Starlight's Children (Agents of Kalanon Book 2)

by Darian Smith

  The king pressed his hand over the puncture marks to staunch the blood. “And what have you discovered about the missing gold shipment?”

  Brannon rubbed the scar on his cheek. “It's complicated,” he said.

  Aldan rolled his sleeve down over the bite mark. “Uncomplicate it for me.”

  Draeson and Natilia looked at each other. Brannon took a deep breath and forced himself not to begin pacing again. “We were able to rescue some documents that we believe the thieves thought they destroyed. One of them was a message to the boat, instructing it to make a stop between Sandilar and Alapra.”

  Aldan frowned, leaning forward in his seat. “That makes no sense. Their standing orders are to make no stops once they have the gold on board. Who would have enough authority for them to change that?”

  “That's where it gets weird,” Brannon said. “The order was signed by Roydan and dated just before his trial by combat.”

  “He was in prison,” Aldan said. “Under guard. He couldn't have done that. And why would he? There's no point stealing gold when you're about to be executed.”

  “Exactly the question,” Draeson muttered.

  Brannon scowled at him. “Roydan's body went missing after the trial. Draeson has some doubts about what happened.”

  “Doubts?”

  Brannon swallowed. “About whether Roydan is really dead.”

  The king's eyes widened. “Blood and Tears. We saw the Raldene boy kill him. You think he faked it?”

  “I . . . I don't know,” Brannon said, a heaviness in his chest. “I don't think so.”

  Draeson snorted. “You've been wrong about apprentices before. And he has a history of trouble with the law.”

  “Darnec's proved himself,” Brannon said. “He's left his gambling life behind.”

  Natilia cleared her throat and the men stopped to look at her.

  “Go on,” Draeson urged her. “Tell them what you told me.”

  She tugged at her sleeve. “Darnec hasn't entirely left the life behind. I had a visit recently from someone who thought we were still a couple. They were looking to collect on a substantial debt.” She met Brannon's eyes and her spine straightened. “Darnec is gambling again. And he will do whatever it takes to pay what he owes.”

  Brannon sighed. He didn't want to believe it of the young man, but the truth was Darnec had once been arrested for theft to pay his gambling debts and gambling was a habit that was hard to break. “I'll look into it.”

  “Where's this young man now?” Aldan asked. “It seems we ought to have him answer a few questions for us.”

  Brannon scratched his scar again. “I sent him upriver to follow up on what happened to the boat. He won't be back for a few days.”

  “So if he is involved in the theft, you gave him a way to leave the city with my gold?” Aldan's voice had an edge to it. Friends or not, he was still king and not used to the level of disrespect this theft implied.

  “If,” Brannon said. “That's still the key word here. If he's involved, I'll prove it and find him.”

  “See that you do,” the king said. “Because right now I have a populace with an attempted coup in their memories, a monster stealing their children, and a king who can't even keep his own treasury safe. How can they continue to have faith in me if we don't do something about this?” He turned and stared at the tapestry. He rested his chin on his hand, one finger tapping his lips. “This reeks of a conspiracy, Brannon, and there's one obvious person who could be behind it. One way or another, I need to know if my cousin is truly dead.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ula stood in the sand, her eyes closed, and listened to the wind and the waves. She scrunched her toes, feeling the rough grains squish between them like cool dry cloth. The night air caressed her skin and set the beads in her dreadlocks in gentle motion, releasing soft clicks like wind chimes as they touched. The surf crashed out in the bay and moments later a thin layer of ocean tickled her feet. The tide was coming in.

  “It's time,” said a voice behind her. Lule had crept up as Ula waited, her footsteps silent in the soft sand.

  Ula opened her eyes. The moon was high and full, but hazy behind a veil of gauze-like cloud. Night painted the ocean with mystery and what little light there was glimmered on the edge of each wave as it broke, making pale stripes in the darkness. She'd hoped the waters would glow for her tonight. She'd always loved the gentle phosphorescence that sometimes came to the ocean. It would have served as a good omen for the trial ahead. Alas, the kaluk, the earth spirits, were not speaking in omens tonight. She sighed. She would hear from them soon enough.

  “Very well.” She turned to greet her fellow prioress. “I'm ready.”

  Lule led the way as they walked along the beach toward where the gentle transition from sand to earth became first rocky, then grew to a cliff face. A bonfire in the sand signaled their destination. The closer they came, the more the firelight stole Ula's night vision and the rest of the world fell away into darkness.

  As they approached, silhouetted figures plunged torches into the flames and then held them aloft as they formed two lines of solemn-faced shamans, creating a corridor of flame from the bonfire to the cliff.

  Ula and Lule followed the fiery corridor. Ula knew the men and women holding the torches but few of them met her gaze as she passed. Most stood resolute, staring into the distance, and each one lowered their torch as she passed, stretching it out horizontally to form a barrier of flame behind her. There would be no returning the way she came.

  At the end of the corridor, the cliff face loomed above her, a huge tsunami of rock with flickering shadows cast by the flames mimicking sea creatures trapped within. The light of the gathered torches did nothing to penetrate one particular shadow, and its jagged-edged stillness froze Ula's breath in her chest. It was the mouth of the cavern of the Gatuul Naah.

  Lule put a hand on Ula's shoulder and squeezed. “Good luck,” she said.

  The last two figures in the columns of torchbearers were Shool and Glaak. The older man dipped his head to Ula, his white hair reflecting the light of his torch. Shool stepped forward and took her by the elbow as if to pull her into the cave.

  Ula shook him off. “You overstep yourself, Prior Shool. I'm perfectly capable of walking unaided.”

  Shool nodded tersely. “Perhaps.”

  Ula turned her back to him and ran her hands over her beaded leather smock. She'd repainted the patterns on the leather to give the color more impact but also to occupy her mind away from the prospect of the trial ahead. The paint was still sticky to her fingers but the feel of those runic patterns baked the clay of her spine to strong, hard brick. She was Prioress Ula Lanok. She'd been part of the Priory of Gradinath for longer than Shool and she had done what needed to be done. The earth spirits would vindicate her.

  “You must enter the cavern and engage the Gatuul Naah, alone,” Glaak said. His eyes flicked a reproving glance at Shool before returning to Ula. “Fire has guided your way here, wind you breathe within you, earth is in the stone that holds you until it is done, water flows in from the ocean. When the tide changes, we will know the earth spirits' judgement. Good luck, prioress.”

  Ula nodded in acknowledgement, then lifted her chin and strode into the cave.

  The opening in the rock turned abruptly, cutting off the outside world within a few steps. Ula stretched out her arms and felt her way forward along the rock. It was worn smooth, eroded by the endless cycle of water rushing in and out with the tide. It was eerily silent and the cool, damp air smelled of algae and salt.

  The cave opened up into a larger area and Ula paused. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, tiny silver points of light formed above and around her, as if the constellations of the night sky had been gathered, shaken out of their forms, and scattered just for her. Ula smiled. Glowworms were the watchers of the sacred places of the kaluk. They brought light beneath the earth. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Ula to see the shape of the cave and the t
idal pool in the center that was her destination.

  She knelt beside the pool, facing back the way she came, and felt the slime of algae and the grit of the sand on her knees and then on her palms as she leaned forward on all fours and breathed onto the water. “Gatuul Naah,” she intoned. “I submit to the Trial of the Soul. Let the earth spirits measure my intent like fishermen with their catch and judge whether to keep me or throw me back.”

  The water rippled, swirling the reflected glowworm lights like smoke in the wind. The earth rumbled and the stone beneath her parted. Ula froze, forcing herself to stay still and rigid as her arms and legs sank into the rock up to her thighs and elbows. The stone closed over her limbs, sealing her in place, her head over the tidal pool, her dreadlocks swinging free.

  The water stilled and the glowworms extinguished their tiny lanterns, but this time the reflection had a light of its own. Ula's own face stared back at her from the pool. The beads in the reflection's hair glowed with many different colors. The eyes of the reflection had no whites, just orbs of shining agate. The face was hard.

  Ula swallowed. The reflection did not. Her mouth was dry.

  This was how she had looked as an avatar for the earth spirits—a being of immense power and little humanity. It was more intimidating than she'd expected, given that she'd spent most of her life communing with the kaluk. Seeing them like this, she couldn't help but be afraid of what they might do. Yet the earth spirits had come to her aid when she had performed the avatar ritual in Kalanon. They had been helpful. Even kind.

  The avatar tilted its head and spoke in a multilayered voice like a choir speaking in unison. “Why are you here?”

  The agate eyes were mesmerizing, pulling at Ula's mind like a rip dragging a hapless swimmer out to sea. The words seemed to disintegrate on her tongue and fall away like sand beneath her feet in shallows. “I became an avatar for you,” she said.

  “Yes.” The glowing Ula head nodded, beads swaying like lanterns on a cord.

  Ula watched, still caught by the peculiarity of seeing her own face with another entity within it. The eyes of the reflection didn't blink but stared into her, judging. In the background, the sound of waves crashing on the beach seemed to echo in the cave. “There are those on the Priory of Gradinath who fear I opened the door too far for you by not having other Djin with me to form the proper protections.”

  “We are of this world. What does it matter?”

  “You are.” Ula's muscles ached from being held in position. She tried to shift but the rock held her limbs in place. She would be here until the earth spirits chose to let her go. “But our sacred teachings tell us some powers should be limited. It is the purpose of the Djin to limit them.”

  “You speak of the kaluki – the spirits from the other realm. We are not they.”

  “True. But the powers you granted are not meant for mortals. The priory is concerned that I made an error in asking you for help against the kaluki.”

  “What do you believe?”

  Ula sighed. “I believe it was necessary. Had I not done it, the kaluki would have destroyed this realm.”

  “And indeed they would have.” The glow from the reflection's beads pulsed.

  The wave sounds were closer now. With a start, Ula realized they were inside the cave. Time moved faster here. The tide had already reached the cliff and was filling the cavern itself. A ripple of water reached the tidal pool and spilled into it. The reflection blurred, and the avatar's dreadlocks moved as though shifting with the current. The edge of the pool widened.

  “So you agree?” She pulled back a little as yet another wave washed over the pool. This time the water touched the spot on her arms where the rock held her in place. “My intention was pure and my actions necessary. I did the right thing.”

  “Many things are necessary,” the avatar said. It dropped lids over its agate eyes. “What's done is done.”

  Another wave washed in. This time the water rose up to Ula's chest, the sudden cold making her gasp. Fine mist sprayed her face and the scent of brine filled her nostrils. She began to shiver but she was uncertain whether it was from the cold or from the sudden feeling of dread in her gut. This was the first time the avatar had broken eye contact. The earth spirits appeared to validate what she had done and yet they still held her in stone while the cavern filled with water. What were they evading?

  She cleared her throat. “We have finished our bargain, correct? The powers you granted to me and to those who were with me have been withdrawn?”

  The water reached her chin.

  The avatar met her eyes again. “Not all gifts can be fully ungiven,” it said.

  Ula's eyes widened. She felt a flush of heat at her core, despite the cold water. “What do you mean?” Was Shool right? Had she done something dangerous?

  “We have given to those who are worthy.” The avatar's eyes narrowed and the water rose again.

  Ula spluttered as the salt wave slapped her face. “The agreement was for help against the kaluki. Have you gone beyond those terms?” She arched her back and stretched her neck as high as possible. If she could not bring this to an end soon, she would drown, but she had to know that what she had unleashed could be remedied.

  The reflection shimmered and changed, form and angles melting and reshaping like clay beneath a sculptor's hand. Only the agate eyes remained the same. The face that contained them was beautiful, framed with gentle curls of long dark hair, and crowned with a feathered hat. The Nilarian ambassador, Ylani.

  Ula gaped. “She is not an avatar!”

  The image shook its head. “No. But we gave to her as we gave to Bloodhawk, each in their own kind. They accepted this. As did you.”

  “What we accepted was a temporary agreement. It was—” A wave covered her mouth and cut off the rest of her words. She held her breath, waiting for the wave to recede but it did not.

  Another wave washed over her head, cold water sliding across her back. She strained, pulling at her trapped hands and feet, but the rock held firm. She'd run out of time. The cave would continue to fill with water until the tide turned. Unless Ula could get free, she would drown long before that happened.

  Her lungs burned. She opened her eyes in the cold salt water. Silver lights swirled around her, like shards of a broken mirror.

  She reached out to the spirits in the water, asking them to pull back the waves. She could feel them skitter back from her touch. They would not interfere.

  The multilayered voice of the avatar seemed to come from all around her. “Why are you here? What do you want of us?”

  Ula struggled against the grip of the stone. The cold was seeping deeper into her body. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision.

  “You want power?” The voices whispered inside her skull. “You want control?”

  Ula shook her head, her dreadlocks floating like seaweed around her face. No, she answered, in her mind. Then with the last of her breath she shouted it into the water, bubbles of precious air rushing to the surface. “No!”

  The rock gave way. Ula's arms and legs came free. She heaved herself upward, bursting out of the water like a dart shot from a blowpipe. She stumbled to her feet, water streaming down her face and hair, gulping precious air into her lungs. The avatar was still reflected in the water, which was waist-high now that she was standing. It had returned to her own image.

  “You have ended the Gatuul Naah,” it said.

  Ula's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. “Surely you ended it? You set me free.”

  “Did we?”

  She frowned. “I don't want extra power.”

  Her face smiled back at her. “What do you want?”

  “I only wanted what was agreed at the time—your help to defeat the Risen Morgin and the kaluki invasion. That's done now. The danger has passed.”

  Her face in the water shook its head sadly. “The danger will return. Thus, our gifts remain – if hidden. But we will limit them as you ask. They shall hel
p only against kaluki. Now go. You have our blessings.”

  The agate faded from the reflection's eyes and the light dimmed in the beads in its hair. A moment later it had vanished entirely and Ula was alone in the cave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Coordinating a citywide search for a child-eating monster without instigating a panic amongst the populace was a challenge Brannon had never thought to prepare for. Fortunately, with the king's permission, he'd conscripted the palace guard, a portion of the military still stationed in the Alapra barracks, and the magistrates’ justice-keeping forces to assist. All were given a description of the missing cobbler's daughter, limited information about the frost wolf, and instructions to be thorough but discreet.

  “If anyone pushes for information, say there have been reports of a wild dog in the city,” Draeson suggested.

  “And suggest they keep an eye on their children,” Brannon added. “The ‘dog’ likes smaller prey.” Much as Brannon loathed the dishonesty, Aldan and Draeson had both made a good case that the truth would bring chaos and cause much greater harm.

  He'd also asked Magda to again reach out to her contacts among the poorer citizens of Alapra and find out exactly which children had gone missing and from where. Rumors were all well and good, but he needed people to come forward with their stories. If he could discern a pattern to the missing children, then perhaps he could figure out the frost wolf's hunting ground or even predict where it would strike next.

  They divided the city into sections and teams spread out to conduct a block by block search. Brannon and Draeson took the section that included Eaglin's home, thinking perhaps the frost wolf would have established a territory close to its chrysalis.

  The inhabitants of Alapra went about their daily business oblivious to the danger lurking amidst them. The city hummed with activity like an anthill in preparation for the winter. People bustled along the streets, shopkeepers called out their wares to potential customers, and carriages rattled past carrying those too busy or important to walk. There were no obvious signs of fear, grief, or danger. Nothing seemed out of place.