Heroes of the Crystal Star (Valcoria Book 1)

by Jason James King

  The three turned into a wide open doorway entering a large, rectangular room filled with beds, half of which were empty. Thank the Creator for that. The occupied beds were filled with sick and injured children.

  “Over there.” Matron Tenna motioned to a bed at the far end of the room occupied by a pale boy who looked about six.

  “Is the sickness catching?” Gyaden asked, a hand on Ashra’s arm to hold her back.

  Tenna shook her head. “We don’t think so. Some of the other children fell ill with similar symptoms, but all have recovered.”

  “Can I have a moment alone with him?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” Tenna dipped her head again and turned to exit the infirmary.

  “I’ll be just outside,” Gyaden said before following the matron.

  Ashra made her way over to the boy’s bedside. He was awake, but barely noticed as she pulled up a stool to sit. “What’s your name?”

  The boy broke from his aimless stare to look up at her. “Kace,” he said in a voice scant more than a breath.

  “And what’s the matter, Kace?”

  Kace’s only response was an uncontrollable fit of coughing.

  “Does that hurt much?”

  “I can’t breathe,” the child wheezed as his coughing subsided.

  He’s definitely dying, probably from an infection in his lungs. Ashra’s forced smile betrayed her grim diagnosis. She didn’t want to frighten Kace any further by allowing her emotions to reflect the seriousness of his condition.

  Visiting the infirmary had become a weekly ritual for her, in fact it was the real reason she visited the orphanage. Each week she would ask to be left alone with the sick and injured children, find the most serious case, and do what she could for the child. Fortunately, since her return, she had only encountered commonplace ailments such as broken arms or Hiska cough. She hadn’t seen anyone on the point of death like Kace in a long while and was worried that she might not be strong enough to save him. Then there was the question of what it would do to her afterwards? She had to attend court, something she couldn’t do if she were incapacitated.

  She had already been late twice on account of her visiting West Street, and it was earning her a reputation as an irresponsible and inconsiderate girl among the nobles of the court, something she had to avoid if she ever wanted them to take her seriously as their queen. Her political theory tutors had taught her that to have the authority of the crown was only one part of an elemental triad that she would need in order to successfully rule: the authority of the crown, the loyalty of the people, and the respect of the nobility. The first seemed the easy part, the second at least was possible, the third… well, being branded as a spoiled brat wouldn’t help.

  Ashra glanced at the door and then down at Kace. This would be a great deal more difficult than mending a broken bone or purging a simple illness. If she wasn’t careful, it very well could kill, something she had learned when once she had tried to revive a dead infant. That’s when she had discovered the limits of her gift, the attempt having drained her to the point that she blacked out. Her syncope had turned to be a blessing as it stopped the siphoning of her energy which allowed Ashra to narrowly avoid death. But left that poor baby lifeless. Ashra wasn’t sure how she knew that attempting to raise the dead could kill her, but instinct told her to never try it again. She had experienced less severe but similar reactions each time she administered to someone with a serious or life threatening malady. She had learned by those experiences to think before attempting any kind of healing, something that was very difficult for Ashra as she was an abnormally compassionate soul.

  Another fit of coughing from Kace galvanized Ashra and she committed to healing him whatever the cost. “I want you to close your eyes and think of your favorite game.”

  “Why?” Kace wheezed.

  “Because this will feel a little funny, but when I’m finished, you’ll be better. Ok?”

  Kace nodded.

  Glancing once more at the door to ensure that no one was watching her, Ashra placed her right hand on Kace’s feverish forehead, inhaled, and closed her eyes. As always, she focused on the malady, where it was affecting the boy, and then pictured what she wanted to accomplish: in this case, lungs free of infection. Responding to her invocation, a burst of warmth blossomed inside her chest, washing away Ashra’s fear and muting all of her physical sensations. As the warmth intensified, she willed it to extend into her arm, hand, and then into Kace’s body. Ashra kept her eyes shut as the energy flowed from her into the boy. Early on, she had discovered by catching her reflection in a nearby window, that using her gift caused her eyes to glow a crystal, blue color, something that would surely raise questions if witnessed.

  Kace gasped and his eyes widened as Ashra poured more of her energy into him. From what her patients had told her, the transfer caused them a tingling sensation that became more uncomfortable the more severe their malady. Somehow, by means of her gift, Ashra was able to sense the nature of the illness or injury, its severity, and the progress she was making in healing it. The worse the sickness, the longer it would take to cure and the higher the cost to Ashra’s constitution. Kace’s affliction was severe, taking almost a full minute to overcome and taxing Ashra more than she had anticipated. Fatigue settled in on her at an alarming rate, causing sweat to bead on her brow and her head to feel as though it were spinning. When she felt the boy’s infection clear, she ebbed the flow of energy and withdrew her hand. She opened her eyes and drew in deep, labored breaths. Kace stared at her, his face once again full of color. He extended a concerned hand and caressed her arm.

  “You okay?” Kace asked, his voice now strong and free of congestion.

  “I-will-be,” Ashra whispered between gasps. “How-do-you-feel?”

  Kace took a deep breath. “I can breathe!”

  Ashra smiled. “You mustn’t tell anyone that I cured you, understand?”

  Kace nodded. “I won’t.”

  “Good boy.” Ashra gripped the sidebar of Kace’s bed as she worked to stand.

  “Thanks,” Kace said, sitting up.

  Too weak to talk, Ashra nodded, taking two steps toward the door before she collapsed to the floor.

  “Matron!” Ashra heard Kace scream followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

  “Princess?” Gyaden’s bass voice rumbled. “Can you hear me?”

  “I am fine, Gyaden.” Ashra said as she struggled to stand.

  “Matron, send for the Royal Guard!” Gyaden shouted over his shoulder. “Tell them to bring a doctor. The Princess has…”

  “No, Gyaden.” Ashra rose to all fours. “I am fine.”

  “But Your Highness,” Gyaden helped Ashra sit up. “You are as pale as a ghost.”

  “I believe the term is ‘lily-fair.’” Ashra flashed a weak smile. “I did not eat my breakfast and so became lightheaded. I assure you, I am fine.”

  “I insist we send for the doctor anyway as a precaution.”

  “No, Gyaden,” Ashra shook her head. “There isn’t time. I must get to court.”

  Gyaden gave her a skeptical look. “I will not send for the doctor, but only if you allow me to carry you to your carriage.” Ashra conceded with a nod, to which the big man scooped her into his arms.

  As Gyaden deposited Ashra into her blue and white coach, she lay down on the leather seat and shut her eyes. Already, she felt her strength returning, but she wanted to rest the twenty minutes it would take for them to ride back to the palace. Gyaden climbed into the cab and sat opposite her. As the carriage got underway, Ashra could feel Gyaden’s worried stare.

  “I am fine, Gyaden. I assure you.”

  “That boy in the infirmary…”

  “Kace,” Ashra whispered.

  “He leapt out of bed and began shouting for help when you collapsed. Odd don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps he was not so sick after all.”

  Gyaden responded by grunting, and she was grateful that he didn’t p
ress her any further. He did not know of her gift, no one did. She had contemplated revealing it on occasion to close friends like Gyaden, Kaiden, or her chief attendant Renay, but she had never quite been able to take that step. She had wanted to, very much so, for the secrecy was emotionally burdensome. Yet, every time she attempted to talk about it, instinct warned her not to. She didn’t understand that but knew it to be correct.

  The carriage jostled Ashra as it passed over a patch of uneven pavement and she had to grip the door latch to keep from rolling off the bench. Kace must have been closer to death than I realized. I will have to be more cautious next time. Although the toll had been great, Ashra did not regret healing the dying child, for it made her feel as though she had a purpose in the world. Not that being queen was a small thing, but from what she had learned in her studies, monarchs had only the power to kill and destroy, she had the power to heal and to save. That made her different. That made her special. She didn’t fully understand what it was she could do or why, but she believed her gift had been given to her from the Creator and that it was His will that she use it to alleviate pain and preserve life. If only I had known my gift when I was younger, before Father died. That thought always haunted her, recurring each time she healed someone at the point of death. It pained Ashra that she had not discovered her power until she was fifteen, two years after King Valadin had died.

  Ashra’s thoughts ran back to that night just over three years ago, the night she had first felt the warmth of her power spark to life inside her chest. Renay had taken ill with a severe fever that proved unresponsive to conventional treatment. She had not been expected to survive the night. Traumatized by the loss of her father, Ashra had greatly feared losing her attendant, a woman that had been more of an older sister than a servant. In her panicked desperation, Ashra had called upon something inside her; something she hadn’t known was there. Using the newfound reservoir of energy inside her, Ashra had willed Renay to live. Miraculously, the woman’s fever broke and she recovered. Ashra had paid an unexpected physical price for her miracle, sleeping for two straight days before she was able to walk. That was when it had all started.

  “Gyaden?” she asked, her voice sounding stronger at least in her own ears.

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “How much time do we have before Alderman Ekale opens the court?”

  Gyaden hesitated. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Are we late?” Ashra sat up, anxiety clutching her breast.

  “You could say that.” Gyaden smiled wanly.

  “By how much?”

  “The bell would have rung about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Not again,” Ashra groaned. “Kaiden is not going to be happy about this.”

  As Yaokken began his campaign of conquest, the nations of the world were already at war.

  Chapter 15

  Specter of the Past

  Kaiden Ekale, Alderman of the Amigus Ruling Council, was a powerful man, the most powerful man in the entire kingdom. Hundreds of servants waited on him, lords of noble houses deferred to him, the fate of criminals was sealed by him, and armies fought at his command. Yet with all his power, Kaiden could not do something as simple as commence the week’s public session of court, at least not without the presence of the crown princess, who was once again embarrassingly late. He glanced at the bronze timepiece chained to his vest. I am going to give that girl a scolding she will never forget! He ground his teeth as he worked to appear calm. Well into his sixties, with pepper-colored hair and a matching gentlemen’s beard, Kaiden was not a harsh man. No, in fact he was known for his wise and patient council. He did, however, expect those around him to demonstrate the highest standards of decorum, especially future queens.

  Kaiden was a widower of twenty-seven years, patriarch of the greatest noble house in the kingdom, and Ashra’s legal guardian. This gave him the unique right and obligation to guide, teach, and even chastise the princess, a right he fully intended to exercise this day. Upon the death of King Tael Valadin five years ago, Kaiden had inherited both his custody of the princess and stewardship of the throne on account of his being the senior member of the ruling council. This position had given him the power to govern the kingdom but withheld from him the authority to amend or repeal any of the country’s laws. He was a steward, a placeholder only.

  In an effort to avoid the accusing stares of his fellow council members, as well as the confused looks of an audience of over five hundred, Kaiden glanced around the spacious chamber that was the Amigus throne room. Although he had visited the throne room almost daily for over forty years, the sheer enormity of it, with its vaulted ceiling supported by rows of thick marble columns, never ceased to awe him. When he was a young noble, he had been infatuated with the idea of becoming minister of city planning and building architecture instead of aspiring to political leadership. In this moment of vicarious humiliation, he wished he had pursued that fancy.

  Kaiden’s gaze dropped from the ceiling and settled on a large blue and white flag draped above the archway entrance to the throne room. There two mammoth, wooden doors, decorated with trailing, silver patterns, were propped open to allow the attendance of the public. Kaiden stared at the white eagle embroidered on the center of the flag and then let his eyes settle on a similar, though larger, symbol painted on the center of the floor. Would Amigus last long enough for Ashra to become queen? In public, he and the other members of the council put on a brave face, assuring the people that their military might was more than sufficient to repel the Aukasian invasion. That was, of course, a lie. Right now, tens of thousands of enemy soldiers were working their way toward the south city. He’d stationed General Dyon there with a large army, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to hold Sayel Nen forever. The Aukasian Empire was several times the size of Amigus in both territory and population. Even if Dyon successfully held the south city, it was only a matter of time before the enemy overwhelmed them. This would end up becoming a war of attrition.

  Resigning himself to the humiliation of it with a sigh, Kaiden finally met the eyes of his fellow councilors. They were seated in a semicircle facing the court, with the throne in the center like the keystone of an arch. Of course, Kaiden did not sit upon the throne, to do so meant death for one not of the royal line. Instead, he sat to the right of it, in a seat reserved for Council Alderman. He glanced at his colleagues, all of whom bore a variation of the same frustrated expression. There were twenty-seven in attendance, he counted, feigning taking roll in an effort to stall. Josten and Hyal were excused on account of illness, he recorded on his ledger, and Kyren, Soma, and Dalial were visiting the warfront. And where was Kolser, he should have…

  “Kaiden!” hissed a woman’s voice from the other side of the throne.

  Kaiden looked to his left and found Yudenna Kala leaning forward, her ivory face aflame with anger. Although a woman in her late forties, Kala’s smooth skin and voluptuous figure belied her age, making her look years younger than she actually was. She had raven hair, dark eyes, and wore a distractingly low-cut dress of black silk. As second in council seniority, she held a seat to the left of the throne and enjoyed great influence with the other members of the council. However, Kaiden thought this may be in part due to her shameless flaunting of her womanly virtues.

  “Yes, Yudenna?” Kaiden whispered back.

  “She’s almost a half an hour late.” Kala cast a furtive look at the waiting audience. “Invent an excuse and dismiss the public.”

  Kaiden glanced again at his time piece. Kala was right. I will have words for that girl later! For good measure, Kaiden waited until Ashra was the full thirty minutes late before rising to address the court. As he called for the attention of everyone in the room, he noticed the crowd at the back shifting and moving. They parted to reveal a pale-looking Ashra striding toward the throne dais, her protector Gyaden trailing a step behind her. She looks sick. A stab of worry doused his anger. Despite how infuriating Ashra could be at times, and
no matter how often she caused him concern, Kaiden loved the princess as a daughter and much of his frustration was only that of a protective parent and devoted mentor.

  Kaiden remained standing and was joined by the rest of the council as they all rose to greet the princess. She climbed the three wide steps ascending the throne dais, mouthed “Sorry,” to Kaiden before whirling gracefully to face the crowd and take her seat on the large blue velvet-upholstered throne. Kaiden nodded, and the other members of the council took their seats. He glanced once more at Ashra’s face, noting again her sickly appearance. Trying to ignore his mounting concern, he focused his attention back to the court.

  “By the grace of the Creator’s light, may the throne remain protected by our founder’s blood and our kingdom continue free. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the other members of the council and crowd repeated.

  “I, Kaiden Ekale, Alderman of the Ruling Council, hereby commence this session of the council and open the court to our scheduled petitioners on this the twenty-fifth day of Aylor, ten twenty-six G.D.” Kaiden glanced down at his ledger. “The court shall first hear from Lord Dyar Akealden who desires to petition the council for the acquisition of the aqueduct and sewer maintenance contract held by the late Lady Syta.” Kaiden sat. “Lord Akealden?”

  A fat man dressed in a fine gentlemen’s suit stepped from the front of the crowd. He approached the throne dais and bowed first to the princess before turning to address the council. “My lords,” he said in a nasally tone. “For the past five years, Lady Syta has held an enviable contract, one that she was unable to―”

  The fat lord was drowned out by a sudden eruption of gasps and murmurs from the crowd. Kaiden looked to the back of the throne room to find the assembly of petitioners and spectators parting to give a wide berth to an unshaven man wearing a dirty hospital tunic and soldier’s trousers. He held a bulging, dirty satchel in his left hand, and was followed closely by a blonde boy with a dirty face. Trailing behind the man and the boy was another man, this one tall, bald, and dark-skinned. He was bound at the hands and flanked by two members of the Royal Guard.