rika.” Vikal placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “I just need a minute.”

  “I will help you return home,” he said. “I swear it. Once you master your powers and we defeat the leeches here, we will have our pick of their ships. We will return to your land and defeat them for good.”

  She whirled on him. “How? How will I learn about my powers? I tried to summon some light and I blew up our ship with a sparrow!”

  Vikal pressed his lips shut, but the corner of his mouth crept up in a smile.

  Rika let out an incredulous laugh and closed her eyes, a tear leaking down her cheek. She shook her head, her sorrow mingling with the ridiculousness of their situation in a strange cocktail that somehow made her feel just a tiny bit better. She welcomed it, clung to it. She wasn’t ready to let her sorrow over her father bear her away in its powerful tide. Not now. Right now, she needed to hold herself together.

  Vikal chuckled—that velvet laugh again. “That was one powerful bird.”

  Rika heaved a sigh, opening her eyes. “How am I supposed to defeat these leeches if I don’t know a thing about these abilities?”

  Vikal stood, brushing the pink sand from his trousers. “I might. First, we find water and food. Then, I will tell you what I know.”

  THEY TRUDGED ACROSS the soft sand into the shadow of the jungle. Vikal flowed through the forest like he’d been born to it, and at times Rika could swear she saw the plants and vines bow out of his way to make a path. “Do you know where we are?” she asked as they walked.

  He nodded. “I know the pink sand beach—Pulau Ungu. We keep towards the volcano Kaja Kansa until we cross a ridgeline, and then we will have a view of the whole of Nua.”

  “What’s a volcano? And what’s Kaja Kansa?” Rika asked. The words were unfamiliar.

  “It is a mountain that spits fire. Kaja Kansa is its name.”

  “Fire?” she asked incredulously.

  “Not all the time. But yes. When it is angry.”

  Rika shook her head at the strangeness of it all. But in her world, women burned the energy of the moon. So who was to say that here a mountain couldn’t breathe fire?

  “Ah!” Vikal said, approaching a tall, leafy tree ladened with rich, purple fruit. He reached up to grab a fruit just out of reach, and the tree bent towards him, relinquishing its treasure.

  “I saw that!” Rika said, pointing at the tree accusingly. “It moved! I thought I was imagining it…but the whole forest…it’s moving around you!”

  “Eat,” he said, holding out a fruit to her. “Then I will explain.”

  Rika examined the fruit in her hand with skepticism, but her rumbling stomach quieted any doubts. She bit into the fruit—or rather, tried. Her teeth wouldn’t puncture the thick skin. It was like leather. She gnawed at the fruit with her molars but couldn’t get anywhere. “How do you eat this thing?” she asked, glaring at it.

  Vikal looked at her and shook his head. In his own hand, he had somehow cracked open the purple skin to reveal sections of smooth, white fruit within. “Do not eat the skin. Here. I will show you.” He took her hands, lacing her fingers together. The sensation of his touch traveled up her arms into her torso like an unfurling ribbon, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the lock of hair falling over his eyes. Fruit. He placed the purple thing between the heel of her hands. “Now press,” he said, gently pushing her hands together between his own. As more pressure was exerted, the skin of the fruit split in half.

  “I did it!” she said, delighted.

  He smiled, but as their eyes met, he dropped her hands and stepped back. “I hope you like the flavor. It is very sweet.”

  Rika discarded the skin and bit into the fruit, letting its juices run over her chin. The flesh was firm but yielded in a satisfying crunch. “It’s delicious,” she said, taking another bite.

  Vikal stripped two huge leaves from a nearby palm and fashioned them into a little satchel, which he filled with fruit. “Ready?” he asked. “I would like to reach the ridge by nightfall. See what we can see.”

  Rika nodded, chewing the last of her fruit and wiping her sticky hands on her leggings. “Lead the way. And it’s time to get talking.”

  He sighed, stepping back onto the trail the forest somehow made for him. “Yes.”

  Vikal handed Rika another fruit and she popped it open as they walked.

  “Do you have gods in your land?” Vikal asked.

  “Yes. We have a god of the sun and goddess of the moon.”

  “Any others?”

  “Just those two. There’s a…creator of our world, but he is above the gods. He created them. At least that’s what my mother said.”

  “Are these gods born? Do they die?”

  Rika frowned, considering as she chewed. “I don’t believe so. They were created, and they always have been. They can die, though. A few years before I was born, they were almost destroyed.”

  He nodded. “In Nua, in this land, the gods are born like men. They live and then they die. And then they are reborn. It is a cycle we have seen many times over. Sometimes, for whatever reason, it takes many years for a god to be reincarnated. Other times, the god is reborn as soon as the old body is put to sea.”

  “So the gods are like people? What do they look like?”

  Vikal stepped off the path and picked up what looked like an oversized green nut. “They do look like people. They are people. But they are more. They are gods. Other cultures might think of them like…demi-gods? A god’s rebirth is heralded by a storm of falling stars. In this way, we know to keep a close eye on the babies who are born that night, to watch if they develop special abilities.”

  “What kind of abilities?” Rika was fascinated now, the rest of her snack forgotten. Gods as people, walking among them? Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, looking around at the forest. A vine undulating in the corner of her eye suddenly froze, as if guilty at being spotted.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she asked. “God of the forest, or something.”

  He turned. The green in his eyes seemed brilliant here, shining with power and force. His three eyes. The third eye on his brow glowed as well. “Yes. I am the god of green things. The forest speaks to me, and I to it.”

  She looked around her, craning her head to look up at the soaring canopy, so thick and lush that the hot sunshine barely filtered through. This was all Vikal. He controlled it all. She looked back at him, letting out a steadying breath. “Okay. Nice to meet you, god of green things.”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It is not as impressive as it sounds.” He bent over to pick up a sharp stick, and with one powerful move, drove the end into the ground.

  “It sounds pretty impressive,” she said, watching as he began to expertly drive the green nut thing onto the stick, shearing off sections to reveal something within. It was mesmerizing to watch him work.

  “I could not even stop the soul-eaters from massacring our people,” he said, grunting as he pulled off the outer shell to reveal a furry brown ball within. “They burned the forest, barreled over any defenses we put up. We did not stand a chance.”

  “My father was the most powerful sunburner I had ever known. And they killed him…” She swallowed. “Like he was a helpless child. They’re so strong.”

  “Rika,” Vikal said softly. “I am sorry about your father. There is no forgiveness for the part I played in his death.”

  She looked away, examining the ombré petals on a creamy-white flower—fighting the vise grip around her heart, the burning in her eyes. “It wasn’t you.”

  “But I was in there…I remember—“

  “It wasn’t you,” she snapped at him. She couldn’t hear his confession, see the twisted sorrow on his face. Because when she thought about the part he’d played, even kn
owing he’d been under compulsion…she wanted to rip him apart with her bare hands, dreamy green eyes or no. And she couldn’t think like that right now. She needed him. Clearly. She didn’t even know how to eat fruit here without him.

  “Let’s just drop it, okay?” she asked, and he nodded. He fell to his knees a few feet beyond the trail and cracked the brown ball across a rock with a satisfying pop.

  “What is that?” Rika asked, grateful for something to focus on other than the memory of Vikal’s part in her father’s death.

  He offered one half of the little ball to her. “It’s a coconut. You can drink the water within. And eat the white flesh.”

  “Oh! We have coconuts. I guess I never saw them…out in the wild.”

  Vikal took a long drink from his half. “They don’t spring to life in neat sections on a plate.”

  “I see that now,” Rika said. Was he making fun of her? But no, there was a crinkle of a smile at the corner of his eyes. She drank her fill, closing her eyes as the sweet liquid coated her scratched and salty throat. When she opened them, their eyes met, and he looked away quickly, breaking a section off his coconut with deft hands.

  She cleared her throat. “Tell me more about the gods. How many of you are there?”

  They resumed their trek. “There are seven that move through the cycle of birth, life, and rebirth. We are not always here at the same time. In fact, it is rare that we are.”

  “Do you know each other?”

  “There is often an innate connection. When I first met Bahti, we were children. We became instant friends—like we each recognized the divine spark in the other.”

  “What are Bahti’s powers?”

  “He is god of the burning mountain.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I hope that he is sheltering what is left of our people. But he may be dead. Or a thrall.”

  “Thrall?”

  “Under the leeches’ compulsion. It is we call it.”

  “So you hope we can find these gods and band together and defeat the leeches?”

  “I think I have already found one.”

  “One what?”

  “A god. Or, I should say, a goddess.”

  He stopped and turned to her. She blinked in confusion, coming up short. Why was he looking at her with such intensity? But then the wheels of her mind clicked into place and she stepped back, putting her hands up. “Oh no. You think…I’m a goddess?” She laughed incredulously. “Remember the incident with the sparrow explosion?”

  “I do. You did not have such power when we were on the beach in your land. Do your powers feel stronger here?”

  Rika frowned. The power had felt exponentially stronger the second time she’d tried to access it. “Yes. But maybe it’s stronger because I’m getting used to it. It wasn’t the first time.”

  “My power was much weakened when we were in your land, almost non-existent. Now that I have returned, it is strong again. I think your power has strengthened for the same reason. Because it comes from Nua.”

  “But I’m not even from here! How is that possible?”

  “I do not know. In the past there have been generations where one or more of the gods or goddesses were not reborn. We always assumed that they were pausing in the cycle of rebirth for some unknown reason. But what if they were born—only born in another land? Another world? We never knew any world but Nua existed. The astrolabes have changed that. Who knows how many worlds are out there? Perhaps our gods, for whatever reason, are sometimes born far away.”

  Rika shook her head, her mind refusing to wrap itself around what Vikal was telling her.

  “Sixteen years ago, there was a storm of falling stars unlike any alive had seen before. It was in the heat of mid-summer. I remember it, though I was only four years old. We knew it heralded the rebirth of a powerful god or goddess. My parents were very excited because they already suspected what I was. The priests scoured the island, looking for the babe who had been heralded. But they never found one.”

  Rika’s mouth had gone dry.

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen,” she said woodenly.

  “And when is your birthday?”

  “July…”

  “In the stories, the goddess had a great bird that she would ride, a companion of light made manifest. This…Cygna, the sparrow you summoned. Perhaps it is not big enough to ride, but it fits the stories.”

  She laughed weakly. “Of course my powers would show up in miniature.”

  “They will grow, with practice. When I was first learning to use my ability, I could hardly make a seedling grow.”

  Rika turned from him, chewing on her lip. Could this be possible? Did she believe him? True, the ability she had was unlike anything she had ever heard of in the history books of Kita or Miina. And she had felt more raw power since they had arrived here. But if she was a Nuan goddess…why had she been born in Kitina?

  “Would it be such a terrible thing, to be a goddess?” he asked gently.

  She turned back, taking in his handsome face—worried and cautious. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad.

  “If I believe this rebirth nonsense…If I believe that I am what you say I am…” She paused. “What am I goddess of?”

  “Goddess of bright light.”

  Goddess of bright light. It did have a nice ring to it.

  AS THE DAY progressed, the heavy heat of Nua’s afternoon settled over them like a blanket. Vikal let it melt into his bones and permeate his muscles, hardly minding the sweat that dripped off him and slicked the leather armor to his skin. He was home.

  The terrain grew rugged as they neared the ridgeline that would stretch Nua before them—all the way from its eastern to western shores. The trees and foliage helped their passage by leaning out of the way, bowing in deference to their god. Vikal opened his third eye and smiled to himself at the explosion of green tethers tying him to every living plant on the island. He surveyed the land with relief. It seemed his absence hadn’t been too detrimental. Here, the threads of the jungle were vibrant and lush, thick with birth and life, death and decay—the cycle of a healthy forest. Beyond, past the ridge and the shadow of Kaja Kansa, he didn’t know what he would find. Those threads were twisted—or missing altogether. The soul-eaters had burned much of the forest on their march to Surasaya. How much had been destroyed? And more importantly, how many people were left?

  As they walked, Vikal pointed out to Rika the plants and animals they passed—a family of bearded monkeys, a colorful green parrot, the downy white frangipani flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. His makeshift satchel filled with more bounty as he pulled up fruits and roots that they passed. The girl had tied her long, black hair in a knot at the back of her head and drank deeply when they finally found a stream. Though sweat poured off her, rolling down her smooth skin and dampening her stained tunic, she didn’t complain, and she kept up his vigorous pace. She was tougher than she looked.

  He sighed. Of course she was. She had lost her father and been essentially kidnapped by a stranger who might as well have been her father’s murderer. It was a miracle she was tolerating his company at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a whisper of white, a curving smile and undulating lock of hair. When he turned, it was gone. He stifled a sigh. It must be wishful thinking that made him think of Sarya, to think he saw her here in this forest where they had fallen in love. He wished she were here. His wife had had a way of making people feel welcome and wanted, becoming their instant friend. And with Sarya, it had been genuine. She would have known how to help this poor girl.

  Rika was looking at him sideways under her thick lashes, her chest heaving from the effort of the hike.

  “We should be to the top soon,” he said.

  “Thank the gods,” Rika said. She let out a little laugh. “Or…thank you? Right? Because you’re a god?” She shook her head. “The idea takes some getting used to.”

  “It did for me as well.”

  “Wil
l you tell me about the gods or goddesses?” she asked. “You said there are seven? What other powers do they have?”

  “Of course,” Vikal said, grateful for a topic that felt safe. “My friend Ajij is god of the deep sea, and like I said, my other friend Bahti is god of the burning mountain. He’s a bit rough on the edges, but he has a good heart.”

  “Any goddesses?”

  “Kemala, goddess of dark spaces. She is really quite sweet,” he said hurriedly when he saw Rika’s eyebrow raise. “A little intimidating at first, though. And then there is Sarnak, who trained most of us. He seemed ancient when I was a boy—he is practically a fossil by now.” Vikal paused, his tone turning somber. “If he is still alive. He is the god of endings.”

  “Endings?”

  “Yes. Death…but not so morbid. We believe all life is circular. When we leave this place when we die, our spirits rejoin the great consciousness. It is an ending of sorts, but not the end. When we are born in a new body, the cycle begins again.”

  “We believe something similar, I suppose. When you die, your spirit goes to the spirit world, where it may spend just minutes, or years, if you have reason to hold on. But eventually, you pass along. We don’t believe you come back, though.”

  “So once you are gone, you are just…gone?” he asked. “It sounds sad.”

  A cloud of emotion passed over Rika’s face and her lower lip quivered. Vikal could have kicked himself. Speaking of the sadness of her beliefs, after her father had just passed on…

  “I’ve never thought about it much. Before now.” Rika managed, her voice thick. “I guess it means we have to make the most of the time we have.”

  “That is a good way to live, whether you come back or not.” But to only have one chance to get things right on this Earth…what pressure.

  “Are you the ruler of Nua?” Rika asked. “The way you talk about the people…it’s like you feel a sense of responsibility.”