Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  A torrent from the sky exploded a nearby building. Kav’s ears filled with a numbing whine. Fire raged in silence. More buildings exploded deaf. Kav looked up at the new heaven. The ring, so perfect, encompassed every edge of horizon. A solid mass — the halo of death’s angel. It no longer moved. It glowed, so still, as the world beneath burned.

  Shit.

  He made it back to the train station, but the train was long gone. Kav looked around. There was one train car. In disuse, it sat at the base of the line. A blurred image, it was all he could run to.

  Kav climbed in. He put Saina on the floor. There were wires dangling from the roof. Maybe they could get the thing to move.

  But the sunsink clamp wouldn’t let energy flow. The clamp was a jaw, biting the cylinders. Kav jumped, hung his weight on it, pulled against it with all his strength. Too stiff, too strong. He fell to the floor. Weariness weighed down his arms. He looked around the car for something, anything.

  Saina still slept. Hair bloodied. A metal rod stuck out of the ceiling. Kav jumped and pulled on it. Snap. He banged onto the floor. He had it now, a rod with which he could pry the clamp loose.

  He stuck it in the clamp and pushed his weight against it. The jaw opened slightly. It opened more, and more, and now it was a wide mouth. It released its grip over the cylinder, clanked onto the wall, and ricocheted around. Almost hit Saina’s head — almost. Now for the wires.

  His left hand clutched one wire. The other wire, he squeezed with his right. His hands shook; he closed his eyes and willed the thing to move.

  It wouldn’t — his twicrys was empty. No sunlight flowed. Ouroborus consumed it all. He focused his will to absorb light. Into his twicrys, it trickled. Bit by bit, it compiled.

  No time.

  He willed the train car to surge, on the tracks, to safety. But it didn’t budge. He didn’t have enough light.

  I can’t. This is it.

  You can, let me help you.

  Not his thought. It appeared in his mind without a frequency. Another one appeared.

  Layla’s bond, in your pocket. Hold it in your hand, let it find light for you.

  But Kav didn’t want to listen to the whispers. Not after what happened onboard the 409.

  Kav — do as I say. I promise, you’ll live.

  You think I’m willing to trust you after what you made me do?

  Have you any other option?

  The Whisperer was right. Kav stuck his hand in his pocket to touch the bond, closed his eyes, and absorbed light. It filled his twicrys, surged into his veins, and fired up his blood. This light, it felt like her. Blue angel feathers fluttered through him.

  And finally the train car chugged. It rolled on the tracks. Faster and faster. It surged on, through the burning streets. Eyes closed, Kav clung onto the wires and wondered how much time the city had left.

  Shar, the Magus, and General Mehr stood atop the SADB Summit Complex, watching the black whale with the halo beneath it.

  “That ship, must be a new Haemian design,” the General said. “Their older stuff was more aero-dy — aerodinam — aerodynamic.”

  “Haemians conjuring Ouroborus?” Magus Asha, as strange a thing as the ship, almost floated off the roof’s edge. “They are adapting, advancing.”

  Ouroborus – an energy pattern that can destroy entire cities, only known to have been previously used by the Magi. Shar’s knowledge of it was limited. Supposedly it required some kind of ethereal understanding of conduction, more mystical beyond-the-realm shit that only Magi excel at. Anyway, this was a sad show. It was too much for Shar to stand here and watch a Continental city burn, with commentary.

  “I was on the front for seventeen years,” the General said. “The Haemians did the same thing day in and day out. Finally something creative.”

  “Magus Vahman was to be the watcher over Qindsmar,” Asha said. “Had he not been killed, he would have sensed the coming of that ship and thousands would have been spared. And since Magus Dahma has been gone for many years now, it seems the responsibility for protecting this continent falls solely on me.”

  Shar felt a headache coming on. When’s this shit gonna end? “For the past twenty minutes, I’ve listened to you two, and not once have I heard either of you ask the only question that matters. How are we gonna bring that thing down?”

  The ring became like a serpent. The serpent bit the earth and a bloody light splattered the sky. Then an earthquake rattled the forests and leaves whirled and the Summit Complex grinded side to side. Shar nearly fell. Asha was motionless. The General clung onto the rail. The light eclipsed the sun’s radiance; it surged endlessly, angrily, smoothly.

  And then it was over. Smoke appeared in its place, blotting out the whale ship.

  “Shit,” Shar said, as smoke rolled over the entire sky.

  “It’ll certainly come here next.” Asha headed for the stairs. “Let’s prepare a fitting welcome.”

  The General bent over like a man with a crippled back. “By Nur.” His mouth wouldn’t close; sweat beads dotted his face. “Not to worry. We’ve got plenty of firepower, five layers of defense rings around the base. Yes, no need to worry. We’ll bring the monster down.”

  They both left. Shar stood atop the world as smoke darkened it. “I have to say it...I miss prison.”

  Shar didn’t really miss prison. Four years ago, the day the Continentals came for him, he was resigned to what had to be. Locked in chains, aperture clamped, they tossed him into the brig of a levship. One headed for some dungeon in Almaria.

  His cell there was dirt and puddles of mud, enclosed by rusted iron bars. He wasn’t afraid of the time, nor the execution date. He sat in his cell, made a pillow of mud, and stared at nothing.

  Drip. Drip. A leak in the ceiling swelled the puddle. It expanded its territory in this tiny barred world. Whatever. Didn’t matter. Nothing did.

  His neighbors, surely, weren’t so positive. Eyes were downcast, expressions limp, gazes lost. Despair welled through the air like a collective current.

  The baby one cell over cried. Its mother, an Almarian girl, “shhd” it to stop. But it wailed and wailed.

  “Aaaash ghhh tammm.” She began to sing a Kalamic lullaby. “Aaaash ghhh tamm.” Whatever it meant.

  Shar closed his eyes. Sleep knocked on his skull. Out — his soul flew somewhere. Images of that place whirled onto his vision. He was back in that Keldanese city, but nothing was there. Entirely flat, it was just a slab of concrete — the whole island. Wiped clean by the Magi.

  When Shar woke, he was hungry. Not for food or water. This was a hunger for what sustained his sanity. Empty, his stomach curled in. He breathed in and out to regain himself, but the pain became worse.

  It felt like something inside his brain wanted to come out. Like a monster imprisoned in his skull was scratching its way to freedom.

  Shar wailed, then screamed. And wailed some more. With blurred vision, he saw a man at the door of his cell.

  “Shut it.” It was one of the guards.

  The man had a gut that stuck out of his buckled trousers like a ball. He wore a piss yellow Almarian constable uniform. The Emblem of Two Rivers shone over his bulging left breast.

  Shar grabbed one of the bars and pulled himself onto his knees. “Get me something. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll go get a stick to beat your ass with.”

  “Listen, I can pay you. I’ve got a man on the outside with the stuff already.” Colonel Aasad had set it up — the least the man could do. “In Qindsmar. You go get it for me, and he’ll pay you, equal to what you make here in a week.”

  The guard banged Shar’s hand, sent him thudding back. “Shut the hell up. I’m a man of honest labor.”

  “Do it, you know you want to. My guy’s a pharmacist, works in one of the hospitals. Okay?”

  “No, not okay. Shut your mouth and do your time.”

  Shar spent the next few hours in pain. He listened to the baby wail and its moth
er struggle to shut it up. And the lullaby — it soothed him too.

  “Aaaash ghhh tamm.”

  Later, the guard came back. He bent down, brought his face close to the bars. “Okay, where do I meet this fellow?”

  Shar gave him the info, and the guard left.

  A UHR of hell ensued. Writhing in pain, Shar listened to that baby go on and on. Shouting at it made it louder. So he splashed his face in the mud puddle.

  Somehow he managed a few drops of sleep.

  The next day, the fat guard returned. He threw a tiny vial through the bars. Shar grabbed it, opened the top, and sniffed the saqara tree oil.

  He wanted it inside him, all of it. He inhaled, until the monster in his skull calmed, the blur in his vision lessened, and he could grip his world again.

  “That’s all you’re getting,” the guard said, “once a week.”

  “Once a week? Listen, he must’ve given you more than this!”

  “That’s all you get, once a week.”

  The guard walked away. Shar sniffed and sniffed. Control yourself. He needed to savor this morsel for the entire week.

  “You’re worse than my baby here, without your drug.” It was the girl in the next cell. The baby slept in her arms. The tree oil’s life giving scent staved off the smell from that child. No change of diapers in there.

  “It’s all well and good now.”

  “You’re smiling like it’s your birthday. Is that little vial really bringing you so much happiness?”

  Shar hadn’t realized. “Why not? It’s all I got now.”

  Guards brought food. They pushed a bowl of water through the bars and tossed a piece of bread on the ground. Shar chugged the water. He chomped the bread, a brittle and harsh crust, as his stomach unknotted.

  For the girl and baby, only one piece of bread and one bowl of water were given up by the guards.

  “Please, give us a little more, for the child!”

  The guard laughed. “The little shit isn’t gonna survive anyway.”

  Shar watched as the girl tore off little pieces of crust, until they were tiny grains. One by one, she dropped those grains in the baby’s mouth. In that way, all the bread finished. With the baby on her lap, she poured the water down its throat, then kissed it on the cheek. Saved nothing for herself.

  Far enough in the wilderness, the train car breathed its last, choked on the track, coughed as it screeched to a halt. It wouldn’t move — dead for good. But it had saved them with its last journey.

  Kav disconnected and saw the world with his eyes again. A dank smell itched his nose.

  Saina’s eyes were open. A dull red that wouldn’t look at him.

  “How’s your head?” Kav asked.

  “It’s fine, I’m good.” The bleeding had stopped, but her hair was reddened. “What happened?” She glared at him — eyes bloodshot.

  Kav knew what happened. He felt it happen, saw it happen, breathed it. “I’m not sure. This line’s a cargo rail to the base, I think, so we ought to just follow the tracks. We’ll find out what happened at SADB.”

  She twitched all over. Her facial muscles shivered. A nervous little animal. “Okay.”

  He reached out to help her up. She stared at him; her gaze saw into his lie. Her irises flickered with angst, as if she knew he was hiding something. Then she grabbed his hand.

  Outside, the wilderness stirred around them. He helped her off the car.

  Saina looked up and down, left and right. “What do you think happened to everyone?”

  “They’re probably at SADB. That’s where those trains went.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She nodded, bit her lips. Then she closed her eyes.

  “Saina, we’re not in contact range.”

  She kept her eyes closed and body stilled. He gave her a minute.

  “Let’s just focus on getting there,” Kav said. “Okay?”

  She nodded.

  Kav felt his aperture fill. Sunshine inside him, he released a spectrum ping and closed his eyes.

  When the information came back in his mind’s eye, he saw trees, trees, trees, times a million. Railroad tracks swerved through the forest. He saw it all the way to SADB on an incredibly expansive spectrum map. Vivid and solid, as readable as light to the eyes.

  “Blue hell,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I can see the whole forest. I’ve never created such an expansive spectrum map before.”

  “I see...that’s good.” She rubbed her already bloodshot eyes.

  “Don’t.” Kav focused his attention on her. “That’ll just make it worse.”

  “I think I have allergies or something.”

  She ground her knuckles into her sockets.

  He pulled her hands off. She wouldn’t look at him.

  “The way you’re worried, I know, I’ve been in your place. Hell, I’m still there,” Kav said. “We’ll find out what happened, when we get to SADB. Until then, just bear it.”

  “But what if they’re all...what if...what if...”

  “’What if’ never helps. Look, I promise, I’ll get you back to your family, okay? So let’s go.”

  She nodded and followed him. A thought crept into his mind.

  What if...what if this is all my fault?

  The Summit Complex was a citadel perched over SADB. Its shadow cast over the base and reached into the forest. Once inside, Shar climbed the stairwell to Asha’s office. Two minutes early for his scheduled meeting with the Magus, he found only a vassal in the luxurious room.

  “Coffee while you wait, sir?”

  “Why the hell not?” Shar sat on a leather sofa.

  The coffee was brought cold.

  Shar gulped it. The coffee was sweet on his tongue, but bitter on his throat. “I was hoping for a hot, steaming cup.”

  “I’m sorry, I only desire to serve you as best I can. Would you like me to warm it?”

  Shar shook his head. “Look, I don’t like waiting. You know who else doesn’t like waiting? The Shahanshah. And he’s sitting on his throne, smoking a flavor, waiting for me to get this job done. So where’s the Magus?”

  The quaint servant didn’t lower his neck, contrary to Shirmian custom. It struck Shar as odd, such a stiff necked slave.

  “Impatience rots the soul,” the servant said.

  Shar was not feeling amiable. “The lone survivor of the levship crash, do you know of him?”

  The servant’s eyes twinkled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know of such matters. You will have to wait for the Magus.”

  Shar waited. Five minutes passed. The arrogance of these people. Twenty minutes. Where is that masked piece of shit? Twenty-two minutes. I’ve had it.

  Shar jumped up and cornered the servant against the wall. “I’m done waiting. Go find the Magus and bring him here!”

  Tremors in his eyes, the servant pointed his bony finger in the direction of the doorway. “Oh look, he’s just come.”

  Finally, or I would have killed this sad soul.

  But the doorway was empty. Shar decided it was time to get physical with this lying servant.

  And then his eyes were inflamed by truth. He saw a mask upon a shadow, with eyeless sockets. Shar jumped back, heart thudding.

  This was no servant. The Magus stood before him.

  “Asha!?”

  “Yes?”

  Shar stared at it in fear. From so close, the mask was captivating. It radiated a fierce blue light.

  “You look so afraid,” the Magus said. “So, I do scare you.”

  “It scares me that in this situation, you’d waste my time and yours playing games.”

  “What is life but a ridiculous game?”

  “Forget it. Take me to the survivor of the 409.”

  Moving clouds shifted the shadows in the room, darkening the mask of the Magus Asha. “Your heart is racing. Do these uncertain times terrify you?”

  “The Shah sent me to do a job. Despite what’s happened, I still need to do it. So let’s go,
on with it.”

  The Magus was absolutely still. “Those who have certainty don’t fear as others do. We’ve got hundreds of levships in the air, hundreds of thousands of deployed troops, and yet everything is spinning out of control.”

  “Spinning out of control? Look, just shut it and take me to the survivor.”

  The Magus shook his amorphous head. “The world of sight is the world of memories. What is sight but light hitting the eyes, and what are memories but the remainders of that light? Let those who have subjected light to their whim handle the gathering of information. We will find out everything from the survivor.”

  “Go philosophize with someone who gives a fuck,” Shar said. “The Shahanshah, Master of the Two Easts and Two Wests, ordered me to interrogate the survivor. You gonna get in the way of his orders?”

  “You know, I used to love philosophizing with Magus Dahma...but then you did what you did to him. Isn’t it fair that you give ear to my musings?” The Magus sighed. “But if it must be so, then come with me.”

  Four years ago, a week into his sentence, Shar began to lose it. Images of escape flickered through his mind, slowly evolving into fantasies of freedom. He was young, there was a world to enjoy. Who knows how much longer fate would keep him here? Why let it?

  If inside that vial of tree oil, a fresh twicrys bead could be smuggled...and if he could somehow unclamp his aperture...and break off one of those iron bars, use it as a weapon...

  There had to be a way.

  He examined the bars around him. Rusted iron — a conductive material. Not the best, but it could work as a weapon. He shook the bars. They were old, but firmly in place. He scratched the ground beneath; the dirt was hardened like clay. If he dug, how would he hide the hole?

  The baby cried again. It cried more often, and its smell got fouler each day. Watery diarrhea.

  The mother tried that lullaby again.

  “It won’t work,” Shar said. “Your kid is ill.”

  She bobbed it up and down. Its face reddened. It flailed its tiny hands.

  “I know,” she said. “They won’t give me medicine. They won’t give me food for him. They don’t even consider him a person.”