Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  Kav stared at the tiny jewel nested in his right wrist: his twicrys. It glistened yellow. Was this what made him a “child of Nur?” Around the twicrys, his aperture slot shone silver. The twicrys and aperture made it possible for him to conduct sunshine through his body, like all the people of Eden. Of course, he had no memory of when the aperture slot was sewed into his wrist, but he’d changed his twicrys jewel a few times whenever the jewel dulled.

  The General continued. “Nur is the Light of Heaven, and all of us who conduct that light are His children — no matter what country we hail from. And as children of the divine, as holy brothers, we must all put the conflicts of the past behind us. When we unite as a people, when we focus on our specialties, only then will we be able to defend Eden.”

  Holy brothers? To Kav, that just sounded ridiculous. How could that explain the War of the Poets, and the Second Keldanese Uprising, and all the wars between the “children of Nur?”

  “And just what are these specialties?” the General continued. “Well, we know that the island nations, Necia and Keldan, are the source of ninety-five percent of Eden’s twicrys shards. Now that’s saying something. It’s saying that the islanders can focus on collecting twicrys, refining twicrys, and turning them into usable product.”

  Also, islanders are better sunlight conductors, and thus better fighters and military personnel. But no Shirmian would admit that.

  “And Almarians, by far the most populous group of our great Continental Empire. And also, the best metal workers. Almarians have got the best silicon threading technology, they make the best aperture slots, gain-mediums, conduction wells, wires — all that good stuff we need to power our military machine.”

  Kav felt a message emerge in his consciousness. It hit his mind’s eye, writing itself in his thoughts.

  Man, Almarian chicks are so damn hot.

  It was Kyars, messaging him again during a lecture. And it caused Kav to miss some of what the General was saying.

  Kav closed his eyes, channeled himself to Kyars’s frequency, and wrote his reply. Shining through the ceiling panels, sunlight hit his aperture and flowed into his twicrys, where it was converted it into radio frequency ready to be sent to Kyars.

  You really need to get laid.

  Kyars replied quick.

  This guy’s so boring, and you’re right, it’s been such a long time man, too long.

  “Then we come to the Shirmians inhabiting the nation of Devshirme, who compose the majority of Eden’s Continental Army, and the ruling house of his Highness — the Shahanshah. Nur Himself has given the Selukal House the power to rule over the entire continent. But we must safeguard that this rule never turns to oppression, for surely Nur punishes the tyrants. Which is why our great Shah has mandated that all the children of Nur be treated as equals in the Continental Empire.”

  Kav messaged Kyars.

  Equals? Everyone knows the Shirmas just step on whomever they want.

  Kyars rolled his eyes.

  Like I told you before, control that pride, or it’s gonna mess you up in this place. I mean look around, how many Necians in this hall, five? How many Shirmas, fifty? Can’t win with numbers like that.

  Indeed, the hall was a sea of Shirmian faces. A group of boys at some desks in the middle glared at Kav. More of Tusir’s herd?

  “This is by far the most important message I am here to convey. The peoples of the Continental Empire must NEVER fight among each other. Divided, our people can never prosper — it is the simplest and clearest theme throughout the history of all peoples.”

  At that moment, Kav noticed the General staring at him with his golden eyes — as if the man wanted to see into his core. A few seconds was all Kav could take before he flinched and looked away.

  “Cadets! The Barrier of Iskander, which has stood for two-thousand years, is fading. Already, the hole in the north is miles wide, and the Haemian hordes are ever-ready to pour through. If we don’t stand together, then we will never win in our struggle against the Plane of Haem.”

  Back to a much more interesting topic — Almarian chicks, you dig?

  Layla’s half-Almarian, so yeah, I do.

  Kyars, leaning back in his chair, almost fell over. The chair banged as he settled back into balance.

  Man, what the hell? You didn’t tell me your girl was half-Necian, half-Almarian. Damn Kav, my respect for you just quadrupled.

  Nah. Half-Almarian, half-Shirmian.

  Kyars took some time to think on that. A whole minute later, he responded.

  Go to hell. That’s a damned lie. What else you been lying to me about?

  Ain’t a lie. You should know by now, I always got my eyes on the prize.

  “Recall the destruction of the city of Razh sixty-four years ago, our first encounter with the Haemians. Why do the Haemians want to wipe us off the earth? We still don’t know the answer, even after sixty years of war. Haemians don’t negotiate, they only destroy. They don’t have a civilization, or a culture. They bring only death with them on the wings of their levships.

  “And that’s your passion, that’s the reason you fight. To preserve our civilization from their nihilistic darkness, to keep your loved ones safe, to sacrifice for the good of all the people of Eden. That’s all you need in your heart to be a soldier of the Continental Army, and a true son of Nur. Remember your true enemy before you even think of turning on your brother.”

  Nihilistic darkness? The hell does that mean? Man, I’m about ready to bust out of here. What do you wanna eat?

  Before Kav could reply, the General dismissed the cadets. Everyone got up and funneled toward the exit. The two roommates met in the middle as cadets rushed around.

  “Could go for some fish curry right about now.” Kav tasted it on his tongue. Smothered in ginger.

  “Man, really, you’re the biggest stereotype I ever met. The biggest, Kav. The biggest.”

  “Please, you know you want some too.”

  Minutes later, Kyars and Kav were stuffing down fish curry in the cafeteria. They ate with bread, dipping it into the curry, clasping some fish, then devouring the morsel.

  “So man,” Kyars said, “you decided whether you’re gonna throw the match this afternoon?”

  “There ain’t nothing to decide. I’m ending that Shirma.”

  Kyars looked around frantically. “Keep your damn voice down.”

  “Nah, anyone who wants to step up, can step up. The last thing I am is afraid.”

  “Kav, settle the hell down. You’re acting like one of the Keldanese. We ain’t savages like them. Us Necians know that we can beat the Shirmians at their own game if we just play along, instead of trying to overthrow the system like those fish across the pond.”

  Kav glanced away, unable to look Kyars in the eye — not after what he said. “Don’t hate on the Keldanese. They’re just like us. No different.”

  “They’re savages, Kav. Don’t give me that ‘reunification’ crap.”

  “Savages? What makes them savages? They’ve got the same blood as us! If they are then we are too.”

  “Yeah? How about when they killed all those kids they’d taken hostage at that school last year? Or the fact that their country is complete shit — hell, they don’t need to kill us, they’re killing themselves.”

  “Remember your true enemy before you even think of turning on your brother’.” Kav got up and pushed in his chair. “Anyway, I’m gonna go, conduction drills in fifteen.” He walked away, unable to look Kyars in the eye.

  “Now we begin the semifinal of the Ekrah Academy Annual Conduction Arts Tournament.”

  This guy covered in regalia was some kind of referee. But it’s because people like him didn’t do their job that Kav got that beating yesterday. With his opponent, Kav lined up facing the referee and a crowd of cadet onlookers. Behind them, the forest breathed out leaves, painting the world with foliage.

  “Remember the rules,” the referee said. “The blade you have in your hand is blunt, and the ga
in-mediums are toned down to allow only minimal levels of intensity. Not much more than a firebulb. You cannot injure or be injured by the conduction charge of the weapon.”

  The mock blade was of admirable construction. Slightly curved, like any standard CA scimitar. As usual, Kav would have to calculate for that curve. The gain-medium in the sword worked like a second twicrys, channeling sunlight from Kav’s twicrys so it could be fired off his blade as destructive energy.

  His opponent looked nervous. Like bugs crawled over his legs, he fidgeted so much.

  This is the end of your tournament, Shirma.

  “On your belt, there are four jewels colored blue. As you get hit by conduction, they will turn red. Once all four jewels on your belt are red, you have lost, and your opponent is the victor.”

  Just beyond the field, the cityscape of Ekrah adorned the horizon. Kav stared at what looked like a glass sword cutting through heaven. Known as the HEX Research Center, it was supposedly the tallest manmade structure in the world.

  Over one-thousand feet, more than a hundred stories, hell, we get Time Service from there. Stunning.

  “Physical combat is permitted during battle, but only if it is not injurious,” the referee continued. “And no one else is allowed in the boundary area while the match is underway.”

  Another one of the referees approached. Kav saluted and disciplined his stance.

  The referee led him into the forest with its varied terrain: little trails for maneuvering, trees to climb for height advantage, boulders and broken logs for cover. The forest with all its life would be Kav’s personal warzone.

  They stopped at the starting spot, somewhere at the eastern end of the boundary line. His opponent would be at the western end, three hundred or so yards away.

  “Get to it.” The referee blew his whistle.

  And it began. Kav filled his twicrys with sunlight and closed his eyes. Spectrum mapping was the first order of battle. Blade in hand, he channeled the sunlight through his aperture, keeping aware of the wavelengths. Low-frequency infrared compiled in his twicrys, and his blade now felt like another limb. He calculated a spectrum ping, his nerves surged, and he let it burst off his sword.

  It emitted off the end of his blade, unseen, pinging out in a circle. The light traveled through the entire forest before losing order and scattering. In the instant of a second, Kav’s aperture captured the ping echo of the forest and everything within it. Imprinted on his mind’s eye, the spectrum map was vivid and teeming with colors, showing the distances of everything and their movements and makings. With spectrum, he could see much more than his eyes ever could.

  Ugh...too much...

  The colors scattered about his mind and fizzled, losing the order of their pattern. The blue-shifting pattern of a moving human being indicated his opponent was on the western end — something he already knew.

  Ugh, can’t do spectrum properly right now. Eyes and ears will serve me better.

  Kav went west to meet his enemy. Furious leaves whirled around him. The wind’s roar was background music as he hunted for his prey. He ducked beneath a vine-infested log — decent cover. Pausing, he closed his eyes to give spectrum mapping another try.

  The infrared light burst out into the world and came back. Shaky lines in his mind’s eye showed the enemy to the northwest, less than fifty yards away. But Kav couldn’t get much more.

  Some people can tell if you’re chewing gum from miles away, I can barely tell man from tree.

  A twig snapped — northwest.

  Kav rose over the log to look. Nothing. No one.

  Leaves ruffled. Something ran at him — west. There was the Shirma — charging full force!

  Sunlight filled Kav’s twicrys. It surged through him and into his blade as he sliced at his foe.

  Direct hit. The light wave hit the boy. One of those jewels must’ve turned red.

  Too easy. Kav jumped sideways behind another log. The boy crept behind a tree.

  “Trees won’t save you, Shirma.” They didn’t do me any good...

  The Shirmian showed his face, in perfect position for Kav to let off a quick one. It flew off his blade — direct hit on the head.

  “This your best? I expect more from a semifinalist.” Kav untensed.

  End it quick and I’ll have more time to sleep and dream.

  He approached the boy’s tree.

  Hold...what if it’s a trap? Just like yesterday, they could be waiting to jump me again.

  The boy dashed out of cover, blade forward. A beam seared off. Kav ducked as the beam flew over his head. Sunshine danced in his veins. A wide-area burst would show some style. He changed the aperture command in his mind and let it out, a burst so wide it would’ve sliced the Shirmian in half — if these weren’t mock weapons.

  This was the reason Kav made the semifinals: great control over aperture commands. Unlike others who couldn’t “feel” how the tiny slot in the wrist interacted with the mind, to Kav and most islanders it was natural. All he had to do was feel the command he wanted. And that’s why this was all too easy.

  The boy, as if surrendering with three jewels in the red, dropped his blade.

  “What’s this now?” Kav kicked the boy in the thigh, sending him to the ground. “A trap? I won’t fall for this shit again.”

  “Stop!” the boy said. “Please!”

  “Tooth for a tooth Shirma, but first...” Kav prepared to conduct the game-ending bolt. But more than that, he was ready to get physical on this boy should anyone show up.

  “I’m not with Tusir’s guys.” The boy put his hands up. “I...please, listen to me, aright?”

  A quick spectrum check showed no one else in the forest. Just trees and birds and rocks.

  “Kav, right? Before you end the match, please listen to what I got to say.”

  “Say it already.”

  “If I lose 4-0 to an islander, I’ll never be able to live it down. So please, I’m willing to lose to you right now, just please, not 4-0.”

  “So what, you want me to friendly fire myself?”

  “Yeah?”

  Kav chuckled. “Okay, and you’re giving me...”

  “I’ll tell you something real important, that you ought to know about your next opponent. About Tusir.”

  “Hmm...do tell.”

  “What about the friendly fire? My 4-3?”

  “We’ll see how I feel.”

  The boy sat up and wiped dirt off his shoulders. As if he needed to look dignified to say what he had to. “You said you expected more from a semifinalist. Well, truth is, Tusir’s been intimidating or paying off all the best conductors to throw or drop out. And not just the islanders, even the Shirmians and the Almarians. He’s been rigging the jewels, the gain-mediums, even getting the refs to turn away. All to make sure he wins.”

  So that’s why yesterday happened.

  “So you’re just what remained,” Kav said. “Why is Tusir so intent on winning this meaningless competition? He really in it for the glory? Doesn’t seem like the type, to be honest.”

  “Dunno. I mean, I heard something. Could be why he cares so much, but it’s just a rumor.”

  “Yeah? Hurry it up, I’m intent to catch up on sleep.”

  “I heard that the competition this year is being observed by those masked people, the Magi. Rumors say the winner’s gonna get training from them, you know, in the secrets of the art.”

  “Masked people?” Kav said. “Could be true with all the sightings recently. Anyway, let’s do this business.”

  “I get my three?”

  “You do. One for the info on Tusir, one for the bit on the Magi, and a bonus because I feel sorry for your incapable Shirma ass.”

  Kav felt like an idiot hitting himself three times. Then he got his fourth on the Shirmian and walked out of the forest with a day’s work done.

  Back at the dorm, Kav took off his sweat-soaked uniform. Kyars wasn’t around; the guy had targeting exercises around this time or something.
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  Training from the Magi, eh? Too bad I already knew all about that.

  While walking to bed, Kav caught his own reflection in their little mirror on the wall. It was half-way cracked, so it looked like his head was severed.

  There was a crack on his body too: a cut on the flesh above his left breast. Kav fingered it. The skin was hard and grown over. A little bump could be felt in the center, that when pushed, was like stabbing yourself with a thorn.

  “Admiring yourself, pretty boy?” Kyars stood at the doorway in a dark-blue cadet jacket. “Half-Shirmian, half-Almarian wife...you damned stud.”

  “You’re looking classy too. The occasion?”

  “Had my clearance run today, brother. The sergeant had a word with me after. And guess what?”

  “You got it?”

  Kyars did a fist-pump. “Hell yes! I’m gonna be air artillery with the thirty-first. Flying high in the sky with the birds and the sun and the clouds and all that celestial fun.”

  “The thirty-first...that on CAL-409 by any chance?”

  “Dunno, but I don’t think the sky can handle both us fish on the same damn levship. The sky’s gonna fall or something if that happens.”

  Kyars came closer to stare at Kav’s chest. “Been meaning to ask, just what is that? Someone knife you in the chest?”

  Kav was still fingering the little bump on the scar, not realizing he’d been doing it the whole time. “Nah, my bond’s in here.”

  “Your bond? What?”

  “When Layla and I got married, we had the jewels sewed into our skin. You know, the bond. Like we do on the islands.”

  An astounded Kyars shook his head. “Kav, you from the jungles or something? Civilization passed you over? Man, the only person I know to have a damned bond inside them is my grandma. Seriously, that’s some real backwater shit right there.”

  “It’s old school. Me and Layla, we keep it old school.”

  “Shut the hell up. Old school my fish loving ass. It’s unclean if anything.”

  “It’s a part of our culture. Everyone on the islands used to do it before the Shirmians came and threw our way of life and culture into the sea, replacing it with their own.”