Return of the Starchild (The Divine Inheritance Series Book 1)

by Catriona Murphy

  The silence of the study was comforting, and the dusty corners and musty smell told her it wasn’t visited often. There was a privacy to the space that she liked, and she wandered amongst the bookshelves and found titles on the histories of the Otherworld, horticulture and magic.

  ‘Why am I not surprised to find you in here?’

  Iliana quickly looked to the door to see Zoe looking amused, resting both hands on her tree root cane.

  She pointed. ‘The Dao is just above you there, fourth shelf. Please study.’

  Iliana watched her closely. ‘You know I’m from Earth.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you also need to know a Xinger was trying to kill me. Zelda was charged with protecting me from it.’

  She had the satisfaction of seeing sheer amazement dawn on the woman’s features.

  ‘Zelda was with some group called the Temple of Stars. I don’t know what any of it means and I don’t know why I’m here. But when I saw your library-’

  ‘Take and study whatever you need. I will help, if I can.’ Zoe gave her a lingering look before turning, an expression crossed her features that puzzled Iliana. She thought Zoe looked disturbed.

  To her surprise, tears had come down her face of their own accord, she had no more control to stop them as she could the moons appearing every night. Her eyes went up to the copy of the Dao on the shelf. She never thought she’d feel it, but home was a more attractive place to be.

  Chapter Seven

  28/02/4018

  p611 Entry No. 45 (Code Status of facility: blue)

  A new development has arisen. There does seem to be intelligent life out there in the universe more than I had thought possible, I berated myself afterwards in my myopic view of how our universe works - I always somehow underestimated it! I was ‘contacted’ by an intelligent alien life form through odd means indeed. I was working through some tedious calculations when what I can only describe as a hologram appeared before me. It was blurry and indistinct at first, but then materialised to full solidity, as if it were in the room with me. It was a little boy, with green almond eyes and freckles. He smiled at me, the kind of smile one shouldn’t see on a child’s face; he looked medieval. He made a proposal to me, one that was too lucrative for me to ignore. I wouldn’t dare describe the details even in my journal (and I have to say the last few entries have been quite non-scientific; my standard has declined with my sanity). I have analysed all details of the conversation that took place, and suspected foul play by someone at our base. However, what motive could any of them possess in deceiving me? I could only arrive at one conclusion after much contemplation and it is this: that I alone was contacted by a new species of intelligent life not residing on my planet.

  When the little boy fizzled out of my laboratory, I felt a new climb had been peaked. It was the opportunity I had been waiting for, if what the boy says to be true, but in the utmost unexpected way, the universe in its workings never ceases to amaze me. But enough deliberating, I have much work to do.

  - M.B

  ‘A

  nd what do you make of our recent uprising in the Akhian quarter?’ Isabella Snatch asked Seamus’s official spokesperson for his cabinet.

  Peter smiled at her. It was the smile he gave whenever he dealt with the papers, which buzzed like animated flies alive with predatorial glee.

  Seamus had a headache. He leaned over in his high chair and whispered to his servant to fetch him some of the Blunt powder.

  He rubbed his eyes and continued to observe the assembled conference for the day.

  A member of the Order of the Second Dawn had been tracked down successfully during the night and was captured. The operation had been conducted by the head of the Watch, and only the most elite soldiers had been sent in to seize the old man. He had been found whipping himself repeatedly in front of a golden brazier depicting the Phoenix.

  The large receiving room was located on the outskirts of the palace grounds, and required high security level access.

  The hall was lined with thick pillars and in the gallery above, were assembled members of the Court, conferring in low, murmured tones.

  Hanging tapestries showed scenes of the Beginning and high, tapered windows streamed in winter sunlight. A musky smell hung with the dancing dust motes in light rays that touched the tiled floor.

  Decorated on the tiles themselves was the meteor that descended from the twin mooned sky thousands of years ago. It gave Maeve, the True First Ruler, the material needed to forge the blade famously named, Tears of the Star. Seamus often wondered where the sword had disappeared to.

  In the depiction, she fought the First Ruler whose face, by the artist’s hand, was an image of mercilessness and brutality, made to appear almost subhuman since his right arm was nothing but a gnarled claw that stuck out like an unhealthy, festering growth. His downturned mouth looked down upon Maeve with derision. Morgan the high wizard, was not a popular historical figure in the Otherworld.

  The hall was a stockpile of sounds of shuffling papers, busy feet and a few sniffles from those who had caught the early winter cold.

  Peter, a thin, tall weasel of a man adjusted his collar, which had a pin of the crown embedded in it. His blue eyes dazzled at Isabella as if she were the only person in the room.

  ‘Isabella,’ he cooed, ‘always at the front I see.’

  Seamus, in the beginning, thought that Peter was too theatrical for the position of being the crown’s tongue. He realised after a while why he had been appointed. He was charismatic, but not in such a way as was obviously deceitful. He could handle tough questions, crack a joke at the end of his reply and even would laugh, forgetting what the question had even been about. Peter could also handle Isabella.

  Isabella flashed a brilliant smile back, rouge red lipstick over pearly white teeth.

  ‘I’m always up the front, Peter dear,’ she replied, a tone as fine as China. She fanned the quill playfully so the feather brushed her face, and tilted her head to one side to give him the cute look.

  Peter’s eyes never left hers and their secret match continued.

  Seamus shifted in his seat, pushing down the urge to groan.

  ‘Of course. I just wonder if there will ever be a day when someone takes the infamous Isabella’s place.’

  She threw her head back and laughed musically. ‘You’ve always been a cute one, Peter.’ She leaned forward as if trying to converse with him in secret. ‘You’re better than the previous ones I’ve had here,’ she whispered, and winked a wicked smile filled with promise and intrigue.

  ‘Can we please move this along?’ grumbled Gregory. The minute the keeper was confined to an uncomfortable chair and a plain desk, with a clock that ticked away the wasted minutes of Peters and Isabella’s duel.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Peter, his tone becoming more formal. ‘The recent events that took place in the Akhian quarter, as we understand it, were the result of a widespread fire. As a consequence, it caused panic which led to a riot.’

  ‘My witnesses tell me it was because some of the Watch’s men assaulted a young boy,’ Isabella interjected. Her pretty green eyes turned sharkish.

  ‘You would need to study the credibility of your sources, Ms. Snatch. Our Watch found the burnt out houses themselves, if you require proof, you need only visit them.’

  ‘There’s been talk that the Watch set fire to the houses themselves to cover up their foul acts.’

  ‘The Watch only employ men of honour and strict audits are run—’

  ‘Strict audits do not stamp out corruption, Mr. Wyndell. If you like, I can take you to some witnesses I have spoken to. They’re even willing to take the Gospel juice to be heard.’

  ‘Ms. Snatch, if you are genuinely worried about the honour of the men who occupy the ranks of the Watch, I would be very much obliged to ask you to bring forward all your findings on the matter. Assuming that there has been a mistake.’

  Isabell
a stood back, retracting the claws. ‘There has been a mistake,’ she said smoothly.

  ‘Next question,’ she said, ‘has a suspect been taken into custody for Hannelsford prison? Do you know how it was done?’

  Seamus noticed a quieting in the room. The vulture journalists leaned forward, chairs creaking.

  ‘That would be two questions Isabella. The answer to the first is that we do have someone in custody for what happened to our prison, I am not authorised to give any further information on the case as we do not want to leak anything that may be of use if the perpetrator is still at large. What I can tell you is that the demolition was a team effort, not one person acting alone. As to the second, we have some theories that the Department of Analysts have put forward, but there is nothing solid yet to confirm.’

  Isabella scribbled furiously on her notepad, flicking full sheets to her assistant without looking. The faerie had to jump in the air to catch them.

  Seamus’s steward-in-attendance pressed an envelope into his hand that wore the seal of the faerie army.

  ‘This was delivered this morning by general Galfen of faerie HQ. He says this requires your most urgent attention.’

  Frowning, he tore the letter open.

  He read for several minutes, his eyes going over the same lines again and again. He looked to his steward, his face grave.

  ‘Arrange a cabinet meeting immediately. Everyone must attend, absence will be unacceptable.’

  The steward bowed. ‘Galfen also requires a personal meeting at your earliest convenience.’

  ‘Request that he presents himself also.’

  Seamus left the hall wordlessly, and stared out his carriage window introspectively as it rocked through the city of Erp Surrel. The wandering citizens who he normally watched with interest today walked past his flat stare.

  He had noticed there was a growing disquiet amongst the people. In their faces, he could see an anger in the tightness of the men’s jaws, and in the lines of the women’s frowns. Even the children seemed too docile, holding their parents’ hands obediently, looking lost.

  Seamus shook his head, he always did read too much into things. Although he could feel a weight hanging over himself and the city, like a storm cloud about to burst.

  When he entered the Situation room in the palace, Florin, his minister of Secret Affairs, stood silently in one corner with the practised patience of a wolf. He watched him with amused interest, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his secretive lips. His other ministers were waiting, assembled around a long table.

  The room held a piano forte in one corner and a large French chandelier hung from the ceiling. The long table for the ensemble was hidden under piles of papers; more treaties probably for Seamus to sign. A bronze shoot jutted out next to a set of French patio doors, for any messages that needed to be delivered immediately.

  The ceiling was a mass of vivid white carvings like that of an Italian cathedral, with dramatic depictions of the Beginning from the Tuatha De Dannans arrival to the First Ruler. Facial expressions of emotions frozen in time echoed from aeons past, the people’s bodies were so vivid he thought they would simply detach from the ceiling.

  A minister spoke. ‘So, your highness,’ he said briskly, his eyes were red and Seamus wondered did he wake the old man from sleep. ‘May we ask what we’re doing here this time? I have a most burdensome investigation with the Watch, and my suspect is a deranged lunatic who only answers when he is addressed as, ‘most obedient follower of the holy Phoenix’.’

  He reclined back into his chair with a waiting expression tinged with mild irritation. Tufts of white hair stuck out from random sides of his head. On one side of his neck was the Maman symbol, that was partially hidden beneath the folds of skin that now overlapped and sagged since he was riddled with age. Seamus could still see a hint of tanned colour in his skin though, the only other sign of his tribal heritage.

  Seamus came forward, pulled back a chair and sat down. ‘One of the nine gates into Earth and Beyond has collapsed, and another has been disengaged.’

  It was met with astonished silence momentarily before pandemonium broke out.

  The cabinet meeting went on for hours. Galfen, a faerie general who was charged with a gate, had presented himself in full armour holding cold tea awkwardly on a saucer, explaining what he witnessed. But what had truly thrown Seamus, was what Galfen said next.

  His eyes flickered to Seamus with some level of discomfort. ‘There was someone there.’ He twiddled his tiny green thumbs. ‘Cecile of the Temple of Stars was able to grant us the permission we needed to collapse the arch.’

  ‘Cecile...’ Seamus breathed. He had not heard that name in a long time. With it, came a swirl of memories filled with sorrow and grief, it spun in his head so quickly he thought he might drown in them. ‘Where is she?’

  Seamus was lost for words. Cecile had not been reportedly seen in the Otherworld for nearly twenty years, yet he knew the girl had ways of getting around unseen. She always managed to escape Florin’s surveillance.

  ‘She was taken by slavers, we do not know. Once we were free from our bonds we sent out a platoon, but none could find her.’

  Seamus’s stomach plummeted.

  Florin stepped forward gracefully. ‘I can delve into who was behind conjuring the Xinger.’ He turned customarily, shoulders square. ‘If that befits your majesty’s requirements.’

  Seamus was suspicious at his volunteering, but reading the man could be so damn hard sometimes.

  ‘Fine by me.’ He looked around the room while the last vestiges of Cecile’s face disappeared into the back of his mind. ‘This needs to be kept secret. The papers are already alive and ringing over Hannelsford, if this leaks I’ll be wanting someone’s life. Dismissed.’

  As Galfen and the cabinet filed out of the room, Seamus remained seated, ruminating. Memories before her disappearance danced in his mind’s eye, as if it were only yesterday he was in the prime of his youth and her the daughter of a Privileged family.

  The Daynes, known to be one of the most prominent blue bloods of the Celestian line, a family that could trace their lineage back to Maeve of the Tuatha De Dannan. Their blood was more purebred and marriages were always arranged strictly to preserve their purity, not allowing for weaker families to dilute the potency that was hot in their blood.

  He met her through an evening social engagement and they were inseparable afterwards. Reciting poetry, discussing war tactics used by previous monarchs, the tribe’s people’s unjustifiable treatment by the government and conversations around how the budget allocated for public healthcare should be spent. Their natural interest in politics drew them together, but it was also what had torn them apart.

  James and Eileen Daynes had wanted her to become the next phenomenal ruler of the Otherworld. Undisputed, strong and courageous. It would set the family name in stone and present the Dayne name as one to be respected and revered by all. The rivalry between the Privileged bloodlines had put insurmountable pressure on her, and he could tell she didn’t want the title of Queen. She confessed to him one evening she had been speaking to an agent of the Temple of Stars and was fascinated by them.

  Seamus had been born into a very modest family and had no means or money to have himself elected. So Cecile passed all her credit and contacts that her family hadattained for her, onto him. He campaigned on her money and became the next ruler while she galloped away to the temple to train as an agent.

  Her parents had never forgiven him for it, as though her departure had been his scheme for ascension to the throne. There were times when he wished he had not taken on the role in the first place.

  After that, he heard little from her. The temple was self-regulated and there was ever little intervention by the monarchy in their operations.

  Then nearly twenty years ago, she disappeared.

  He had fired questions at Terrence like bullets, but he was neither under law nor oath to tell h
im anything. The temples setup had been that they would go about their business of ensuring the safety of the Otherworld and the monarchy would go about theirs ruling it. That had been the agreement upon its establishment and had been enshrined into law since its establishment. Many times, Seamus cursed it.

  He never married, to the scepticism of the kingdom. He had endured painful conversations about it at dinner parties, hints from cabinet members and outright criticism from those that climbed the kingdom’s tree for his position. Seamus was willing to sacrifice all for the crown except for one thing; his heart.

  He spent nights by the fireplace with his fingers intertwined agitatedly. He thought Cecile would write to him and several times he reached out to her, but she never responded.

  Alone now in the Situation room, the shadows on the walls began to sing again, only the song chanted on one young woman’s name.

  The Muckleberry squawked loudly.

  ‘For bloody sake Iliana - use your hands!’

  I am, she thought, as she clambered with the ostrich creature that thrashed in wild panic beneath her. They were surrounded by a herd of them far out into the Steppes, it had taken one hour on horseback to reach the heartland of the green sea. The grass swayed wistfully like weeds on a seabed.

  I feel like I should be singing The Sound of Music, Iliana had thought sarcastically, when she dismounted from her horse. The amusement at the outback scenery died when Zoe told her she would be tagging a newborn today.

  ‘Hold still!’ she shouted. The creature only squealed in defiance while Zoe tried to ward off the protective elders, who were scraping the grass with their talons like a bull, ready to charge.

  ‘Not even my servant takes this long!’ Zoe scourged, ‘if you can’t tag even one girl, you will have to stick to the gardens.’