Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  “CAL–56 is down! We’ve lost communication with CAL-11, but visual confirms it’s still in the sky.”

  “More evacuations requested across the levlines.”

  Four officers continuously shouted the happenings of the battle, standing still as they watched it unfold on their spectrum maps. Another four shouted about the status of the other levships in the sky, and kept open channels for orders.

  “The Summit Complex has been hit!”

  “CAL–212 reporting that some kind of shield is absorbing all attacks. Requests a halt to firing.”

  General Mehr had only one response. “No! Keep firing dammit! And what’s the status of the Summit Complex?”

  “Sir! CAL–9 is down! That takes the toll to six levships. Twenty remain in the sky and eighteen on the ground. Two are in use for evac.”

  The human toll of only a few hours of battle startled Shar.

  It takes fifty conductors to power a medium-class, and six have been destroyed already.

  “Report in! Summit Complex is on fire! Ground crews are working to get it under control.”

  “By Nur.”

  “The target has stopped in the sky. 2100 feet above ground.”

  “That’s its lowest point so far. It’s still 200 feet higher than anything we got.”

  The General clasped his hair. “We’re not going to win if this keeps up.”

  “Sir! There’s an enormous heat buildup around the target!”

  “Heat buildup?”

  “It’s increasing, some kind of charge.”

  “Pull back everything!”

  Shar gazed at what looked a new sun shining next to the sun.

  “It’s been released!”

  Time seemed to freeze. The sky outside flashed white.

  “I’ve lost contact with MD–212, CAL–G52, and CAL–4.”

  “I’ve lost contact as well. With every ship.”

  “Sir! According to spectrum we...this can’t be right.”

  “What?”

  “According to spectrum, there’s nothing left in the sky except four ships and the target.”

  “By Nur.” The General covered his mouth. “Confirm it.”

  “Recon says over a dozen ships were hit simultaneously by some kind of explosion.”

  Hundreds of lives — gone. This is going nowhere.

  The General pounded his armrest. “Get everything else in the air! This time, double the firing rate. I want the backup ships stationed north to come in at maximum speed and perform a blitz. And where the hell is Magus Asha?”

  “My poor General.” The Magus Asha materialized right behind him. “Things are not going well for you.”

  “Wh-where’ve you been?” The General’s face paled.

  “Me? I’ve been plotting how to win this fight, and I see you’ve ordered a blitz. I’m impressed, you knew what I was thinking.”

  The mention of “plotting” startled Shar. Just what was Asha up to?

  “The blitz is now our only option,” the General said. “That damned monster won’t go down!”

  Asha’s shadow trailed across the room as he floated toward the viewing panel. “A blitz is good, because it will get ships closer to the target. But don’t think throwing a few more stones at it is going to work. Use the head Nur gave you. That ship is using some kind of shield technology, one your weapons can’t penetrate.”

  Pressure welled beneath Shar’s feet. The ship began to accelerate.

  “Why are we moving!?” the General said.

  Asha spread out his amorphous arms, as if trying to embrace everyone. “It’s not right to make everyone else do the fighting. We’re taking part in the blitz too.”

  Shar couldn’t accept that. “Asha! You can’t be serious!”

  “I am.”

  “But we’re supposed to retreat to Kostany from here!” Shar said. “The Shah demanded we deliver the Magus slayer to him!”

  “Don’t be so cowardly. If you’re going to let others die for you, be ready to die yourself.”

  And then he was gone. Shar stared at the window panel. There was only the crystal sky, and the floating whale ship.

  I’ll kill him and Dahma, again, if I have to!

  Four years ago, a few weeks before Shar killed Dahma, the Yanisari went undercover in Keldan to destabilize the Shirmian occupation. If the Keldanese were to rise up and cut the supply of twicrys to the Continental Army, then the Shah’s regime would further break apart. And that would prompt the rise of a new Shahanshah of the Continental Empire.

  “You don’t have a poetic bone out of your three-hundred,” Humayra said. She always wore red because it matched her hair, along with the bloodiest lipstick, but here she seemed out of place.

  Because the air was green. Emerald sand blew off the surface of the beach, covering everything. The sand here was of many different layers, each layer a different color, and when the wind blew, it always turned to that color. They called it the Lucent Winds.

  “What are you saying? I’m all about poetry.” Shar drew shapes on the ground. He took a handful of emerald sand to get to the ruby layer beneath.

  “Then tell me,” she said, “why’s a place so pretty filled with so much suffering?”

  “Shit, who knows. We’ll change all that.”

  A grin snapped onto her face. “So poetic.” Humayra flung some ruby sand at him. He threw emerald sand back.

  They returned to camp. Colonel Aasad gave them orders. Shar was to act as the go-between for the sale of TEX weapons to the Sons of the Deep.

  He arrived at the meeting spot twenty minutes early — a bad habit. A horde of worshippers surrounded Saint Ad’deen’s shrine, pressing their cheeks against the marble wall. The dome blazed white beneath the sun’s gaze. Shar waited next to a withered tree.

  “ON THIS TREE, OUR SHEIKH FOUND NUR’S LOVE,” read the plaque. But what a dead tree, chaffed and dry like a fossil. And did he really find it on the tree? What kind of sheikh climbs trees? Whatever.

  Shar listened to the worshippers wail for thirty minutes. Praising Nur and reciting recitals, they yearned for the dead saint’s intercession.

  Then they came: around a dozen Sons. Kav among them. Of course, he’d grown since the last time. A handsome kid, like his father. A face with innocent luster, not yet scarred by the world.

  Their lieutenant spoke, a grimy young guy with too much gel in his hair and acne around his lips. “You Shar?”

  “That’s me.”

  “We can pay twenty-five for the dolls. Thirty-two for the bears. Forty for the sticks.”

  “Damn, you youngins sure are direct. But that’s how I like it. I’ve got a surprise for you. We’re willing to bargain down.”

  “Bargain down?” The acne boy glanced at his troop, sparkles in his eyes. “You’re telling me that YOU want to bargain down?”

  “We’re not in it for the money,” Shar said. “Keep your shards in your pouches. It’s a free lunch.”

  “My pops always told me there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

  “Yeah? Well fuck him.”

  The guy smiled, showing his cavities. They discussed terms and shook hands. The deal was done.

  Shar eyed Kav intermittently. Enough to believe he was actually there, but not enough to come across as some kind of boy lover. Each time, Kav looked at him with curious apprehension.

  Even after all these years, Shar still had his frequency. But he didn’t dare message him. He watched Kav walk away with the troop, out of the shrine, and onto the streets of Kerb. A city about to end.

  With her ear pressed against the cold metal door, Saina listened to the shouts from the bridge.

  “Another hit to the ground — temporary medical faci — Summit Complex.”

  She banged on the door with the cuffs around her wrists. She hit it again. And again. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “What’s happening!?” she said. “Someone answer!”

  Aliya, Uncle. What if...

  “Saina,” Kav w
hispered. His face was red and it seemed he had a fever. “Where the...where are we?”

  She didn’t know whether the turbulence shook her, or if it was her nerves.

  “One stop before hell.”

  “We can get off at the stop then.”

  He didn’t seem entirely here. His eyes rolled around, closed, and opened.

  “What if Uncle and Aliya, what if—”

  “What if the world ended right now.” Kav’s head fell to the side, dragging his body. “’What if, what if.’ I hate that word.”

  She crawled over to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  His lips and cheeks were puffed and limp.

  “I can’t feel myself. I’m numb all over. Saina, you should let go.”

  “Let go?”

  “Like your uncle told me. Fanaa. Annihilate your connection to everyone. Break every bond. Let go. Be nothing. So you won’t have to hurt again.”

  Uncle was never good at following his own advice. He knew these teachings of the Qandari Tariqa in depth, but would rage if he couldn’t find his favorite incisor.

  Kav continued, “That’s what I’m gonna do from now on. I’ll be free, of everyone and every love.”

  If Aliya and Uncle were gone, then she really was free of everyone she loved. Except for...

  Abba.

  Her abba was too strong to die. The day he left, his half of Zulfiqar sheathed in his belt, a Tariqa cloak draped over his back, Dad said, “I’ll be there for you, when it really matters. I promise.”

  It had never mattered more.

  “MD-125 has been incinerated!”

  “This is straight suicide!” the General said. “All the blitzing ships are getting caught in that beam.”

  Shar could see it through the viewing panels, a blade slicing the sky. From the belly of the whale, the beam projected like a sword across the levline. It cut everything. The only ships left were performing a high-speed maneuver, raining a barrage of cannon fire at the target — a blitz.

  “MD-67 is down!”

  The enemy ship dwarfed everything as it hovered like a monster from the highest heaven. The clouds were tiny puffs adorning its cloak. It was a celestial presence, radiating something inhuman. What are we fighting?

  A few ships remained ahead. Just then, one got hit.

  Sparks burned on the clouds with a deafening shear. Like a saw, the beam sliced the ship and scattered it into char across the sky.

  They all must be trying to outmaneuver it, but it’s just too large. There’s no way through. I have to see Kav, I have to tell him the truth...if this is the end.

  General Mehr stooped in his captain’s chair, sweat on his collar. He stared at the ceiling, palm on his forehead.

  “Just who is in command here?” he said to Shar. “Is it me, a general of the CA? Or you, the Shah’s representative? Or is it that Magus? Who is really calling the shots, in these final seconds?”

  “The Magi do what they want.”

  “I serve the Empire, you serve the Shah. But who do they serve?”

  But it wasn’t the Shah he served. And whoever the Magus served, he couldn’t let them win. I can’t let anything happen to Kav. Telling Kav wouldn’t make it better. He had to save him.

  I must stop the prime conductor.

  Shar rushed toward the prime conductor’s chamber. On the way, he bumped into an officer.

  “Let me off! Open the hatch! I don’t want to die!” The young officer grabbed Shar by the shoulders, then pushed his head into Shar’s chest. As if that would save him.

  “Get off!” Shar pushed back and sent the officer tumbling.

  “Please! Kill me! So I don’t have to burn!” The officer clung to Shar’s shirt. He was about Kav’s age, but without a grain of his valor.

  Shar unsheathed the sword on his belt. It was his new sword. Zulfiqar. Its pink shimmer seemed no virgin to taking life. With the hilt, he struck at the hand of the officer.

  But the officer wasn’t there.

  “You missed.” A dark whisper. Magus Asha appeared out of nothing. The hairs on Shar’s neck stood up.

  “Ash-Asha! More of your games? At a time like this?”

  “This is how I express myself.”

  “Express yourself? You lost it? Call Dahma off the blitz!”

  “You think too highly of yourself, Shar. You always thought you had the upper hand against us. We dance in circles around you, and your master.”

  “What does that matter now? You Magi aren’t as miraculous as you think. You’ve lost against...that thing outside the window.”

  “Have we?”

  Shar pointed Zulfiqar straight at Asha’s mask. “Move.”

  “Fine. I have something to do anyway.”

  Asha turned the corner and disappeared. The door to the prime conductor’s chamber was all that stood between Shar and Magus Dahma.

  Four years ago, a few weeks before Kerb was destroyed, Shar bumped into Kav. It wasn’t fate that conspired the meeting. Shar followed him, from the Palace on the Shore back to some alley in the slums.

  Kav tensed when Shar appeared on his path. The boy’s cracked-emerald eyes twinkled. “Look, I’m not that kind of boy, okay? And if you try, I’ll kill myself and you.”

  “No, it’s not that. I have to tell you something.”

  Between them, planks lay in a puddle of water. The sun’s gaze steamed the water into vapor, filling the air with the aroma of moist wood.

  “Get out of the city,” Shar said.

  “Why?”

  “Because a war’s about to start...and you ought not to die here.”

  “I’m a Son. I’m ready to die for my country.”

  “Countries don’t matter. People do.”

  The boy ruffled his nose, stuck it out with pride. “Screw off.”

  Shar did. He returned to plead with Kav a few more times, but words wouldn’t dissolve the boy’s pride. Shar knew if he didn’t act, then Kav would die with the city. Colonel Aasad had told him that the Magi would surely respond in Keldan.

  But that wasn’t what worried Shar. A day earlier, while lying down in the ruby sand and holding his hand, Humayra said she saw Kerb burn; that a jinn pricked her forehead and showed her. Camel shit of course, but her eyes weren’t lying.

  And that scared the hell out of him.

  So Shar decided to sneak aboard the Magus ship docked at the military harbor in Hyseria. With some of the money from the weapons sales, he bought thirty-five HEX black absorbers from a black market vendor who sold flowers as a cover. Like some idiot, Shar covered his clothes with the black absorbers. The Magi would surely see the black hole, but it was worth a try.

  Fate conspired his way be free of obstacles. He simply walked off the harbor into the ocean, and swam through the seaweed and salt, until he arrived at one of the eight sides of the black ship — the Hasht. It seemed to stretch across the sea, and when close, he couldn’t tell where each side started or ended.

  Shar felt his way to an escape hatch. With his blade, he conducted fire and melted the welding off the hatch clamp. Inside, he found himself in the belly of an alien world.

  Spectrum mapping returned no information because the whole ship was a black hole. Everything was metal black. Black light lit smooth passage ways, where there were no doors, just mazes of twists and turns.

  What madman built this thing?

  In the midst of his wandering, the thing took off. Pressure pushed Shar to the floor. The Hasht roared. The walls throbbed with black light. Shar got up, unsheathed his blade, and continued his search.

  Hours of traveling through the floating city made him weary. At each turn, he expected to find a Mask waiting to end him. But each turn led to more twists and turns, like some kind of game. Finally he found what he sought.

  An enormous orb spun in the middle of the hall where his target stood. Black lightning crackled around it. The wires at its base were tethered to the branches of a shedding tree, wearing a tin mask. The Magus Dahma.

>   It didn’t speak. It didn’t open its eyes. Shar expected it to light him on fire with a single gaze. It slept beneath the spinning orb, absorbed in piloting the ship. Shar raised his blade right at the neck of the creature.

  And then he conducted a burst. Its head sliced clean off. Red syrup erupted from its chaffed-oak neck. The tin mask rattled on the floor as it corroded. An old face appeared in its place. A twisted old tree face, a thousand wrinkles beneath one eye.

  The ship crashed in the ocean. But Shar had acted too late. He climbed out and swam to the beach of a burning city. A city punished by Ouroborus.

  When he told Colonel Aasad about what he did, the man was furious. The beast in him almost strangled Shar. With the Colonel’s fingernail marks freshly reddened on his neck, Shar was told the plan had worked. Shah Sulayn had committed suicide before the Yanisari took hold of the palace in Kostany. Aasad congratulated Shar.

  Then he clamped Shar’s aperture, chained him, and sent him on a levship to the new Shah of the Continental Empire. A man named Orchan, who only spoke from behind a drab olive curtain.

  “You’re a hero,” said the man behind the curtain. “For the first time, the Magi were made to seem weak. Not only for supporting a suicidal Shah, but now it’s known that they aren’t invincible.”

  The man loved apple flavored tobacco. He breathed it in and out.

  “But unfortunately for you, I still need the support of the Qandari Tariqa. Without them, the Selukal House loses its divine right. You understand. The sheikhs want the Magus slayer executed.”

  “Your executioner can’t kill me...” Humayra had told him as much while lying on ruby sand, holding his hand. “...I know the circumstance of my death already.”

  “Oh? Good. Imagine the courage that kind of confidence inspires. It’s too bad we can’t use you.”

  Too bad. Fate conspired him to that dungeon in Almaria. On the way there, he thought of Kav, only half believing that the boy with cracked-emerald eyes made it out.

  Saina noticed a plastic shutter across the room, the kind that covered the windows on passenger levships. Outside light seeped through its edges. Kav breathed in sleep next to her, while she fixated on the shutter and told herself not to open it.