Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  “That’s why I brought you here. Go to Zauri. If she’s dead, replace her immediately. The spares are in the adjacent rooms.”

  “As you command, sir.”

  “I’ll transmit the decryption phrase for the lock. You must copy the exact transmission to disarm the lock. This is my master code and will allow you to perform every single function on the ship. You are now the enforcer of my will. Take that to heart.”

  The steam thickened, eclipsing the outline of the Patriarch.

  “I knew from the moment I recruited you, Merv, that you were chosen to bring our people home. You have a destiny, and though the others may not believe it, I know it to be true. Go now, O’ Opener, and save us.”

  The Patriarch transmitted the description into Merv’s consciousness, a unique string of information difficult to reproduce. Outwardly, as words, they simply read, Every soul shall taste death.

  Was this an endless hall? A perpetual light blocked all sight a few yards in the distance. All Kav knew was that they walked through a mystery — the Haemian ship, the bringer of countless ruin. Adrenaline coursed through him, keeping him in the moment. And then he saw a body on the floor, dripping with blood.

  Saina yelped and looked away. More bodies appeared as the light veil gave way.

  The flesh smelt of blood and char, burning like the wound of an intense projection. Blood flowed two ways; the projection had gone straight through the stomach. The dead guy wore an unfamiliar black uniform, lacking identifiers. The blade clenched in his lifeless hand was also an unfamiliar design. But his face was unquestionably Almarian.

  The rest of the dead were clearly of the same army.

  “There was a battle here,” Kav said. “But these soldiers are Almarians.”

  “Almarians?” Saina came closer, covering her nose with her sleeve. “They do look Almarian.”

  “Were they from our ship?” Kav rubbed his chin. “The Haemians must have killed them.”

  Shar looked at the body and chuckled. “Is this what he meant?”

  “What who meant?” Kav asked.

  “Never mind. Let’s keep walking. Standing still is getting me anxious.”

  They continued down the hall. Bodies appeared where blood spurts painted the walls. Kav copied Saina and covered his nose and mouth; Shar walked freely.

  “If my guess is correct,” Shar said, “then only five survived from our ship. We went in headfirst, so only those of us who weren’t on the bridge made it. Us three, and Dahma and Asha.”

  The mention of those Magi irritated Kav. “Those monsters are here?”

  “There’s something I didn’t tell you. Maybe you can help me understand. Something Dahma said. That this ship isn’t Haemian. That it’s an Elkarian ship.”

  “Elkarian!?” Kav and Saina said in unison.

  “Khaal sta!” A shout echoed through the hall.

  Outlines appeared in the light. Kav froze. Soldiers in black emerged, blades drawn.

  A soldier shouted something in a foreign tongue. More soldiers emerged from the rear. Kav huddled toward Saina and Shar.

  With an urgent coarseness, the soldier shouted again.

  “What the hell is he saying?” Kav asked.

  Saina tugged on Kav’s shirt. “He’s speaking Kalamic. He wants us to drop our weapons and lie on our stomachs, wrists out in front.”

  “We’re surrounded.” Shar dropped his blade, raised his hands. “So we better do as he says. Tell him we surrender.”

  Saina shouted something at them. Kav carefully put Zulfiqar down. Even in this situation, it was too pretty a sword to handle carelessly.

  The soldiers approached; one took all their weapons. Another one waved some kind of flashing-red device over Kav. Then the soldier moved on to Shar and Saina.

  They shouted among each other. Saina spoke to them in that language, probably trying to calm them.

  It didn’t seem to work. A few minutes later, the soldiers had them march.

  Elkarians? How the hell?

  Kav looked back at Saina. Her eyes were fearless, her expression resigned; as if nothing went through her mind but the madness of the present.

  The back of Shar’s head was still bloody. Kav imagined what his expression looked like. He’s smiling. He’s trying to control his smile, to play down how at ease he really is.

  They stopped at a place that looked no different from where they started. Blood stained the floor, but there were no bodies. A soldier trailed his finger on the wall. Sparks flared when he made a zigzag pattern.

  The wall opened. They were led into a small, circular room. Six soldiers entered with them, and the wall closed.

  Shar whispered, “Saina, ask them where we’re going.”

  “He told us to remain silent,” she whispered back.

  The room started to ascend.

  “Just ask.”

  “Naeda kaalm!” One of the soldiers wound up, ready to strike Shar’s head. With the hilt of his blade, the soldier came down upon Shar, who remained still.

  Kav didn’t want to see it happen. Shar was hurt enough. In the midst of a second, he rushed at the soldier. And then there was blood.

  It swam through the air in the enclosed room, spattering every wall. Kav only saw flashes; lightning strikes cut the soldiers into heads and torsos. He pushed Saina to the wall, shielded her, and pressed his face against the cold steel.

  The cries stopped. The clamoring of metal came to an end. Kav only felt the room moving up and Saina’s warmth against him.

  “Thanks for getting out of the way.” Shar stood blood-covered, Zulfiqar in his hand. Beneath him lay disconnected limbs and severed heads. The smell was vomit-inducing. This room was a puddle of death.

  Then it stopped moving.

  “Have we arrived?” Shar said. The room started moving down. “No?”

  A few breaths later, it stopped again, and the wall opened. A hallway appeared. Sweet music played from a door down the hall.

  Merv caught up with the shouts and clamor. It seemed like a combat operation. Soldiers stationed against the walls were planning area sweeps to advance their defensive positions.

  “Communications officer Merv reporting. What’s the situation?” Merv asked a soldier at the rear.

  The soldier eyed him cautiously. Most Emigrants did. “We’ve been trying to contact the bridge to no avail. We’re cut off here, and we’ve noticed lots of conduits have been damaged or destroyed.”

  This one seemed a well-bred patriot. His hair didn’t reach farther than his scalp, and he had a broad Elkarian forehead.

  “By what?” Merv asked.

  “I didn’t get a good look at them. But reports say between two and ten enemy conductors. They’re interfering with our communications, we’re not sure how. I don’t know.”

  “How deep have they advanced?”

  “Into the core of the Atrium, it’s a closed zone now — everything inside’s been barricaded. Save for the spine passage, the Atrium’s cut off. You can tell, they’re trying to drain the ship’s energy, just look at what they did to the conduits here.”

  The conduits leading into the Atrium glowed with the conduction of every soul. But where the conduits had been destroyed, only soot and smoke remained. These conduits transmitted energy to every region of the Maymanah. They coursed it like veins, exuding sunshine. From afar, the color was of sand — like granules in an hourglass, every grain a will. But all wills were controlled by one, and thus the ship, empowered by all wills, could have a single direction. That one will, the prime conductor, wielded all the energy into a single velocity, into a single purpose.

  They must be cutting their way to her. Zauri — they won’t just kill her, they’ll destroy the energy stores and the Maymanah will go down.

  “I need to get inside the spine. Are the ladder wells still open?”

  The soldier nodded and pointed to a shaft in the ceiling.

  The air made Kav’s skin clammy. At first he thought it was smoke coming from the d
oor, but the air was moist.

  Saina walked in front. “What is this...steam?” She continued toward the door. This hallway seemed different, adorned like the interior of the incredible Palace on the Shore in Kerb.

  And there was that sweet music.

  “Who would play music at a time like this?” Kav asked.

  This is it, Kav. This is the culmination of your struggle. This is the way to the Garden.

  Kav heard the whisper in his mind, and ignored it.

  “I can’t make a spectrum map,” Shar said. “We have no idea where we are, or if we’re going the right way.

  Kav closed his eyes and focused on his spectrum map. Nothing appeared. “I can’t see anything either.”

  “Then we might as well just see for ourselves.” Shar opened the door.

  A hot, white cloud poured through. It filled the hall. Kav could no longer see his comrades.

  “You guys okay?” he asked.

  No response.

  “Shar? Saina?”

  Nothing.

  His shoes plushed onto something soft, mud-like.

  The hell did they go?

  The sweet music was coming from the other side of the room. He followed it.

  Kav grasped the handle of Zulfiqar and moved through the haze. In some places, the floor was muddy, in others, it felt like twigs.

  “Shar!? Saina!?”

  The walls echoed back, “Shar-Shar-Saina-Saina-Saina.”

  Something twinkled in the air: a firefly. It glowed sun-orange and moved in the direction of the music. Kav followed.

  This is just like...that dream...

  The haze began to clear, and Kav saw the outlines of things. He couldn’t figure out what they were, but something stood ahead. Something vast that rose to...the sky?

  The otherworldly tree stood before him. Its branches pierced the clouds, and the colors of its leaves vivified in the fog, raining from a hazy sky.

  “The cloud was on the earth, when Nur dwelt with his servants for a time.” Someone said. The voice surrounded Kav, coming from everywhere. He spun around and unsheathed Zulfiqar. Someone approached through the fog.

  “Kav!” Saina’s red eyes penetrated the white haze.

  “Glad you’re okay,” Kav said. “Where’s Shar?”

  “Right here.” Shar stood beneath the otherworldly tree.

  “We really should hold hands,” Shar said. “I know it’s childish, but—”

  A man stepped out of the fog and approached the tree.

  Shar spun around, blade forward. “So you’re the man behind the fog. Show yourself!”

  “Going near the tree is forbidden,” the man said. “But I won’t punish you, since you are guests.” He wore a black uniform like the others, but with gold buttons and a red trim.

  Kav, Shar, and Saina stepped closer together.

  Shar greeted the man with a whimsical smile. “And you are?”

  “I’m the caretaker of this garden full of delights, which we partake in to soothe our longing for home. You can call me by my name, Rohimna.”

  The man looked young, but sounded old. His hair was black and skin pale. And he had the long, slender nose and big eyes of a typical Almarian.

  “Are you the one in charge here?” Saina asked.

  “I am indeed. You know, you three don’t seem so threatening.”

  Shar scraped the ground with his sword, puffing up some dirt. “We’re civilians who happened to be onboard the same ship as the crazies who crashed into you. We just want to get out of here, off of this levship. If you could help us do that, we’d be grateful.”

  Rohimna inhaled, as if smelling the flowers. “Do you like this fragrance?”

  Kav hadn’t noticed, but it smelled like roses. They bloomed beneath the tree.

  “It’s real lovely,” Shar said. “So, can you help us? We don’t want to get caught in the fighting, we just want to go home.”

  “But we may never get another time to talk. And I’ve always wanted to meet someone from Eden.” Rohimna gestured toward the floor in front of him. There was a glass table and chairs. They weren’t there a moment ago. “Sit, and let’s chat.”

  “Chat about what?” Shar said. “Did you people come here for dialog? Then why all the destruction?”

  Rohimna touched his chin and nodded. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

  “I have a question,” Saina said. She clenched her fist. “Why’d you do what you did? Why’d you destroy Qindsmar and kill my people? Aren’t you Almarian too?”

  “We are not Almarians.” Rohimna shook his head. “We are the one’s indwelling of Nur, made of Nur, who are Nur. The sons and daughters of Elkaria.” He spread his arms wide. “You see, Nur dwelt in Eden for a time. But His servants hated Him, and so they sought to destroy Him. In the end, they only exiled Him. Now, He has returned.”

  Saina stomped her foot. “Why are you talking about Nur like He’s a person? Nur is transcendent above everything!”

  Rohimna ignored her. She frowned and looked away.

  According to history, the Elkarians were wiped out by the Magi, bringing the War of the Poets to an end. And yet...this man claims to be Elkarian...

  “And you, young man.” Rohimna gestured to Kav. “You seem lost in thought. Any questions I can answer for you?”

  “So your people have returned home,” Kav said. “Where were you all this time?”

  The man closed his eyes, as if picturing the answer. “In a dead place, a barren land, lifeless and devoid of all good things.” His eyes flung open. “The land you call...the Plane of Haem.”

  “Haem!?” Kav said. “You’ve been living in Haem all this time?”

  “Indeed we have,” Rohimna said. “You see all we want are the good things promised to us, the good things of this world. Its fruits, its running rivers, the gardens and the fields of green. All that was made for us to enjoy, for us to rule. Now, let me show you.”

  Moving images appeared on the steam. There was a city, viewed from atop a mountain. Almarian domes crowned the larger buildings, and people swirled through circular streets. Grains of sand blew with the wind, tinting the whole place a luminous yellow. Trees cast their shade over much of the city and a river curled around the outskirts.

  Everything became fast. People whirled and swirled. Trees grew and died. The river flowed, swelled over its banks, and then dwindled.

  A frame skipped. A ship appeared over the city. That ship. The Magus ship. The eight-sided star that appeared over Kerb.

  Ouroborus swirled in its mouth. It spit the light onto the city. White fire engulfed everything. The water of the river exploded, trees flung in the air, the sky became dust.

  The image froze and disappeared. The steam returned to white.

  “Is that why you did what you did to Qindsmar?” Saina’s face tensed and reddened. “We didn’t destroy Elkaria, it was the Shirmians and the Magi! So why us!?”

  The man ignored her again. Kav couldn’t stand to see her like this, almost in tears. “She’s right. If you’re from Elkaria, that means you’re Almarian,” he said. “And yet, you annihilated an Almarian city. It makes no sense!”

  “It seems they didn’t teach you the true history,” Rohimna said. “Elkaria was betrayed by the Almarian cowards, who surrendered to the Magi while we kept on fighting.” His expression became bitter. “Now, do you understand? We are here only to return home, to return to Eden, to return to what is ours. But as we are of Nur, those who oppose Him will never let us live in peace.”

  Shar kicked up mud. “Fascinating. We don’t have any love for the Magi either, so let us go home.”

  “Then, do you intend to wipe out all the people of Eden to reclaim what is yours?” Kav asked. “How are you any different from the Haemians?”

  “No! We are nothing like them,” Rohimna said. “Nur is merciful, we only seek the land between the Sayoon and Darya rivers.”

  Saina shook her head, eyes closed, as if she couldn’t bear it. “The land
between the two rivers? That’s where we live. That’s Almarian land!”

  Rohimna was silent.

  “Since it’s still Q and A time,” Shar said, “why’d you demand we turn over to you the Grand Magus?”

  “Grand Magus?” Kav scratched his head. “There’s another one?”

  “Take my answer to heart,” Rohimna said. “The Magi are the devils who have led you astray, into this chasm where you will never come out — unless you disown them.”

  Shar scoffed. “There are Magi on your ship! And we’re just civilians, so why waste your time with us, while they tear your ship apart?”

  Rohimna laughed. “Let me give you my decision, pertaining to your request to leave. Your fate is woven with ours. Should the Magi succeed in crashing the ship, you will die too.”

  Merv climbed down the ladder inside the ship’s spine.

  Almost there.

  But he wasn’t. It was still a long way. The chute ran down the entire height of the ship. Rung by rung, he descended toward the hatch that opened into the Atrium, not far from Zauri.

  This ordeal reminded him of a story of glory. His hero, Patriarch Rohimna, had in his youth defended a levship from internal invasion. The Haemians managed to burn off his left foot and left arm up to the elbow, but the man limped, clutched his sword with his right hand, and fought them at the doorway to the prime conductor’s chamber. At the end, Haemian bodies and Elkarian heroes littered the hallways. They ejected hundreds of dead Haemians into the air that day, back to their cursed soil. A line from a poem about Patriarch Rohimna’s heroism pumped Merv up: For such glory, what matter are limbs?

  In response to that event and others, Elkarian scientists developed an energy shield that would incinerate any incoming objects. And yet, the invaders somehow found a way through it, or perhaps deactivated it when it was most needed.

  Just who are we dealing with?

  The Shirmians did not have this kind of technology, he’d been taught. They had no concept of energy shields. A backwards people. How then could they have deactivated the shield at just the right moment to pierce the ship’s hull?