The Star Shepherd

by Dan Haring

  And the rest of the world laughed at them.

  Most people viewed fallen stars as good luck. They were made from a rare element, one that would fetch a pretty price from the right buyer. The idea of sending it sailing out of reach was mind-boggling for many, and downright infuriating for others.

  Kyro had heard the rumors that his father was hoarding stars in his tower out of greed and not sending them back to the sky at all. It wasn’t true, of course, but every unkind word scratched at him like thorns.

  Still, when the forest broke behind him this afternoon, his heart began to lift until he felt lighter than he had in days. The gates of Drenn lay ahead, its wooden wall surrounding the village in both directions until it hit the main road in the east and brushed against the forest in the west. Sometimes he thought of Romvi, the village where he was born. Drenn reminded him of it. All those houses, all those bustling people—it was impossible to be truly alone. He missed that.

  If he was lucky, his friend Andra might be working in her father’s bakery this afternoon. She always made Kyro laugh. Laughter was in short supply back at the watchtower.

  He walked through the village gates, Cypher padding after him with his snout in the air and tail wagging. Short houses with red-shingled roofs stretched out in row after row on either side. The main thoroughfare led to the village square and the marketplace. Beyond that were the docks and the bay that led to the ocean. Kyro could already smell the salt on the air and feel the activity vibrating through the streets as he neared the marketplace. He jangled the coins in his pocket nervously.

  He really, really hoped Andra would be there today.

  His first stop was the grocer, run by an old man who treated Kyro with a withering tolerance. They needed groceries to survive, and Kyro was always sure to be extra polite to the man, but it never made a difference.

  Stands of many-colored vegetables and flowers lined the outside of the grocery store to tempt passersby. When Kyro entered, the grocer looked up for a moment, then sighed. Kyro’s cheeks flamed. He gathered the items they’d need to last them the week and set them on the counter. The old man eyed Kyro’s groceries from his chair behind the counter.

  “Four silvers,” he said, without getting up. Kyro handed over the coins, then took his things and left. Only Andra and sometimes the blacksmith would talk to him. Every other shop was the same story as the grocer.

  Kyro stopped at the butcher, then the tailor to pick up the jacket Tirin had managed to rip on a tree branch last week. Finally, he only had one stop left: the bakery.

  His hands grew slick as he approached the sweet-smelling little shop. He hoped Andra, with her dark hair and clever eyes, was waiting for him behind the counter and not her father. Bodin could be a bit…grumpy. Especially when it came to Kyro and his father.

  He paused under the bright-green awning, and when he opened the door, the familiar peal of the tiny bells rang in his ears. The girl at the counter’s face lit up. “Hello, Starboy!” she said.

  Kyro scuffed his shoe on the floor. Andra always called him that, but it didn’t sound mean coming from her lips.

  “Did you finally get to rescue a star on your own?” she asked. Kyro had admitted some weeks ago that he’d been hoping his father would let him go on his own soon, and she’d asked every week since. This was the first time he could say yes.

  “I did, and it’s back up in the sky now where it belongs.” Kyro tried to act excited, but his father’s lack of a reaction had tainted the proud moment.

  “Was it as glorious as you’d hoped?” she asked.

  “It sure was.” He silently kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of something better to say?

  “Are you here for your usual?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She began to put a few rolls and loaves in a bag for him, when a large, round man wearing a dirty apron stomped out from the back room of the shop. Kyro’s insides squirmed. Bodin glanced back and forth between Kyro and his daughter and scowled.

  “Your mother needs you out back,” Bodin said, taking the half-packed bag from his daughter.

  “But I was almost—”

  “Now,” Bodin said. With a sigh, she headed for the back of the shop, but not before sneaking a parting wink at Kyro.

  He flushed red from head to toe and fumbled for the remaining coins in his pocket. “Hurry up, boy,” Bodin said. Kyro managed to hand over the coins, and Bodin gave him the bag of goods.

  “Now, business is business and all, but you best leave my Andra alone, you hear? She doesn’t need the likes of you filling her head with silly notions about stars.”

  Kyro couldn’t find the words to respond. His throat felt thick, and he swallowed hard. Then he shuffled back out the door with Cypher at his side, Bodin’s glare burning into his back.

  Leave Andra alone? But she’s the only one my age who’ll talk to me. She’s the only one who’s kind.

  Kyro’s heart sank into his shoes, but as he passed out of sight of the bakery’s windows, he heard “Starboy!” from the alley behind it. Andra hung out the back door, waving furiously in his direction.

  He laughed. “Hey,” he said.

  “Sorry my father’s such a grump.” She walked over with her hands behind her back. “I thought you might like something to celebrate saving the star. Hold out your hand, and close your eyes.”

  “All right,” Kyro said. Something warm and sweet-smelling wrapped in paper was pressed into his palm. When he opened his eyes, Andra had disappeared.

  Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

  Kyro hummed on his way out of the marketplace, taking a bite of the chocolate cookie she had given him while Cypher ran in a figure eight between his legs. But as he took the turn toward home, something caught his eye, and he paused to squint at the sky. He snapped on his starglass goggles and even adjusted them twice, but the object remained. In fact, it was getting closer every second.

  The bright, beaming thing swooped over his head and crashed into the market behind him.

  Andra, Kyro thought. His cookie forgotten, Kyro raced back to the marketplace, jostling through the townspeople streaming from their shops. Smoke curled from the direction of the bakery, and when he turned the corner, he found the green awning alight with flame. A few feet beyond lay a smoldering crater.

  A star had fallen. In the daytime. Kyro had never heard of that happening. Though it was nearly dusk, it still didn’t make any sense.

  Bodin roared from his shop with a huge bucket of water to douse the burning awning before the fire could spread any farther. The crowd murmured and gasped as they drew closer to the crater.

  “A star!”

  “Luck has smiled on our village!”

  Bodin grumbled something about luck under his breath that made Kyro’s ears redden. Cypher yapped and tugged the hem of his pants.

  Cypher was right; Kyro needed to save that star. But that might mean giving up his groceries…

  Before he could decide, a new voice rang out from the back of the crowd. His father’s familiar form cast a long shadow over the flagstones of the market.

  Tirin had arrived to collect the star.

  Chapter Three

  Murmurs and groans rang out like clashing bells.

  “Why should Tirin keep it?”

  “Star Shepherds, always hogging the luck for themselves.”

  Bodin stepped forward, wiping his hands with a towel. Andra’s eyes were wide and worried as they darted between her father and Tirin.

  “Go home, Star Shepherd. The star landed in our village. We’ll keep it and any luck that comes with it.” He motioned to his singed awning. “I’ll need it to fund the repairs to my shop.”

  Kyro knew he should stand by his father, but he was afraid it would only make things worse. Bodin had no fondness for him. Cypher bounded over to the crater and growled at any
one who came near.

  Tirin frowned, oblivious to the unhappy villagers. “It is my sworn duty to return all fallen stars in my domain to their rightful place in the sky. I must do so before it burns out.”

  Kyro edged closer to the crater. The light from the star had begun to dim. The idea of allowing it to sputter out made his skin feel tight and uncomfortable. Despite what the villagers might think, he knew the legends were true and starlight was the only thing keeping evil away. He shuddered as the shadow creature from the night before reared up in the back of his mind.

  His father still argued with Bodin, but behind them, Andra urged him to snatch the star. Kyro hesitated, but when his father stepped toward the crater, a villager grabbed him by the shoulders. He tried to shrug him off, but another man joined in. Soon the crowd transformed into a mass of flailing limbs.

  Cypher barked. Kyro scooped up the smoking burlap sack and clutched it to his chest, still balancing his groceries in his other arm.

  “Over here!” Andra motioned for him to follow her. This time he didn’t hesitate at all.

  She led him into an alley, then took his arm and half ran, half dragged him along. He stumbled after her.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  Her dark eyes twinkled like the night sky. “The side gate near the woods is closest. They’ll be the first to respond to the uproar.”

  “But my father…” Guilt stung Kyro. He should have stayed to help his father.

  “Your father would want you to save the star, wouldn’t he?” Andra said. Cypher yipped his agreement. “See, even your dog knows that’s true.”

  They turned another bend and waited in the alley just to be sure the coast was clear. The guard post was abandoned.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Go save that star,” Andra said. “I’ll try to help your father, all right?”

  Kyro shifted his weight from foot to foot. Andra laughed. “Go, Starboy.”

  His cheeks warmed as he trotted toward the gate. When he looked back, Andra was gone.

  Kyro was alone again. Cypher nudged him with his wet nose and wagged his tail. Well, perhaps not completely alone, Kyro thought.

  They ran back through the woods. Soon the familiar spire of the watchtower rose up before him. At first glance, it seemed like telescopes dotted the roof haphazardly, but they’d been strategically placed. That was how his father knew the star had fallen and arrived so quickly in the village. But Kyro was the one who had saved it. A small smile broke across his face. With a little help from Andra, of course.

  He opened the door to the workshop and set the star on the workbench. Only then did he realize something was odd. Usually the burlap cases were torn, where age had worn the threads and the casings had torn off the hooks. But this one was different—it had a clean slice. He’d been in such a hurry that he hadn’t noticed it.

  Curious, he pawed through the pile of discarded casings his father kept to use as fire starters. Sure enough, not one had a clean slice.

  Something like fear wormed its way through Kyro’s belly.

  The light in the workshop grew dimmer, and he straightened up. He didn’t have time to worry about this now. The star was almost out.

  Just as Kyro lifted the molten heart from the burlap casing, his father burst through the door, eyes wild. Bits of twigs and leaves stuck out of his hair, and his hands twisted as if they searched for something to grab on to. Kyro’s heart slid into his feet. Hopefully Andra hadn’t seen his father this way.

  “Oh, thank heavens, you have the star.” Tirin gulped in air. “Not a moment too soon.”

  His father opened a new casing, and snapped it closed the second Kyro placed the heart inside. Then he ran it outside with hardly another look at his son.

  The sun was setting, and by the time Kyro reached the catapult, the star was loaded and the gears churned. Another noise caught his attention. Cypher growled at the woods.

  The first villager reached the clearing as the star was flung into the heavens. Tirin leaned on the catapult. Kyro would never tell his father, but relief filled him too.

  High above, the star stopped, and twinkled, and settled into place.

  More villagers streamed from the tree line, frustration coloring their faces shades of angry red. The village leader, Shane, a man about his father’s age with short peppered hair, stepped forward, scowling.

  “You had no right.” He pointed his finger at Tirin’s chest. Kyro held his breath, and Cypher huddled closer to his leg.

  “I’m the Star Shepherd of the region. I must fulfill my sacred duty. The stars are what keep all of us safe,” Tirin said.

  Kyro’s heart sank into his shoes. The villagers were not pleased to hear this either. They grumbled, and shouts of “Fool!” rang out from the crowd. Kyro wanted nothing more than to hide inside, but he couldn’t leave his father to their mercy.

  “You are a fool,” Shane sneered. “We never asked you to watch the stars here. We could’ve used some luck and a little coin. That’s more helpful to us than another star in the sky. There are plenty of them to spare.”

  “Every star is critical,” Tirin said. “Any gaps in the starlight net could have dire repercussions.”

  “We don’t believe in old wives’ tales about monsters. And our village has no place for those who advocate for them.” Shane stalked back to the path. The rest of the people followed, but not before hurling a few more insults in Tirin’s direction as he returned to his workshop.

  Ice ran over Kyro’s face as their meaning sank in. Star Shepherds weren’t welcome in the village anymore. What had his father done?

  And why did I have to help him?

  Chapter Four

  Kyro headed back to the watchtower, kicking a twig on the way that Cypher ran ahead to chase. Why had he taken the star anyway? He hated the idea of seeing one die out, but if the village wouldn’t help them anymore, how would they get supplies? Would he ever see Andra again? Would one lost star really make that much of a difference?

  A sullen haze settled over his shoulders. When Kyro opened the door, he was surprised to see his father tearing around the workshop.

  “Where did it go?” he muttered as he pawed through a pile of discarded burlap cases.

  Kyro frowned. “What are you looking for?”

  His father paused. “You took the star out of it; where did its case go? I must examine it.”

  “It’s still on the workbench,” Kyro said. Tirin had blown right by it in his hurry.

  “Ah! Of course,” he said, patting his son on the head. He inspected the case on all sides, his frown growing deeper with every breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This one is different from the others we’ve rescued,” Tirin mused. “See!” He pointed to the slice Kyro had noticed earlier. A knot began to form in his stomach.

  “It looks like it was cut, but that’s impossible. No one can reach the stars. They’re too high,” Kyro said. Still, the longer he considered it, the colder the knot in his stomach became. Almost as cold as he’d been in the presence of that shadow creature yesterday.

  His father stroked his chin. “Stars falling down in the daytime, cuts instead of tears… Something’s wrong.” He looked up at his son, eyes full of an emotion Kyro hadn’t seen in them since his mother died: fear. “I must report this to the Council. I’ll leave at first light.” He set the burlap casing back on the workbench. “I will return as swiftly as I can, but it will probably take me all day and most of the night to get there, make my case, and come home. You must watch the sky in my absence, Kyro.”

  Kyro was too stunned that his father trusted him to watch the stars alone to object as his father’s shadow retreated into the watchtower.

  * * *

  When Kyro woke the next day as dusk fell, his father had been gone for hours. Nervously, he climbed
the stairs to the top of the watchtower with Cypher at his heels. He settled onto the chair where his father sat night after night, one that was connected to gears and a pulley to easily slide around the room from one telescope to another.

  His father had once been a clockmaker by trade, and he’d used his talents to improve the standard Star Shepherd equipment. He’d even invented a clockwork cart to make his journeys across the Black Lands to the Council tower faster. When they had lived in Romvi, his father’s skills had been sought after by the rich and fashionable, but clockwork contraptions were not common in these parts. Kyro had loved the work his father made. It was special and unique.

  Then his mother had died, and his father traded it all to honor her memory as a Star Shepherd.

  Kyro had seen his father use this chair hundreds of times and had even sat in it sometimes when he woke before Tirin, just to see what it felt like. But this was the first time his father had ever instructed him to use it. Kyro sat up straighter, feeling taller than he had this morning. He couldn’t wait to tell Andra about this.

  But when Cypher climbed into his lap, and they settled in to watch, uneasiness crept in.

  Could his father be right? Could something really be wrong in the sky, or was it just a fluke? With every star that came out, Kyro’s apprehension deepened. But all he could see were the sky and the stars, and no answers at all.

  He cranked the lever to slow, pressed the button on the arm, and the chair began its whirling pattern between the eyepieces of the many telescopes dotting the roof. Soon Cypher grumbled in his sleep, flicking his perked ears and kicking Kyro in the stomach as he chased some imaginary squirrel through the woods. The night was quiet and still. Kyro alternated between spinning in his father’s chair and standing up and walking between the telescopes to keep himself alert.

  What if another star fell and he missed it?

  Cold desperation settled into Kyro’s bones, but it kept him moving. After a few hours of watching, he finally stopped circling and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Cypher tagged along, no doubt hoping for scraps.