Starburner

by Claire Luana

  Kemala nodded at Rika, and in a rush, the woman ran to her, pulling her into an embrace. “Thank you,” Kemala whispered.

  “Go save Tamar.” Rika gave Kemala a little shove. “Go.”

  The others looked at her with thanks and waves before turning, disappearing into the skeleton forest. Ajij was last, giving her a little salute with his trident. “You are worthy of the mantle, goddess of bright light.” And then he was gone.

  “Let’s go,” Rika said, movement hiding the lump in her throat, the tears in her eyes.

  She followed Vikal through the empty castle. The carved walls and twisting staircases felt familiar somehow. Ajij, Kemala, Sarnak, even infuriating Bahti, their souls felt familiar as well, though she had known them for only days. And Vikal. As much as she wanted to feel nothing more than cold indifference—believe that their relationship was a mutually-beneficial business arrangement—her treacherous heart kept telling her otherwise. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Even if she felt one way, there could be no future for them. They were from different worlds, loyal to different lands. And Vikal was married to a ghost.

  The doors of the castle opened onto a majestic stone patio leading down to the sea. A half-dozen black ships bobbed beyond the surf, their charcoal hulls staining the crystal waters of the idyllic turquoise bay.

  “Come on.” Vikal jogged down onto the soft white sand, shoving a rowboat towards the sea. She took the other side and together they pushed the little boat into the surf before hopping in. Vikal took the oars and with powerful strokes rowed them towards the nearest of the soul-eater vessels.

  “How do you feel?” he asked. “Stretched thin?”

  She nodded. It was an apt description. The power she was using to maintain the constellations here on Nua pulled at her, stretching her back towards the island. It was as if part of her soul was fighting her, wanting to be there—fighting beside them. How bad would she feel once she traveled thousands of miles from Nua? A world away? Would her power be ripped from her like a babe from the womb? She ran her fingers along the stitching on the handle of her blade. Please be enough to tether me here, she prayed.

  “Do you think you will be able to hold the constellations when you get to Kitina? To have anything left to fight with?”

  Why did he have to ask these questions? The questions that burned in her own mind. What if the only thing she accomplished with this foolish division of her powers was to doom both lands to destruction? By not choosing, would she fail them both? “I’ll have to,” was all she finally managed to say.

  The rowboat bumped against the hull of one of the ships. Rika grabbed the ladder. She climbed up over the rail, followed closely by Vikal. He tied the rowboat to the rail and took the cover off the astrolabe. It looked the same as the others, glowing sickly green. “It draws its power from the leeches,” he said. His handsome face twisted with regret.

  “Okay.” She shrugged, unsure of his meaning. Until it hit her. “If you kill the leeches here on Nua—these will be useless. You couldn’t get to Kitina, even if you wanted to.” And if I succeed in killing the leeches in Kitina…I will never be able to return to Nua, she realized. This was the end. Her and Vikal’s end.

  He nodded. “I promised to go back and help you defeat them. To free your land. I have to break that promise.”

  Rika pursed her lips. So she was truly on her own. She didn’t know why she had thought that Vikal would come to save her once he defeated the leeches that threatened Goa Awan. But part of her had. Part of her had hoped. That she wouldn’t have to do this alone. She forced a smile. “I suppose I broke my promise too. I said I would help you rid your land of the leeches before going home. But I couldn’t do that.”

  “You are doing that,” he said softly, turning the dials of the astrolabe in some unknowable pattern, tuning it back to her home.

  As he finished, he met her gaze—unspoken words charging the air between them. She was sick of words unspoken. “Do you wish she had been goddess of bright light?” Her. Sarya. His wife. The memory that seemed to hover over him, clouding the destiny that they might have shared.

  He shook his head. “It was always supposed to be you.”

  She nodded. Say something, she thought, wanting to shout it at him. Say something, she shouted at herself. Say something, do something, don’t let the last time you ever see each other be an awkward goodbye. She opened her mouth, unsure what would come out, but he beat her to it.

  “Good luck, Princess Rika. Goddess of bright light. I am honored to have known you, and to have called you friend.” He bowed low before her, his dark hair shining in the sun.

  She nodded, swallowing her disappointment. So that’s how it would be. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for all you did for me. For my people.”

  “Likewise. You will free Kitina from the soul-eaters. I know it.”

  “I better get to it then,” she said. “You too. You don’t want Bahti to take all the good action.”

  He grinned that brilliant smile, and this time it pierced her heart through as surely as an arrow. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared. “You can manage the sails?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her voice was thicker than she wanted it to be.

  “The astrolabe will transport you when you get far enough away from shore,” he said, turning. He walked to the rail where the rowboat was tied, his steps jerky. He looked back at her, and the whole world seemed to pause for a moment. Would he say something? A true goodbye? But no. The world sped up again as he threw his leg over the rail and began descending the ladder.

  She watched him go, longer than she should have. She watched him settling onto the little bench, taking the oars in sure hands. She watched him row back towards the castle with steady strokes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, for it seemed that he watched her too. Like they couldn’t give up the last image of each other, the last moment, the last glimpse.

  When the bow of his rowboat hit the shore, she tore herself from the rail and launched into action, letting the routines of readying the ship crowd out the emotions, the thoughts that screamed at her. Untie the sails, instead of thinking of that bow. A bow? What in the gods’ name was that? Pull up the anchor—rather than dwelling on how she should have kissed him. Should have said something. Should have done something, anything other than stand like a limp fish waving goodbye. Hoist the sails, tie off the lines, take the wheel, these things grounded her, focused her. Nua, Vikal, her destiny as goddess of bright light, all of it. It was a dream. A strange interlude to her life. Kitina, Yoshai, her mother, her brother. This was real life. Her reality. It was time she wake up.

  “Hold on, Mother,” she said, wiping the tears from her face, tightening the main sail. “I’m coming.”

  IT WAS LESS of an evacuation and more of a feeding frenzy. Screams from below punctuated the air, ringing in Kai’s ears. She dropped the telescope with a hiss, smashing the castle wall with her fist in frustration.

  “The dragons are helping,” Nanase said, her voice tired and flat. “At least more will get away. We should be grateful to Tsuki and Taiyo for sending them.”

  “They are helping like a bucket of water helps a forest fire,” Kai said. Koji stood next to her, swaying with exhaustion in his armor, soot and dried sweat crusted on his face. She had finally relented and allowed Koji and his classmates to join the fight. Their koumori squadron had helped hold the walls of the inner city as long as they could, to allow as many people as would fit to flee into the relative safety of the palace. The only evacuation happening now had been taken over by a dozen serpentine dragons sent by the god and goddess of their world. Deities that were pacifists, not fighters. Where was a god of war when you needed one? Half of the dragons were shuttling people out of the palace a few at a time, depositing them with the rest of the fleeing citizens to the north.

  The others were razing her city, destroying as many of the enemy’s forces as they could find, blocking streets and burning bridges. Dragon fire was a
s useless against the soul-eaters as burning, but the dragons could incinerate the soul-eaters’ followers, their shadow army of black-clad soldiers. That was something. Though it wasn’t enough. Soul-eaters strode ahead unimpeded, following the fleeing citizens to the north. Even the people who were getting out couldn’t escape forever. They would be picked off one by one until every inhabitant of this land was dead. And she, their queen, would cower in her palace until death came through the gates for her.

  Kai turned and strode to the other side of the courtyard, training her telescope on the creatures that worked to break down the palace gates. “You’re sure that’s the one who killed your father?” Kai asked Koji, who had followed in her wake like a shadow.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “Three fingers. I recognize that staff, too. He’s the one, all right. And traitorous Master Tato is at his side. “

  Kai wanted to rain fire and brimstone down upon these ungodly creatures. She wanted divine justice. She wanted to slice off their heads and watch them roll down the steps of the palace. Anger burned within her as hot as a furnace, but she was impotent to release it. There was nothing they could do against these creatures. It would burn her up inside.

  “Remind me again why we can’t make a last charge? At least go out like warriors instead of rats cowering in the dark?” Kai asked Nanase.

  “It’s too soon,” Nanase said.

  “We’ve tried everything,” Kai said. “No word from the seishen elder. I don’t think I’ll be getting back the power of the creator anytime soon, even if it were enough. I’ve even thought about summoning the tengu into this world to fight the soul-eaters for us, but Geisa says they’re just as likely to turn against us as fight for us. More so.”

  “We certainly don’t need another set of superhuman evil demons to fight. We’ve got our hands full with these ones,” Quitsu remarked from his perch on the castle wall.

  “We still have Rika,” Koji said quietly, his jaw set, his eyes trained on the horizon.

  Kai’s heart twisted. She reached out and stroked Koji’s golden hair, the back of his neck. “I miss her too,” she whispered. “But she’s not coming back.”

  “We don’t know that. We don’t know what happened to her.”

  “The creatures said they killed her.”

  “They’re liars,” Koji said. “I know she’s not dead.”

  Kai sighed, swallowing the question she wanted to ask. If she isn’t dead, where is she? Why hasn’t she come? “I want to believe it too, but it’s wishful thinking. A ruler has to face facts, not make decisions based on prophecies and prayers. We rally the troops for a final push. I want to distract the soul-eaters and take out as many of their followers as we can before we go. Give the remaining people in the palace the best chance of escaping.”

  “Mother, no!” Koji shouted, his voice cracking. “Don’t give up.”

  Quitsu stood as well. “Listen to your son. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “All I’ve been doing for the past week is thinking, thinking. At some point, it’s time for fighting. I’ve made my decision. It’s not up for debate.”

  “Your Majesty…” Nanase began, but Kai cut her off, her voice softening. “Not you too, Nanase.”

  Nanase inclined her head, resigned. “It will be done. We will show them a last charge worthy of the burners.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Kai stroked the jade pommel of the dagger at her side. Her fingers itched to drive it into flesh. This anger…it was stronger than she had ever felt. Burning, burning.

  Koji turned on his heel and stomped towards the stairs. Not that there was much room downstairs. The palace was packed with refugees, soldiers and burners. But he paused before descending the stairs, looking into the mute sky. “Is that a shooting star?” He pointed to the south, towards a shimmering streak moving through the hazy smoke.

  “During the day?” Nanase asked.

  Kai watched it, her heart leaping into her throat. It was close. Too close. A surge of knowing flooded her—a mother’s intuition. She grabbed Nanase’s arm to steady herself, her gaze locked on the object. It was drawing nearer. “It’s not a shooting star. It’s my daughter.”

  “What?” Nanase looked at Kai with concern, and Koji returned to her side. “What do you mean?”

  “Wait,” Kai breathed. The streaming star surged closer until it wasn’t moving across the sky but down, barreling towards Yoshai, towards the Earth, towards them. It hit the roof of the palace with an explosion of light. Kai and the others shielded their eyes, blinking into the blinding whiteness to make out what had fallen.

  “Rika?” Kai cried, running towards it, throwing caution to the wind. Her arms longed to embrace her daughter, her baby; her breath was ragged in her throat. The light dimmed, dying to only the brightness and size of a moon orb. Swooping above the stones of the courtyard was a tiny, perfect sparrow. Instead of feathers and flesh it was made of pure spirit and celestial power. “Are you the queen of Kitina?” it asked, its voice tiny but strong.

  “Me,” Kai said eagerly. “I’m the queen. Are you from Rika?”

  “Rika lives,” it said, and Koji whooped beside her. “She is returning. She says to hold on. She is coming as soon as she can.”

  Returning? From where? Kai thought. The creature began to rise back towards the sky. “Wait!” Kai cried. “Where is she? When is she coming?”

  “As soon as she can,” the sparrow repeated, and then it took to the air, soaring back towards the southern horizon.

  Kai’s heart sang within her as she watched the creature depart, the burning anger quenched by the surge of another emotion. Hope.

  “A little light on the details,” Nanase remarked. “How long will we have to hold?”

  “As long as it takes,” Kai said, wrapping her arm around Koji. “As long as it takes.”

  THOUGH RIKA EXPECTED the shift this time, it still surprised her. The astrolabe flared to life, its unnatural green glow launching the little ship through space or time or…she didn’t know how it worked. All she knew was that when the spinning and lurching stopped, she vomited onto the deck before collapsing onto the wooden boards. She was lightheaded from eating so little over the past days, and her head pounded from the journey. And then there was the deep abiding sense of thinness, like she would look behind her and find herself stretching all the way back to Nua. It was hard to breathe. She placed a firm hand on her chest, as if she could hold her spirit inside with her palm, press back together the pieces of her heart that had shattered upon the sight of Vikal’s boat hitting the shore. He had left her. Yes, she had left him too…but a foolish, desperate part of her had hoped. That he would come with her. That she wouldn’t have to do this all by herself. She spit again on the deck, a cough and a sob mingling with the taste of her bile. How could she defeat the soul-eaters like this? She felt as if she had been turned inside out.

  She slowly lowered herself back to the wood of the deck, rolling onto her back. The cloudless afternoon sky was hazy—a sickly gray color that spoke of ashes and fear. Kitina’s sky. Her sky. The urge to wallow in self-pity flickered and went. They were counting on her. And every moment could be the difference between saving them and being too late.

  She pushed herself to her feet and took in her surroundings. Her little ship had deposited her amongst the soul-eater’s fleet, nestled her against the edge of the silent armada. Smoke drifted across the shoreline, adding to the pallor of the sky. Rika narrowed her eyes. It was time these leeches paid for what they had done.

  Rika undid the rowboat and made her way through the fleet towards the shore. In places, the boats were so tightly packed that she could hardly navigate between them. It felt claustrophobic with their tall black sides stretching up above her, her oars bumping wood on wood. Though she had seen it before, the size of the fleet astounded her once again. How many men had these ships carried? How many soul-eaters? How did her mother and the burners stand any chance of holding them off, let alone defeating them? How
did she?

  The rowboat reached the shore and Rika hopped out into the surf. She left it behind. Rika hiked up the slippery dunes of the beach and crested them into the sparse grass. The sight stopped her in her tracks. As far as the eye could see, the grass was destroyed. Burned in places, trampled in others by the boots of thousands of thousands. It was a day’s ride from here to Yoshai, and once she got there, Rika had absolutely no idea what to do. The city would be surrounded by soul-eaters and their soldiers. Was she going to work her way through from the back, killing as she went? Here she was to save her people, and she had no plan, let alone a horse. Some prophesied savior she was. Rika sighed, rubbing her temples in a fruitless attempt to rid herself of the pounding. Well, there was only one thing to do: Start walking.

  In the distance, if she squinted, Rika could see the palace at Yoshai, high on the hill above the city. She had always loved the view from the very top courtyard, the broad expanse sweeping across the green valley to the sea. She couldn’t help but imagine what that view looked like now, with swarms of soul-eaters and their soldiers covering the land and polluting the city. Was she already too late? Was her mother dead? If so, what would she do? There were a few burners in Kyuden and Kistana, the capitals of the former countries of Kita and Miina before they had been joined in unity by her parents. Perhaps she could rally those burners…save some.

  She looked back at the sea, darkened by boats. There were so many soul-eaters. There was no way she could fight them all individually. She needed to kill their queen, hope that when the queen fell, the numbered soul-eaters and their thralls would fall also. But where was she? Finding her would be like a needle in a haystack. Neither Vikal or Cayono had learned much of use during their time as thralls. They knew only of her rise to power, of the reverence with which the other soul-eaters spoke of her. Thinking of Vikal sent a waterfall of emotions through her, surging and bubbling. What was happening in Nua? Were they facing the soul-eaters? Would the constellations be enough? As thin and weak as she felt now, she knew that leaving the constellations with them had been the right thing to do. Perhaps Nua wasn’t her home, but it had embraced her. She couldn’t leave them to die undefended. And Vikal…whom she would never see again. Vikal who was deep enough to drown in, bright enough to burn. Her destiny. And she had sailed away. Chosen a different path. “For you, Kitina,” she said softly. “You are my destiny.”