by Dan Haring
“Thanks anyway,” Kyro said. He wandered out of the shop and stood in the middle of the now empty market. His father had left him and gone after whoever was stealing the stars. He must have either run into trouble or completely lost track of time, and Kyro had no means to determine which it was.
He had no clue where his father had gone, and no idea where to begin looking.
Hot tears burned behind his eyes. Tirin had officially abandoned his post—and his son. Kyro wasn’t ready for this, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to do it, but now his father’s responsibility to save the stars had truly fallen to him.
Chapter Eight
When Kyro arrived home, he paused outside. The watchtower rose before him, the many telescopes dotting the roof like the antennae of some bizarre insect. Always watching, always waiting for another star to fall.
But tonight, no one waited for him except his dog.
The nearest star winked at Kyro. He knew what he had to do. He was tired of waiting for his father to return. There were vissla on the prowl in the woods, and after what he had seen, Kyro suspected they were the ones stealing the stars. Something had to be done, and he was the only one left. He never again wanted to see one die in a vissla’s hands like he had a week ago. His father might have left him just the tools he needed to keep that from happening again.
When Kyro entered his home, Cypher bounded over to greet him. “Hi there, boy.” He knelt down to hug his dog. Then Kyro headed for his father’s workshop where he’d stored the strange vials. His mother had once told him that stardust had protective properties, but it was rare. Perhaps this was what had become of the occasional star that fell too close to dawn to save. He hoped he could use it to get an edge over the dark creatures.
Ever since he saw the vissla pick up that star, Kyro had been puzzling over how it had done it when he had been able to ward it off with a star’s light a few nights earlier. What his father had told him not long before he left was the only thing that made sense: it was all about who wielded the star’s power. As part of the starlight net in the sky, a star could hold back the evil creatures. And when Kyro had picked it up, he was able to use it against the vissla. But the vissla could destroy a star if it wasn’t being actively used against them. The creature had done the deed quickly, as though it couldn’t stand to touch the star for too long.
Stardust wasn’t quite the same as a star, but Kyro hoped that it would at least slow down any vissla that came near. They were getting bolder, and there was nothing stopping a vissla from following him all the way to his front door. At the very least, the stardust might give him a few more minutes to return a star to the sky.
Kyro marched out to the perimeter of the yard and carefully surrounded it with a thin line of stardust. He studied it curiously for a moment. It almost looked like salt, but more shimmery. Then he returned home, took a deep breath, and went up into the watchtower, taking his seat in his father’s clockwork chair.
Now it was his. At least, until his father came back.
If he comes back, Kyro thought.
Cypher licked his hand. “I’m glad you’ve stuck around.” Kyro pressed the button, and the chair began its rounds.
Minutes passed into hours, while the stars performed their nightly dance in the sky overhead. Kyro had resigned himself to an uneventful evening when he heard a knock at the door.
Father! was his first thought, and he immediately realized how foolish that was. Why would his father knock on his own door? It had to be someone else.
Curious, Kyro hurried downstairs.
He opened the door to find Andra and her sparkling dark eyes. His jaw dropped, but he couldn’t help meeting her smile with his own.
“Hello, Starboy,” she said. “I know it’s late, but I also know you stay up all night, so I thought it would be all right if you had a visitor.” She hesitated, holding up the bag she carried. “May I come in? I heard about your father, and I know the villagers haven’t been very nice to you lately. I thought you might need some groceries.”
Kyro’s stomach rumbled in response. He had been in such a hurry to leave the grocer earlier that he had only bought a couple necessities. His face bloomed red, but she laughed. “Sounds like I was right.”
“Yes, please come in.” Kyro opened the door wide. When Andra walked past him, he caught the scent of freshly baked cookies, like she was bringing a little bit of that warmth into his home too.
Andra stooped to scratch Cypher behind his ears and even pulled a biscuit from her pocket for him. He gulped it down and wagged his tail, hoping for more.
Kyro took the groceries—the bag was filled with bread and cheese, along with some fresh greens, and even a little meat from the butcher. And a small bag that could only hold one of the sweets she always snuck him.
“Thank you, Andra. This is…” Kyro had difficulty swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. “This is real nice of you. I can pay you back when my father gets his next payment from the Council—”
Andra waved him off. “Don’t worry about a thing. I wanted to help.”
Kyro ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair. He glanced around the small kitchen and workshop area. They never had guests, and didn’t really have anywhere to entertain people. “Do you want to sit down? Or have something to drink? Eat?”
Andra laughed. “Sure, I’d love to sit for a bit.”
Warmth tingled over Kyro’s arms. Andra sat and folded her hands in her lap.
“Are you going to sit too?” she asked.
“Y-yes.” He joined her at the kitchen table, his leg bouncing nervously.
Andra took in her surroundings. “How do you monitor the stars from here?”
“Oh.” Kyro was so surprised to have Andra here in his house that he had nearly forgotten all about his duties. “Yes, I should do that. I have to go up into the watchtower for that.”
“Can I see?” Andra asked.
Kyro showed her the watchtower, Cypher dancing at their heels. When they reached the landing and the clockwork chair, Andra’s eyes grew wide.
“What is this?” she asked.
“My dad made it.” Kyro patted one of the larger gears. “He was a clockmaker before he became a Star Shepherd. He used to make all kinds of things. But he really threw his passion into this and modifying the catapult we use to return the stars to the sky.”
Andra ran her fingers over the arm of the chair. “What do all these buttons do?”
“It’s better if I show you.” Kyro hopped into the chair and pressed the button that made the chair slowly circle the room. Andra squealed when it began to move and marveled at how it stopped just long enough at each telescope to check that sector of the sky.
“Then this one”—Kyro pressed a yellow button—“goes backward.” The chair did as directed. “Do you want to try it?”
Andra grinned. “Absolutely.”
Kyro stopped the chair and hopped off to let her sit. Her feet didn’t touch the floor, but she still sat in the chair like she owned it.
“So, which button makes it go faster?”
Kyro laughed. “The blue one, but—” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Andra pressed the blue button and the chair spun on its track, careening by the telescopes. She laughed, and after two full passes at lightning speed, she pressed the button to make it stop. Her eyes were full of wonder and starlight.
“Does your father let you do this by yourself often?” She stepped off the clockwork chair, then plopped to the floor to play with Cypher.
Kyro’s face clouded over. “No, not usually. Never for a full night. Only if he’s feeling sick or is late returning from a Council meeting.”
“Do you have any idea where he is now?” she asked softly.
Kyro sank into the chair. It was positioned in the center of the room. He could see through each telescope from here if he wanted,
but he’d need to use the chair to get a closer look through one of the telescopes if something fell across the sky.
“No,” he said. “He said he’d be back in two days, and that was a week ago.”
Andra put a hand on Kyro’s arm. “I’m sorry. Maybe it was beyond his control. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
Kyro blinked rapidly. “Yeah, I hope so. The thing is, I think he may have done something dangerous.”
Andra raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
Kyro’s eyes tracked through the telescopes while he talked just to be sure he didn’t miss any falling stars. “The other night something strange happened. We saw not one, but two clusters of stars fall. That never happens. Two stars in the same night is a lot, and more often than not, none fall.”
Andra frowned. “Why do you think they all fell at once?”
“I’m not sure, but I can’t help thinking that something is wrong with the stars. My father sure thought so.” Kyro picked at a loose thread on his sweater, debating how much he could tell Andra without her thinking he was crazy. “One of the clusters was too far away, but the second was nearby. When we went after them, all we found were empty craters dotting the forest floor. Someone took the stars.”
Andra gasped, startling Cypher out of her lap. “Someone took them? How? Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” Kyro shrugged. “That’s why it’s so strange. My father sent me home, and—” Kyro hesitated, then decided not to mention his encounter with the vissla just yet. “And when I got up the next day, he was preparing to leave. I think he found a clue out in the forest and now he’s gone after them, and I have no idea where that might be.” Kyro wrapped his arms around his stomach and sank deeper into the chair.
Cypher nudged Kyro’s knee, then leaned against his leg as if to comfort his master. All Kyro felt was empty and cold.
“How do you know the stars didn’t simply burn out before you could get there?” Andra asked.
“Because we would have at least found the cases. All the old stars have burlap cases, and when they fall from the sky, we replace them with new steel-and-glass ones.” Kyro hopped down and pulled over a discarded burlap sack. “See? This was an old casing.”
“How did the stars get all the way up there in the first place?” Andra asked. She hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.
Kyro knew this story so well he could recite it from memory. Even before his father had taken up Star Shepherding, Kyro’s mother had told him a version of it at bedtime that he knew by heart. He hadn’t realized the significance at the time, that she was giving him a little piece of herself, her past, for him to carry on.
Maybe now he could pass that on too.
Chapter Nine
Kyro told Andra all about the legend of the Seven Elders. “And that’s how the stars came to rest in the sky and Star Shepherds came to take care of them,” he finished. Andra’s expression was rapt.
“The Seven Elders put them there? But how did they do it? A catapult like you have? Or were they tall enough to reach?” She grinned.
“No, they had a little help. The Elders built huge mechanical giants who flew up and hung the stars on hooks in the sky. My father used to tell me that’s what inspired him to become a clockmaker. He always wanted to build something that extraordinary one day.” Kyro’s smile faltered. His father hadn’t confided in him like that in a long time. “But we don’t use burlap and hooks anymore. We have new cases made from glass and steel that are sturdier and have built-in hooks. That way we can hang the stars back in the sky without the help of giants.”
“That’s incredible. And you believe it all?”
Kyro paused. Was it wise to admit that he believed in it? When his mother used to tell him the stories at bedtime, he’d wanted to believe. After watching his father retrieve stars in burlap sacks and send them back to the sky night after night for the last few years, he knew at least some of it was true. And now that he had encountered that frightening, cold shadow creature, any lingering doubts had disappeared.
“I do. The stars are just as the legends say, and someone had to put them there. And…I may have seen one of the dark creatures, a vissla, recently.” He twisted his fingers together in his lap. While he liked talking with Andra like this, he didn’t want to scare her away. But he also didn’t want to lie to her. “It’s all true. And if someone is stealing stars, then the dark things might come back. I’m worried that the vissla might be the ones taking the stars in the first place.”
Andra sat up straighter. “You saw one of the shadow creatures?”
“On my first solo run. The thing radiated cold, and it wanted the star. But I got away. The night before my father left, I saw another one.” Kyro shuddered. “The creature got to the star first, and I couldn’t stop it. It killed the star’s heart. Its deathly cold burned the life right out of the poor star. All I could do was watch. If my father had been there, he could have done something to stop it. But he wasn’t, and if I’m right about the vissla, he’s gone off on a fool’s errand. Now I don’t know where he is or if I can keep the stars safe while he’s gone.”
Kyro’s shoulders drooped under the admission he’d been holding inside all day. He’d spent so much time being angry with his father that he didn’t know if he could do this without him.
“Kyro!” Andra cried, pointing at one of the telescopes. His eyes followed and saw a star flying across on the eastern part of the sky.
He sat bolt upright. Then he grabbed his starglass goggles and snapped them into place. “Let’s go save it,” he said. Andra grinned so wide it was nearly blinding.
She grabbed his hand, and together they ran down the stairs and out the front door, leaving Cypher snoozing in the watchtower. Kyro only paused for a moment to get his bearings once they were outside, and then they were off after the star.
“You do this every night?” Andra said as they ran.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Kyro yelled back. The pair raced through the forest, dodging tree branches and fallen logs until the glow of the fallen star grew brighter.
They reached the glowing crater, nestled between two thick-trunked trees. The fallen star was brilliant and beautiful, and the fact that it was still there this time filled Kyro with a sudden, unexpected emotion: hope.
But he knew they had no time to waste. He scooped up the star, and together they headed back toward the watchtower, this time at a slower pace to be sure he didn’t drop the star.
“When we get to the workshop, we’ll set it in its new case, then send it back to the sky. That’s the best part.”
Andra couldn’t keep her eyes off the glowing burlap in Kyro’s hands. “This is much more interesting than baking.”
Kyro’s laugh died in his throat. A sound like ice cracking on a pond echoed through the trees, and the night surrounding them grew several shades darker.
“Hurry!” he whispered to Andra.
“What is it?” she said.
“The vissla,” Kyro said, his face pale. He clutched the star close to his chest, not wanting to risk a vissla taking this star too. “We must be quick and quiet.”
Andra fell into step right behind Kyro.
The crackling sound grew louder, and the air around them dropped several degrees, but Kyro didn’t stop moving. All he could think about was the sad little star the vissla had turned to dust. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not on his watch.
Kyro peered into the forest. Many yards away, something dark and cold was moving. His breath stuttered. He grabbed Andra’s hand, still clutching the star in the other, and sprinted toward the watchtower. Hopefully, the stardust would slow the vissla. He had no idea what else to do if it didn’t work.
They fled the woods and charged toward the workshop door. He glanced back to see the shadow creature leave the woods, its
terrible crackling ice forming a path beneath it, then balk after a few feet. It moved to the side, but again stopped. Then the other side, with no luck. A terrible keening rose up, and the layer of ice stopped in a half circle at the edge of the yard, as if blocked by an invisible dome.
Kyro gaped as he realized the stardust wasn’t just slowing the vissla; it was blocking its path forward. Sudden warmth filled him from head to toe. His father really had been trying to protect him. For now, home was safe.
He flew back into motion, flinging the door open and locking it the moment Andra stepped inside. Breathless, he rested the star on the worktable.
“What do we do now? Will it follow us? Why did it stop?” Andra asked. Her hands shook, and she tucked them into her pockets.
Kyro gasped for breath and leaned on the table. “My father gave me stardust before he left, and I put it out as a ward around the yard. I wasn’t even sure it would work, but that’s why it can’t follow us any farther. I think we’re safe.” He picked up the knife that lay on the table beside the star. “Now, we have to transplant this into its new home.”
“How can I help?” Andra asked.
“See that pile over there?” Kyro pointed to the stack of metal-and-glass star casings Tirin had had specially constructed by Doman, Drenn’s blacksmith. “Grab two of them.”
Andra did as she was told, and carefully set them on the table beside the burlap sack. Then Kyro sliced open the casing and gently lifted the orb out.
The star glowed in his cupped hands, its molten light swirling and fading every second. This one had a bluish hue, with hints of red speckled throughout.
Andra tentatively set her hand on the top of the star. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “What a wonderful thing you do, saving them every night.”
Kyro’s face flushed. “We must hurry. It’s fading already.” He pushed the burlap aside and gently placed the star inside its new home. It glimmered once, as if in thanks, before Kyro closed the case.
