Heroes of the Crystal Star (Valcoria Book 1)

by Jason James King

  The journey back had been a long one, much longer than usual, for Etai seldom visited the eastern continent. Yet he needed to do it, for he had neglected checking the security of that part of his charge for far too long. Ironically, he had timed it too late, having failed to complete his task when the Call came, directing him back across land and sea to Salatia Taeo, thus making vain his pilgrimage to the ruins of Jidar. The fruitless round-trip had totaled nearly ten-thousand miles and cost him over three years. The arduous trek induced him to covet the gift enjoyed by the Saedan. There were several moments along the journey, one in which Etai had ridden a hundred miles inside a train car crammed with loud and foul-smelling livestock, when he would’ve given almost anything to be more like that tribe of the Kalyra. He was like the Kalyra now, and in some ways more powerful. But unlike the Kalyra, his gifts had more austere limitations of use; a frustrating knot of rules and restrictions that restrained him. They had limits too, though none so harsh as his. Still, he would have gladly agreed to more limitations had he been allowed access to the power enjoyed by the Saedan, the power to bend space.

  Etai glanced to the east, looking down a gentle slope that descended into an almost pitch black valley. Near the center of the Aldora Vale, Etai scoffed at that name, there was a bright dot twinkling like a star in the night sky. Salatia Taeo, the capital city of Amigus and technological envy of the world, Etai scoffed at that too. He seldom knew ahead of time why he had been called to a place, but it wasn’t hard to guess why he was needed here. Aukasia had launched a war of subjugation upon its brother nation. This in itself was not remarkable, for the two countries never had been allies. At best they enjoyed periodic “cessations of hostilities.” Unlike the past, however, the reward for the victor of this war would be more than securing borders or acquiring new territory. It was starting again, just like it had before. Someone in the Aukasian Empire had found the belt. Simple geography had led him to that conclusion, for Etai had hidden that piece in the ruins of a Cestra, a forgotten city interred beneath a mountain near the southern Aukasian border.

  Rumors Etai had heard while traveling through towns and cities en route to Amigus further validated his theory. From what he had gleaned, the events precipitating the Aukasian-Amigus war tightly conformed to the pattern of what occurred last time, a new leader unexpectedly rising to power by usurping the old government and then declaring war upon a rival country. Yes, it was definitely happening again. This war is just the beginning. Although sure of what was occurring, Etai was not yet certain who had came into possession of the belt.

  His first guess had been Emperor Lorta, the young prince who had ascended to the imperial throne under suspicious circumstance. It would have fit perfectly, except for the problem of the Aelic clerics declaring that their long looked for prophet had come, a man claiming to be the new Arch Sage.

  Etai sat on the cold ground thoughtfully facing the worn headstone. Whoever had the belt had either not yet realized or publicly used its true power, for he was sure he would have heard tell of that. Was it the prince, or was it the false sage? Regardless of who had it, they would soon be followed by others. Had he done enough to secure the other pieces? After all, Cestra had been one of his most secret and secure hiding places.

  “Foolishness!” Etai said aloud.

  If the end had come, then no matter what lengths he had gone to in order to prevent it, the Jihan Truik would be found. It had never been just a possibility but an inevitability. His duty had not been to prevent it from being discovered, only to delay it until the Arch Sage returned and the MiaJiann was found. That thought brought him a surprising measure of comfort. The end was coming, bringing with it the worst of calamities, but also the sweet promise of his rest. Soon, he would finally be able to leave Valcoria, and all his grief, behind forever.

  Rest.

  That prospect sent a thrill of excitement through his chest.

  Etai again assessed the condition of the granite grave marker. As he did so, he could not help but feel a metaphorical kinship with the old stone. He too was old and worn, though not by wind and rain, but by time and loneliness. Loneliness had probably been the worst part of it. He was in the world, yet was not part of it, not really. His world was gone, something he had begun to feel more keenly in recent years. That sense of utter isolation, combined with the weight of memory he bore mixed, to become something else, something more acute―weariness. Not a physical fatigue, for that was no longer possible, but a tiring of his mind.

  True to old habits, Etai had tried to mitigate his soul-fatigue with actual sleep. Since his change, it had proven hard to fall asleep. Having a body made of Dyn but sustained entirely by Jia had its drawbacks. He always had to coax his body to relax, sometimes for hours, in order for sleep to find him. This made the process into a difficult ritual he only performed on rare occasions when the mental weariness became too much. He would have worked at it more, but the Call didn’t leave him much leisure time, and then there was the nightmare.

  It was always the same and now came every time he slept. In it he could see everything with a vision that was simultaneously macroscopic and microscopic as he floated above the world as a disembodied spectator of a thousand horrors, each one played out before him with excruciating detail.

  There had been a man called Jahatu, drunk in an alleyway singing to himself a song that he had never fully learned, crushed as buildings collapsed upon him. A woman named Acaelia, burned to death by the explosion of a ruptured fuel pipe as she carried home her linens from a communal laundry. A small boy named Hoyt, riding his new tri-wheel, a gift to celebrate his eighth birthday, swept away in the roaring deluge unleashed by a broken dam. An infant girl named Saesha, miraculously born to parents who had given up hope of ever having children, starved to death in her cradle when those very parents never came again to tend her, they having suffered death in another part of their house.

  And there were numberless concourses of others, innocent and guilty alike, their dying faces all visible to Etai in one compressed moment of time. He drew in a sharp breath as a tear slid down his cheek. It was as if recalling the dream had caused it to play in his mind despite his being awake. Perhaps he was going mad. He chuckled at the thought. He had already gone mad, that’s what had brought him to his condition as a Silara.

  “I have instruction for you,” a female voice cut through the silence of the dark.

  Etai glanced up to see a woman wrapped in a brown traveler’s cloak standing before him. She appeared young, in her early twenties, with shoulder length, blonde hair, fair skin, and glowing crystal blue eyes.

  “I’ve not had dealings with you, before.” Etai said. “Who are you? Where is the old man?”

  The woman stared down at Etai, her face stern. “That is none of your concern. Suffice it to say that I have a personal interest in your new assignment, and have been granted leave to deliver your orders.”

  Etai conceded with a nod. “Well let’s get to it then.”

  The woman reached out her hand and lightly touched Etai’s forehead. Feeling as though he had been splashed in the face with ice water, a stream of images, sounds, and sensations poured into his mind. A sea of Aukasian soldiers flooding into an Amigus city near the mountains, was it Lisidra? A balding, fat man bowing to Emperor Lorta. An army armed with what looked like Niazeride hand units. How did they get those? A man garbed in white and gold robes beneath which he concealed the belt!

  The images continued to flash through Etai’s mind in rapid succession, increasing in their speed as the psychic contact began to crescendo. He saw an Amigus city laid waste and Salatia Taeo besieged. Last of all, Etai saw five people, people who would play key roles if the rising evil was to be checked. There was the broken soldier, the desperate son, the oath-bound man, the shining star, and the honest thief.

  Etai gasped as the woman withdrew her hand, breaking their mental link. “Do you understand what it is you are to do?”

  Etai’s eyes widened. He looked
up at her. “Does he know?”

  The woman shook her head. “And you are not allowed to tell him. He must discover it on his own.”

  “But his ignorance could prove dangerous.”

  “Right now, his ignorance protects him,” the woman said. “You are to offer guidance, and protection, but are not to directly interfere. Understand?”

  Etai’s gaze settled back onto the granite grave marker. “Then the time really has come.”

  The woman’s face softened as she glanced at the worn headstone. “I have also been passed a message for you.”

  Etai’s head snapped back up. “I am to receive a communication? I thought that was not allowed.”

  The woman shook her head. “Direct interaction is still forbidden you and will be until the end, but I am able to pass one message from her to you and back again.”

  “Tell me.” Etai almost shouted.

  “Be warned, I make no exaggeration when I say it is brief.”

  “I don’t care!”

  The woman paused before answering in a reverent tone, “She wants you to know that she loves the Heart Star.”

  Quiet tears rolled down Etai’s cheeks. “That is all?” He worked to keep the disappointment out of his voice, for the message had been to him what a few drops of rain must be to a man dying of thirst―a cruel taste of what he so desperately longed for.

  The woman nodded. “Have you a reply?”

  Etai considered it carefully. He would not squander this most precious of opportunities. Finally he said, “Tell her, I give it as my heart to her and will win her love or die of a broken heart.”

  The woman smiled a warm smile. “I will relay it to one who will take it back to her.”

  She vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.

  Etai stood and walked a few paces to his right where he had laid down an old leather satchel. He loosened the drawstring, opened the mouth of the bag, and carefully withdrew a small object wrapped in a silken handkerchief. He unbundled a small flower the color of moonlight, with angular petals reaching skyward in a star-like shape. The flower was a Devotion Heart Star, a species of lotus long thought extinct. Etai had stumbled across it amidst a group of water lilies floating in the fountain of an abandoned Kalyrian temple. He had picked it and then kept it alive far beyond its natural time of wilting by healing it each morning and each night. At first, he doubted whether he would be allowed to use the power of the Estadi in such a frivolous manner, but no restraint had prevented him from exercising it to keep the Lotus as fresh as when he had found it.

  In the ancient customs of the east, Heart Stars were given by a young man to the woman he desired as a declaration of his intent to court her. Tradition held that once given, the young suitor had only as many days as the flower had petals to win the heart of his love and convince her to marry him, else he would die of a broken heart. Etai carried the Heart Star to the grave and deposited it in front of the headstone. This flower had seven petals, but as much as he desired it, Etai knew his rest would not come in seven days and thus his heart was already broken. As Etai stared at the Heart Star on the ground, a thought occurred to him. He had kept it alive by tapping his Jia and transferring it into the flower. Could that also be how he was sustained? He too should have wilted long ago.

  The first rays of dawn crept over the east horizon. He turned to gaze upon a distant mountain range outlined in a nimbus of morning fire. If only this were his last day. The Call nudged him and he knew it was time to move on. Etai rose and walked way from the granite headstone, now adorned with a single flower, and hiked down into the Aldora Vale to begin the last leg of his long journey—the last verse of a very lengthy song. That thought lightened his mood and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so tired.

  Part II

  Yaokken’s beloved, Adariel, could not prevail upon him to turn from his mad course. Not even when she pled through bitter tears for him to remove the crown.

  Chapter 14

  The Shining Star

  Ashra tickled the exposed belly of a little read-headed girl, who squealed in delight. Her shirt was at least two sizes two small, faded, and warn. All the children of Salatia Taeo’s West Street Orphanage wore secondhand clothing donated by the local Istran ministry. At least it’s clean clothing. The girl’s friends called to her, and she jumped up and scampered away. Ashra smiled, standing to watch the little girl rejoin the group of children as they rushed over to another corner of the play-yard.

  Ashra Valadin, crown princess of the kingdom of Amigus, knew she was tall for a woman, equaling the average height of most men. In spite of this “flaw”, as judged by Amigus fashion experts, she was regarded as a striking woman. Songs and sonnets telling of her “marble-like” hazel eyes and her “lily-fair” skin. The language of aspiring sycophants and overzealous patriots. To the pragmatic princess, she was no different from the women of Amigus’ lower castes, set apart only by her material privilege. Consequently, she cared more for the opinions of laundry maids and orphan children than she did for the lauds of court nobles.

  As Ashra watched the orphan children play, she couldn’t help but muse on how she would have been one of them had her pedigree been different. She was, after all, just like them, an orphan. Her mother had died while giving birth to her and her father had been claimed by a sudden illness when she was still a girl. Ashra was thirteen then, eighteen now, and could not ascend the throne unwed until she was twenty years of age, something that would not happen for another nineteen months. Ashra would change things when she became queen and would put an end to the archaic caste nonsense that elevated one orphan while relegating another to a life of poverty simply because of the family they had been born into.

  “I haven’t seen that girl before,” commented Gyaden, the bald, hulking mass of muscle that was Ashra’s personal body guard.

  “She was not here last week.” Ashra absently hooked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “Her name is Lasyra. Matron Tenna said she was left here two days ago.”

  “By her parents?” Gyaden asked.

  “No one knows. Tenna found her wandering the halls, crying.” Ashra shook her head. “Sadly, it’s not that uncommon of a story, Gyaden. The mother was surely unwed, probably too poor or too scared to take care of her baby, so she did the only thing she could to ensure the child’s survival and left her here.”

  The two continued to watch the children play, Lasyra returning to Ashra a few more times to bring her gifts of dandelions or odd-shaped rocks. After nearly an hour, one of the assistants to the matron stepped into the yard and vigorously rang a large hand bell. The children reluctantly abandoned their games and coalesced into a grumbling mob before filing into the three-story brick building. Lasyra waved at Ashra before disappearing into the orphanage. Too many like her. What kind of life will she have? A member of the working class at best? A prostitute at worst? Probably like her mother. Ashra shook her head. It was an endless cycle of miserable poverty that Ashra would end when she became queen. She would shape the kingdom so that girls like Lasyra could escape that cycle. It would take years, perhaps her entire lifetime, but Ashra would destroy the oppressive Amigus caste system. The aristocracy won’t like it, she smirked to herself. They will accuse me of allowing my Istran beliefs to interfere with matters of state.

  Although the royal line of Amaeg had all been professing Istrans, very few of them had actually practiced their religion outside of ceremonial occasions. Her father had been different, however. King Valadin had been a faithful adherent and passed it onto Ashra by consistently taking her to worship services and expecting her to obey its precepts. Among other things, the Istran priests taught that all men were children of their Creator, and therefore of equal worth in his eyes. This doctrine, along with a strict code of moral conduct, made the religion very unpopular with the Amigus aristocracy who enjoyed their elevated status. Thus, it was not uncommon for members of the noble houses to be antagonistic toward the influence of religion, especia
lly as it pertained to politics.

  “Your Highness,” called a woman’s voice.

  Ashra woke from her thoughts, to find a thin, older woman approaching her. She had iron-gray hair, a rectangular face, and was dressed in a plain brown dress.

  “Matron Tenna.” Ashra smiled.

  The older woman dipped her head in a deferential bow. “The infirmary is ready for you, if you still wish to visit.”

  “I do.”

  “Then please follow me.”

  The Matron led Ashra and Gyaden into the orphanage.

  “I feel as though it is my duty to remind Her Highness that the council meets in less than an hour,” Gyaden said as he strode aside her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Gyaden chuckled. “I thought a reminder that the Ruling Council cannot commence without the princess when she is present in the city might be helpful as Her Highness has been late for the last two opening sessions of court.”

  “What I do here is every bit as important as the work of the Ruling Council.” Ashra paused, “Besides, I am the crown princess, they can wait.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” Gyaden smiled.

  The three passed through a small wood paneled foyer to climb a grand staircase on their way to the second floor.

  “He was getting better. The fever broke and the cough subsided until about three days ago,” Matron Tenna explained. “Now we have to force him to eat and drink, and all he wants to do is lie in his bed and stare. I fear he will not last the week.”