Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  “But when the War of the Poets ended, my father had the sword split into two, the other side made its own sword. So there you have it. I spared you the long version of the tale too.”

  “War of the Poets? Your pops was quite the warrior then.”

  “Hah! Think you know about the War of the Poets?” Nizan had the kettle boiling, his hand on the stove’s handle conducting heat into it. “All the tales we pass down over here, all the things my father told me, isn’t anything like what you know, boy.”

  “I don’t know nothing, never said I did. All I know is what the Continentals tell me.”

  Kav sat on a pillow, put his head on his knees, and closed his eyes.

  “The Continentals must’ve filled your mind with nonsense and lies. I’ll tell you the truth, and you take it back to your Continental Army. We Almarians, we were winning the war. Had land up to two- to three-hundred miles north of the two rivers. We were at the gates of Kostany itself. My father ate corn from a farm just outside Kostany, while waiting for the city to surrender. We would’ve won, and things wouldn’t be this way.”

  “Oh? Then why’d you lose?” Sleep marched around Kav’s head and threatened to invade.

  “We lost because of what the Magi did.”

  Kav’s eyes flung open. “Magi?”

  “What they did to the city of Elkaria.” Nizan handed Kav a mug of tea. “Elkaria was our factory, where we produced most of our levships and weaponry. Elkaria was the heart of our war, and as long as that city was running and as long as those people were creating and motivated and filled with belief, we were going to win the war. No questions asked, even your islands would’ve come under our reign. What history would’ve been then...”

  Kav sipped some tea — gingery and sweet. “What’d they do to Elkaria?”

  “What’d they do? Over the city, with the Eight Sides of Hell — their demonesque levship — they unleashed the weapon Ouroborus and devastated the whole city. Worse, the Shirmian army camped around the city and killed everyone who fled.”

  “They did to Elkaria what they did to Kerb.”

  “It was a warning, the Magi said, to all the people of Eden. That we ought to stop fighting and unite under the Selukal House, the so called true rulers of Eden. Because, they said, Eden would soon face a crisis that would bring it to its end, and needed to be united to win. For that, Elkaria was put to the slaughter.”

  A giant cart, piled with bodies as high as the HEX Research Tower, each body burnt and charred, children like sprinkles at the top — Kav pictured it. Was that what it was like to die in Elkaria?

  “What crisis?” Kav asked.

  “Haemians, of course. Whatever they are.”

  “I don’t get it, how is it that the Magi can annihilate entire cities?”

  Nizan pointed at Kav, snapped his fingers. “You said the word. The Magi have achieved perfect fanaa. They have no desires, no fears, they have annihilated themselves, their personal identities, their nationalities, so that nothing stirs in their souls. They’ve taken the concept to its very limit.”

  The mug rattled in Kav’s jittery hand.

  “So, now that I’ve shared, you tell me — what the hell are you fighting for with the CA? Don’t you realize they’re oppressing your people too?”

  Tea ran down Kav’s throat, soothed it. “What am I fighting for?”

  Footsteps. A girl entered the room, her irises like red stained glass. She smiled at Kav. “Everyone ready?”

  Saina’s cinnamon skin had stayed smooth through UHR. How was it she seemed so fresh while Kav felt so dead? She couldn’t have slept much more.

  “Little Sinny, you seem vibrant for someone who spent the night adventuring.” Nizan handed her a mug.

  Little Sinny?

  She replied with something fierce in that other language.

  “She’s telling me not to call her that in front of you,” Nizan said.

  “Uncle!”

  “What? You are little, just accept it. You’re the one always telling me to accept things, so you should accept that at least.”

  Kav laughed and sipped some tea.

  “Let’s just go!” Saina said. “Isn’t the departure time in like fifteen minutes?”

  “Please, trains in this country leave half an hour late at minimum. The prime conductor’s probably still asleep, dreaming about piloting the train.” Nizan Uncle patted her on the head.

  She grimaced. But somewhere deep down, she must’ve smiled.

  Meanwhile, a prisoner had just arrived at the Imperial Palace in Kostany — the capital of the Continental Empire. Still in chains, the prisoner sat on a seat beneath a great fountain. He waited while listening to the faint hymn of a monastic choir singing in the distance. The tune was a calming chant for someone who had endured so much.

  The fountain sprayed him with mist. Soothing, like a sip of freedom. He breathed the coolness and stared at the endless cycle of water. It was a fountain that would never stop, like a life that would never perish.

  A woman approached. She was dressed in a red gown and veil that matched her eyes. The bangles on her feet jingled.

  She sat next to the prisoner. “Shar...you made it out.”

  “Did you doubt?” the prisoner responded.

  “No, did you?”

  In all these years, she hadn’t aged, still a youthful shell over a mature soul.

  “No,” he said, “my faith never wavered.”

  Shar didn’t want her to see him fettered. Legs tied, hands bound, he gazed at the ceiling. Plants hung from the high dome. Flowers perfumed the air, sitting above Shirmian arches.

  “You went through so much, for all of us.” A disheartened breath lingered in her voice. “If I could’ve done something, I swear I would have.”

  “There’s no point in saying that now.” His gaze fixed on the black marble floor.

  “I see. Well, he will see you now.”

  It was time. Shar rose from the seat. He turned to look at the woman, probably for the last time. “I wish you a good life. Peace.”

  A Yanisari guard waited beneath an arch. He escorted Shar down a turquoise hall, toward a double-door.

  “I’ve been instructed to remove your chains before you enter.” The guard bent down and unlocked Shar’s feet.

  Freedom breezed through his calves. Then his hands were unbound. He raised them and let them fall to his sides.

  The guard took out an unclamping device. It looked like a can opener fused with a pair of pliers. “One more thing.”

  Shar held out his right wrist. The guard stuck the device around the clamp over his aperture and pulled. The black clamp clattered onto the marble floor. For the first time in years, Shar felt sunlight flow through him. Tingly and warm.

  “You are free to go inside.”

  The double-doors opened. Darkness seeped out. Shar entered the poorly lit room. A curtain divided the middle, a voice came from behind.

  “Sit.”

  Shar sat on a pillow and faced the curtain. A dusty curtain, the color of olives. But the seat was of resplendent taper; it had tiny sewed-in mirrors and patterns of birds.

  Gruff breaths, from the man behind the curtain, became the only sound.

  “You ever considered changing your name?” the man said. “It’s one letter removed from my title.”

  “I like my name, you change your title.”

  “Still as bold as ever.” The man blew smoke. An apple aroma. “There’s a pipe near your armrest, if you want some.”

  “I appreciate the offer.”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard the offer yet.”

  The man inhaled; Shar could hear the smoke fill his lungs. Then the man slipped a paper under the curtain.

  “A deed of freedom. You’re no longer a vassal of mine.”

  The words said as much. Shar folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Time to go. He had something he never thought he’d get.

  “Wait,” the man behind the curtain said. “Listen to what I
have to say.”

  “Should I really? After everything I went through for you people. I expected more, frankly.”

  “That’s why you should sit and listen. If not, you’re free to go, a free man. But I have words for you.”

  Shar got comfortable again, but not too comfortable. “Okay, speak them.”

  “I want you to work for me, as a free man. As an agent of my will.”

  “I decline.”

  “Of course you do.” The man exhaled a massive puff. “So, you been keeping up with the news?”

  “I know what’s been happening. We get the newspaper.”

  “But you don’t know what’s been happening. There’s a lot more to it than what gets printed in the everyday news.”

  “Like what?”

  “For starters, a Magus was killed a few days ago.”

  Ice melted down Shar’s spine. “You serious?”

  Massive inhale. Puffed out. “Magus Vahman was piloting the cadet levship that crashed.”

  “Vahman.” Images of the monster known as Vahman streamed through Shar’s mind. A phantom, with rings clinging to its neck, on a beach bathed in sunlight. “But...who killed him? Why? Who could kill a Magus?”

  “That’s what I want you to find out, you’d know. Before the Uprising, we would have celebrated the death of a Magus. But today, with the Haemian threat as dangerous as ever, we can’t defend two fronts without them. It’s a matter of our survival. So, does this interest you?”

  “Why me? You really think, after everything, that I’m willing to be your dog once more?”

  “Why you? For the same reason you spent the last four years in a cell.” A sigh of delight across the curtain spewed out smoke. “That’s why. And I don’t want your loyalty. You owe me nothing, and I owe you everything. That’s why I’m letting you in on this. What are you going to do with the rest of your life, Shar? Move back to Necia, start a farm? I know you can’t stay away from this game, I know you can’t say no.”

  Shar rubbed dryness out of his eyelids. “So...what else doesn’t get printed in the everyday news?”

  “The levship crash, a survivor was found. I shall give you my Selukal Seal. You’ll travel to the South Almaria Deployment Base, find out all you can from this survivor about how the Magus died, and who killed him. Of course, you will have to search out this incredible Magus slayer. And when you capture him, bring him to me.”

  Sweat trickled under Shar’s armpits.

  “And Shar, keep aware. The Magus Asha has made his home down there, at SADB.”

  “If Vahman is dead...with Dahma gone...then Asha is the last one.”

  Another sumptuous sigh of delight, breathing out apple scent. “Correct. But don’t get too happy — Asha alone is stronger than all the other Magi combined, except for you know who.”

  “What about the Haemian attack on the tower? What’s the real deal on that?”

  “Haemians were never your thing, Shar. Forget about it. As far as we know, unrelated to what you’re pursuing.”

  “Unrelated? Are you kidding? Even I know that—”

  “Like I said, forget about it. Now go. You leave tomorrow.”

  Shar left the dark room and returned to the hall with the fountain. The choir still sang — hymns about life. A bell chimed. Already, he regretted this arrangement.

  On the train, Kav and sleep wed happily. He drifted off while Nizan lectured about fanaa.

  He dreamt of that grave again. This time, black covered the sky, and he was digging the grave with his bare hands. The mud was wet, as if it had just rained. All of a sudden, a hand stuck out of the mud and grabbed his arm.

  “I’m waiting for you, Kav, in the Garden,” Layla pulled herself up and out. Mud sparkled on her thighs. “Kill every last Magi, and the way to me will open.” Her sapphire eyes were the brightest thing in the world.

  Screeeeech. Kav woke, jolted by the grind of the tracks. A city surrounded him outside the window. A metropolis, like Ekrah, but yellower. He noted the unique architecture. Too many structures had perched domes, hardened mud seemed to construct everything, and some of the buildings were draped in glass. It was made even shinier by the rivers, which shimmered with sunshine. On a hill now, the train steamed toward the city.

  Nizan’s lecture still echoed in his head.

  Fanaa — the annihilation of the self into the light of Nur. The annihilation of the body, of the mind, of all identities and attachments, into the divine radiance.

  Whatever that meant.

  Fast to control your desires, keep your senses pure, become your consciousness and turn off your ego. Stop being you and become a vessel of the sun.

  If it made him stronger, why not?

  “Kav — time to get off.” Nizan tugged his shoulder.

  Saina stretched and yawned — red irises wide open. Her face was too fresh for someone who’d spent hours asleep. How did she keep her hair so intact?

  Whatever. As they got off the train, stuck inside a horde of passengers, Kav took the opportunity to ask her what was on his mind.

  “When do I get to talk to that guy?”

  “Huh? Oh, the sheikh. You know how my cousin is getting married, that guy’s gonna be there so I’ll introduce you.”

  “The wedding is at 19:00. Isn’t there some way I can talk to him before?”

  “Umm, well, he’s a busy man, we’d have to track him down. Yeah, dunno how easy that’s gonna be.” She bit her lip. “Look, just stick with me, it’ll be fun, okay?”

  “Fun?”

  Now in the terminal, Kav followed Nizan and Saina through the crowd. That’s when they were ambushed.

  A little girl assaulted Nizan at his flank. A runt of a boy ran at Saina head on. From behind, a young man in black seized the old uncle at his neck.

  “Let go!” Nizan croaked.

  The young man spun him into an embrace. “The ride was well I hope?”

  Nizan picked up the little girl with one hand and held her close. She kind of looked like a mini Saina, but her hair was a bit lighter and skin a tad darker.

  “You know these trains, very rickety. The useless band of thieves we call a government are building ruby palaces while the trains rust.”

  Saina held the boy; his legs dangled in the air. “Mirza, how’d you get so big? I can barely hold you!”

  “I’ve been eating steak and working out!”

  “Woww!” Saina said. “Amazing!”

  The little girl looked curiously at Kav from Nizan’s clutch. He smiled at her, but she remained stern. Like his drill sergeant, she stared him down — lips tensed, not even blinking.

  “We have a guest with us.” Nizan gripped Kav’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “This here is Kav, our islander guest in town. He was headed to Qindsmar, so I thought he ought to come with us. I’ve invited him to the wedding too.”

  “I’m Atash.” The young man gave Kav a firm handshake. He seemed like a younger Nizan, but he was city folk and wore a tucked in button-down. “What island you from?”

  Kav scratched the stubble on his chin. “Oh, Necia.” It took him a few seconds to recall the name of the island he pretended to be from. “Riau Island.”

  The guy nodded like he didn’t know the difference.

  “Atash is my second cousin’s nephew,” Nizan said. “Soon to be wed!”

  “Ah,” Kav said, “congrats.”

  Saina had the boy against her shoulders. “And this is Mirza.” She rubbed the little girl’s hair. “And here is Emmi.”

  “Hello Emmi.” Kav waved at her. But he got no response, just an unyielding stare. In fact, she may have been shaking her head, very, very slowly.

  “Let’s go home!” the boy said. He struggled in Saina’s grip, but she only tightened her hold.

  “Patience, okay?” She rubbed her head against his. That seemed to calm him.

  Atash and Nizan went to the wedding hall, while Kav and Saina and the kids stopped at a jewelry store. Kav checked out some fine jewels si
tting inside a glass box. An emerald crescent overshadowed everything — a ridiculously opulent centerpiece — surrounded by smaller jewels of every hue.

  “I didn’t get her anything.” Saina shook her head. “Can’t believe I waited till now. What do you think?”

  “I think...” Kav eyed a silver bracelet studded with a fat topaz. Next to it glowed an oversized ruby necklace. And next to that, a thin ring strutted a massive emerald. “Ahh...”

  “Well? Tell me!”

  “The...” The emerald was cute. He pointed to it.

  “That? Seriously? Have you no eye for subtlety?”

  “Subtlety? This place is about as subtle as a bear juggling pineapples while riding a shark.”

  “Hehe...you have a point.” She blushed.

  All this jewelry hurt Kav’s eyes and made his nonexistent wallet cry. He turned around, only to see the little girl staring at him with giant eyes.

  What was her name again? Uhh...

  He cocked his head to the side, smiled. She stared into his soul. He smiled wider and showed his teeth. She blinked once. Her eyes could burn a hole through him.

  “Come on, let’s go.” Saina poked him. “This is all too expensive.”

  Kav checked Time Service. 12:04. Seven hours to go, till maybe he could feel free.

  Outside, a woman wearing a red bandana shouted about ice cream for “only one rubiyya!” She had her cart parked at the shop’s entrance.

  Carts for everything lined the narrow street. A fruit vendor stacked watermelons into a triangular pattern. Knockoff versions of the jewelry in the shop were displayed openly. People streamed through, holding their shard pouches, rubiyya flowing between hands.

  “Ice cream — only one rubiyya!”

  “I want.” The little girl tugged Saina’s dress, first time she said anything all day.

  “Okay,” Saina rubbed her head. “Mirza, you want some too?”

  “No! I don’t eat ice creams, not good for you!” The little boy flexed his muscles.

  Saina opened her shard pouch and frowned. “Shoot, no change.”

  Hmm? Kav felt inside his pockets. There was that pouch with Layla’s bond, and beneath it, something miraculous. He took it out: a flat sliver of crystal. The number one and the Almarian Emblem of the Twin Rivers adorned its front — a one rubbiya shard. “It’s like Nur put this in my pocket, just for this moment.”