Starburner

by Claire Luana

  “I am in,” Ajij said. “She is one of us. We help our own. Leave one constellation here to protect the island. Take the others and the soul-eater with you. Help her. Kill the queen. Make sure these creatures never set foot on Nuan soil again.”

  Tamar turned her face to Bahti, wiping her tears with the back of her fist. Her voice was small but strong. “If Rika needs help, you should go.”

  Bahti stroked her hair and pulled her into a hug. “I could not refuse my girl anything. We go.”

  The centaur had pummeled the soul-eater a few times with a hoof to the helmet to ensure the monster was truly unconscious. They had wrapped it in cloth, and now Bahti dragged the leech behind them, complaining the entire way.

  Vikal turned, looking over his shoulder, asking for the third time. “Do you want help?”

  Bahti dropped the end of the fabric, his barrel chest heaving. “No.” He turned and gave the bundle a vicious kick. “That is for Sarnak, you disgusting leech!” He kicked again, his sandaled foot clanging against creature’s armor.

  “I doubt it feels that through its armor,” Vikal said, doubling back and picking up one corner of the fabric.

  “Still makes me feel better.”

  Kemala shook her head and turned, continuing to trudge down the hill. No doubt she was used to her husband’s antics.

  “And what is that smell?” Bahti asked. “Ugh. Sulfur.”

  “Imagine being trapped on a boat with them. Sleeping near them. Killing for them.”

  Bahti’s face grew grim. “I forget that however much we have been through on Nua, you went through more. You have lost more.”

  Vikal had never thought he would feel a pain as deep as losing Sarya. But now, in doing his best to avoid such pain again, he might lose Rika, too. He couldn’t think of that right now. “We have all lost much.”

  “Sarnak will want a shrine built in his honor,” Bahti said.

  “A shrine? A temple!” Vikal said. “A palace!” He quieted. “In truth, he deserves all that and more. He was like a father to all of us. As angry as I am at him about Sarya, I cannot believe he is gone.”

  “He will be back,” Ajij said from a few steps behind them. “I feel it. We will see him again soon. He will put on quite a show when he is reincarnated.”

  “Biggest star-fall in fifty years,” Bahti agreed.

  “Not the biggest,” Vikal said, remembering his childlike wonder as stars fell like confetti across the heavens, heralding the birth of the goddess of bright light.

  “Do you believe what Sarya said?” Bahti asked. “That she knew? Before the end.”

  “Oh, yes,” Vikal said. “She was brave and stubborn enough to try to take on the world herself. I believe her.”

  “I have been blaming you, bak,” Bahti said. “It was not fair of me.”

  “I blamed myself too. I still do.”

  “Even the god of green things cannot control all the world,” Bahti said.

  “So I have learned.”

  Silence stretched between them, marked by only the swishing of their steps.

  “You truly care for her,” Bahti finally said. Bahti didn’t say Rika’s name, but Vikal knew whom he spoke of.

  “I will always love Sarya,” Vikal said quickly. “But…yes. I care for Rika. More than I thought I was capable of.”

  “I suppose…” Bahti’s voice was gruff. “I have not been entirely fair to that girl. She did leave behind the constellations that saved us. That saved Tamar.”

  “True,” Vikal said, a small part of him enjoying Bahti’s discomfort. Was his friend actually going to apologize?

  “What I am saying is…if you want to love her…then I guess I am all right with that.”

  “That was downright civilized,” Kemala chimed in without turning around.

  Vikal nodded. “That means a lot, bak.”

  “Right!” Bahti said, his face flushed. “We go get your girl! Well, assuming she feels the same about you. She does feel the same?”

  Vikal looked at the ground, avoiding Bahti’s piercing red gaze. He had asked himself the same thing many times. There had been moments where something had passed between them. Something deeper. Something more. But he had abandoned her. Left her to return home on her own, broken his promise. Could she forgive him? Would she want anything to do with him? A broken man from another world… “I do not know,” he finally admitted.

  “She does, you foolish man,” Kemala said, again not turning. Her black hair swished behind her as she walked. “And it should not take the goddess of dark spaces to see it. You are fated. And the fates are not about to let you two screw things up.”

  Bahti raised his eyebrows at Vikal, who flushed with hope. “Do not mess with the fates,” Bahti said.

  “No.” A smile broke across Vikal’s face. “I would not dare.”

  The soul-eaters’ ships sat quietly, spots of shadow in the crystal-clear water of the bay. They made quick work of dropping the unconscious soul-eater into a rowboat and making their way out to the nearest vessel anchored in shallow water. Vikal’s heart thudded in his chest, remembering making the same voyage with Rika just hours ago. Had she made it? Was she safe? Locked in the battle of her life against hundreds of soul-eaters? Would he arrive too late…only to find her gone?

  “She is strong,” Kemala said, placing her hand over his where he was drumming his fingers on his knee. “And smart. She will survive.”

  He nodded. She would survive. He would accept no other outcome.

  They had banished all the constellations but two, an eagle, who soared before them to the ship, and the scorpion, who guarded the caves. The others had disappeared back into the sky, their energies released to return to where they had come from, borne on threads invisible to all but the gods.

  Upon arriving at the ship, they rigged a rope to haul the dead weight of the soul-eater from the rowboat onto the deck. It was too heavy for one or two men to lift—the creature was huge, and its armor weighed a ton. But with Bahti straining against the rope, and Ajij and Vikal steadying it, they got it on board, dropping it into the deck with a crash. The centaur’s blows had left it out cold, but Vikal still eyed the cloth-wrapped bundle with unease. Being near the creatures made his skin crawl. The leeches weren’t natural.

  Ajij set to work readying the ship to sail while Bahti and Vikal pulled up the anchor. Kemala pulled the cover off the astrolabe, examining its gears and points. Part of Vikal couldn’t believe he was leaving Nua again so soon, heading back to the foreign world he had been forced to travel to before against his will. But this time it would be his own choice.

  Vikal and Bahti had just tucked the anchor into its compartment below deck when a strange keening noise sounded behind them. Vikal turned in time to see the soul-eater rearing to life, bursting through the cloth they had wrapped it in. With tremendous speed, it darted towards the astrolabe, tossing Kemala across the deck with a powerful backhand.

  “No!” Vikal cried. The soul-eater turned its green eyes to him, seeming to understand his concern, his fear. He could have sworn it smiled at him, though it was impossible to truly see into the dark recesses of its helmet. The creature plunged its armored claws into the delicate mechanisms of the astrolabe and crushed the device beyond recognition before turning and advancing on the gods.

  “Kill it!” Bahti cried to the eagle, who perched atop the mast, its claws buried in one of the stays.

  “Wait!” Vikal screamed at the eagle, but it was too late. The bird of prey heard its order and dove, its claws burying into the exposed face of the soul-eater. The eagle launched into the air, its wingbeats blinding flashes of light. It wrenched the soul-eater apart with razor-sharp talons, pulling the creature’s head clean off its body with a pop.

  Vikal fell to his knees as the soul-eater’s head dropped from the eagle’s claws into the water with a splash. So quickly. His last chance had slipped through his grasp so quickly.

  The eagle screeched, stretching its wings, spiraling back up
towards the heavens. Its work here was done. The soul-eaters were dead.

  “It needed to die,” Bahti said as Vikal let out an incredulous laugh. The lights on the other vessels had gone dark. The last soul-eater in this area had died, and the energy to fuel the astrolabes had died with it. Now, the ships sat as floating hulks, dead pieces of metal and wood.

  He staggered to his feet, his focus narrowing on Ajij. “You,” he said.

  Ajij jumped at the intensity of Vikal’s comment. “What? I did nothing.”

  “No. You can help. You are the god of deep places. God of the sea. Get this sea to carry this boat to Kitina. As fast as you can. It is not too late to help Rika.”

  “Vikal.” The regret in Ajij’s voice needled at him. “Even with fair winds and tides and the help of the sea, I do not think…I do not think Kitina is on our world. Only someone who can navigate the stars can get there.”

  “No!” Vikal punched his fist into the railing, the wood splintering under the force of his blow. “There must be a way.”

  “Vikal.” Kemala’s gentle words scalded him. “It was a good plan. But there is no other way to get there in time. The boats have gone dark. It is over.”

  Vikal turned his back on her, on all of them, looking into the darkening sky. Somewhere, Rika was out there. Fighting. Dying. Alone. And it was his fault. Without meaning to, his third eye opened, and he saw the threads of Nua, of this world, stretching from him back to the plants and green things of the island. But threads stretched before him too, faint and thin. The tether of his totem, which had been a part of him and this island for so many years, now lost to him, clutched in some soul-eater’s hand. Lost to his progeny. The gods that would come after him would be weakened, always missing a part of themselves because of his failure today. And then there were the shining threads stretching from his heart leading into the distance. So strong and unyielding, he almost felt like he could pull himself upon them. Rika. His connection to her. They had never shone so clear before, with his eyes fixed on Sarya. But here they were. Proof of their connection—their destiny.

  He took the strongest tether gently in his hand, wishing with every part of him that he could jerk it towards himself and bring Rika flying. Or that she would do the opposite. But instead he ran his thumb along its fine filament, pouring every bit of sorrow and regret and emotion into it. “I will not be able to come. I cannot keep my promise. I hope you defeat them and have a long, happy life. I am sorry.”

  Somewhere in the distance, the thread trilled back at him. Rika heard and understood. It should have soothed his unhappy heart to know that she was still fighting, still alive. But it only made it ache more. To know she was out there. Only an impossible world away.

  “WE DISGUISE OURSELVES,” Rika explained. “Dress ourselves in their uniforms, sail one of their ships to the main galleon, where the queen must be waiting. Once we get as close as we can, I unleash the constellations on her. Kill her, the rest of them die, the thralls are freed. Done.”

  “Is it as easy as that?” Emi asked, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Why didn’t we think of it?”

  “What makes you think they’ll let us anywhere near them? The thralls never go anywhere without a soul-eater commander. Plus, our eyes don’t glow green. We’d be found out before we got close,” Daarco pointed out.

  Green-glowing eyes, Rika thought. She did know someone like that, though his eyes glowed with the lemon green of palm fronds and banana leaves, not the evil of these diseased soul-eaters. But Vikal wasn’t here. “They won’t see us until we get to the main vessel. Then, we only need a few moments to get onboard.” Rika jumped from her chair as a flash of inspiration hit her. “Run upstairs and grab the helmet of the soul-eater, will you?” she said to the nearest soldier, who disappeared from his post at the door to follow her command.

  “What are you up to?” Koji asked.

  The soldier returned, his chest heaving, the huge helmet in his hands. Rika took it from him, its weight almost too much for her. She hefted it aloft. “We find the largest soldier you have. He will be our soul-eater.”

  Koji shuddered. “You couldn’t get me to put that thing’s armor on for all the gold in Yoshai.”

  “You’re far too scrawny anyway,” Rika shot back, dropping the helmet onto the table, where it sat between them, radiating menace.

  As she went to sit down, a wave of energy passed over her. She stumbled, steadying herself on her mother’s chair.

  “Are you all right?” Kai asked.

  Rika nodded, sitting slowly. “Some of my energy has returned. The constellations I left behind have been released to the heavens. Most of them anyway.” There were two threads that still drew energy from her. What did it mean that Vikal had sent most of the constellations back into the heavens but had kept only two? Had they defeated most of the soul-eaters, but not all? Were they on the hunt? She desperately wanted to know what was going on in Nua. Were they safe? Had they freed the island? But in the end, it didn’t matter. They were there, and she was here. She needed to focus on saving her own people.

  “What do you all think about the plan?” Rika asked.

  Daarco shook his head. “It’s madness.”

  “So naturally,” Emi chimed in, “we love it.”

  “It is a bold plan,” Kai said. “I approve of it. Even with your power and constellations to assist us, there are too many soul-eaters to defeat one by one. None of us would be left in the end.”

  “Great!” Rika clapped her hands. “Let’s go.”

  “Aren’t we forgetting something?” Koji asked. “Like, how are we going to get from here to a ship that’s over a league away when we’re surrounded by soul-eaters?”

  “We’ll take Cygna,” Rika said. “It can carry more than just me.”

  “Fly your glowy star-bird to a ship that then approaches the galleon? I think even they might figure that out.”

  Rika frowned.

  “Koji is right. The constellation is too conspicuous. We have three koumori and one golden eagle here in the palace that haven’t been killed or fled. We will take them.”

  “Only four can go?” The number seemed so small. Four against the queen. Four against the destruction of their world.

  “I’ll wear the armor,” Daarco said. “The eagle should carry me.”

  “I’m going,” Koji said. “I want to stick this queen right through her eyes.”

  “Koji,” Kai said carefully. Rika knew that tone, and Koji apparently did too, because he crossed his arms and stuck out his chin even before she continued. “You must stay here. If Rika and I fall…we cannot risk the entire line of succession. You will be in command of our remaining forces here.”

  “You’re coming with us?” Rika asked. She knew her mother had been a great moonburner in her youth, but her father had done most of the adventuring for as long as Rika remembered while her mother handled the affairs of state.

  “Oh, yes.” Kai’s hazel eyes flashed dangerously. “These leeches killed my husband. I have a score to settle.”

  Rika and Koji exchanged a wide-eyed look. This was a side of their mother they hadn’t seen before. But it couldn’t be more welcome.

  They worked through the rest of the details of the plan—securing thrall uniforms, optimal timing, sharing the plan with the leaders who were staying behind to defend the palace. Emi was going to take the third koumori. When they finally finished the discussions and trailed out of the room to make their arrangements, a powerful message washed over Rika. She stumbled against the sandstone wall, leaning into it for support. It overwhelmed her—a flood of emotions so vivid that they competed with her own. Regret. Sadness and words left unsaid. Love. Pure, sweet love, an intoxicating elixir that took her breath and brought tears to her eyes.

  “Are you all right, my daughter?” Kai asked, laying a hand upon Rika’s shoulder.

  Rika shook her head to clear the surge of feelings. “Yes. No. I thought…I thought we might have reinforcements. It was a long sho
t; I don’t know why I even let any part of me hope. But it looks like he…like they won’t be coming.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kai said simply, and in those words, Rika knew her mother understood. That Rika had lost something…the chance at something. Someone.

  “I miss Father,” Rika whispered. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “He’s not gone,” Kai said. “He’s puttering around the spirit world, second-guessing our battle strategy, annoying Ryu with his pacing. He’s waiting for us. Cheering for us.”

  A little laugh bubbled up as Rika pictured the exact mannerisms her mother described. “We can do this, right? This plan can work?”

  Kai smoothed Rika’s hair back behind her ear. “It can work. We’ve been in dire straits before. We managed to find our way out then. We’ll do it again.”

  “To think of all the nights I spent wishing that prophecy would come true. That I would just get my powers.”

  “Power isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Kai said. “It usually comes with heavy responsibility.”

  “I should have listened to you.”

  “If you had listened to me, we might all be dead right now.”

  “Instead of all being dead in a day or two?”

  “That’s the spirit!” Kai said, wrapping an arm around Rika’s shoulders. “Now come, panda. It’s time to don our black.”

  When Rika returned to the courtyard atop the palace, Cygna was gone. She frowned, spinning in a circle. She hadn’t released him. Where had he gone? She could feel his thread far to the south, moving swiftly. Why had he left? She should return his power to the stars, to free her energy to summon other constellations. She opened her third eye to do so—

  “Rika.” She turned to find Koji standing behind her. He had washed the blood and dirt from his face. His beard seemed to be coming in fuller. How was it possible for him to look so much older in just a few days? Though she supposed she had changed as well.