Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

  Kyndra gazed at the ribbon-bound parchments. ‘How long has it taken to compile those lists?’

  ‘About two hundred years.’

  ‘Two hundred!’ Kyndra could hardly imagine it. ‘And how many books are here?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly,’ Nediah answered, spreading his hands. ‘But less than before the war. Many didn’t survive the fall of Solinaris. Cataloguing is a task passed down from one archivist to the next. There are actually a team of them who work under Master Hebrin – he’s in charge of the archives.’ Nediah fixed her with a stern eye. ‘In here, his word is law.’

  Kyndra looked at him enquiringly. ‘Not the Council’s word?’

  ‘Don’t be tiring.’ Despite the rebuke, a tiny smile flickered in the corner of Nediah’s mouth. Then the Wielder folded his arms. ‘For someone who loves books as much as you do, I trust you understand the value of those kept here. The archives demand respect.’

  ‘Demand is a strong word, Master Nediah.’

  Kyndra wasn’t the only one who jumped. Nediah hastily uncrossed his arms. ‘Master Hebrin,’ he said, flushing. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  The archivist moved into the light of the Solar fires that floated overhead. ‘My,’ he said, blinking at the empty chairs. ‘Have you chased off all the novices?’

  Nediah laughed and Hebrin smiled, deepening the creases around his mouth. The archivist’s eyes were green – not dark like Nediah’s, but awash with pale light like the sky after rain. A shock of white hair betrayed his age and wrinkles meandered from the corners of his eyes into papery cheeks. Given that Wielders lived longer than ordinary people, Kyndra wondered just how old he was.

  Hebrin held out his hand. ‘You must be Kyndra Vale. It’s always pleasant to meet a new potential.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Especially one who’s created such a storm in the citadel.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ Kyndra said as she shook hands.

  Hebrin chuckled drily. ‘That makes little difference. Perhaps a squall is good for us.’

  ‘That’s why I asked your permission to bring her, Master Hebrin,’ Nediah said. ‘I thought she might find something here to help with the test, something that would explain to her what we are more clearly than the words we use ourselves.’

  Hebrin studied Nediah approvingly. ‘I understand. The Wielders of old were adept at conveying the essential truth of things. I sometimes fear we have lost the gift.’

  Kyndra wasn’t at all sure what they were talking about. She looked at the archway and saw that it, too, had symbols carved over its mantel. A solid darkness crept from it into the antechamber, darkness that lay unbroken all the way to the world’s heart.

  ‘Kyndra,’ Nediah said then, breaking her reverie. ‘Show Master Hebrin your book.’

  Oddly reluctant to let it go now that she had it back, Kyndra handed over the book. ‘It’s about Acre,’ she said. ‘My stepfather bought it for me.’

  As Hebrin took the slim volume, she felt a sudden sense of dislocation. Here she was, standing in the Wielders’ city, showing a Wielder a book mainly about Wielders. What would the archivist make of that? She watched him carefully, but Hebrin only glanced at the inside page before giving it back to her. ‘A charming storybook,’ he said and Kyndra felt a ripple of resentment. She tucked her only relic of home safely inside her shirt.

  ‘To business, then.’ If Hebrin realized he’d offended her, he gave no outward sign of it. Perhaps he didn’t care. ‘Master Nediah can show you which books will further your understanding. Those texts are all on the upper spirals and there is no need to venture below the third.’

  Kyndra didn’t miss the warning. She only had time to nod before Hebrin continued.

  ‘You must know the rules before you proceed. The seventh spiral is forbidden, as are those beneath. That level marks the end of free reading for all Wielders.’ His gaze swept across Nediah, who shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘There are shields in place that will stop you, should you think to test me,’ Hebrin said. ‘You will not be able to pass a shielded gate, or touch a shielded book. Should I find you attempting to do so, you will leave the archives and not be permitted to return. Do you understand?’

  Kyndra nodded again. She watched Hebrin’s eyebrows draw sternly together and added hastily, ‘Yes, Master Hebrin.’

  Her words banished his frown. ‘Good,’ Hebrin said. ‘Now that the formalities are over, you may accompany Master Nediah. I hope the archives will be of aid.’

  ‘Thank you, Master Archivist,’ Nediah said quickly. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, Nediah,’ Hebrin said as they crossed to the archway. ‘But who’s to keep an eye on you?’

  Nediah chuckled, as if Hebrin had made a joke, but it fell flat. He ushered Kyndra into the darkness, leaving the old man behind.

  Kyndra waited until the solitary path they followed had taken them several minutes away from the antechamber. She watched Nediah curiously under the golden flames that the Wielder had conjured to light their way. ‘What did Hebrin mean when he said there was no one to keep an eye on you?’

  ‘Master Hebrin,’ Nediah corrected. He paused. ‘You could say I wasn’t the most tractable of novices.’

  ‘Does that mean you broke the rules?’

  ‘I’m not proud of it,’ Nediah said. ‘I was stupid and courted trouble.’ His face grew distant. ‘It could have ended in disaster … I nearly destroyed my future forever.’

  ‘How?’

  Nediah didn’t answer. When the silence began to build shadows between them, he said, ‘After Brégenne became my mentor, I gave all that up. She opened my eyes.’ He smiled faintly, ironically. ‘I can never repay that debt.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was your mentor.’

  ‘There wasn’t a need for you to know.’

  Kyndra frowned. ‘But how could she teach you if you use opposite energies?’

  Nediah glanced up at his flames and they strengthened, throwing fire against the creeping, black walls. ‘A mentor isn’t a teacher in that sense. Pupil and mentor often have different affinities. They guide you morally, intellectually. They are there to help with the issues all young people struggle with as they grow.’

  Jarand’s face came to Kyndra unbidden and she felt a wave of homesickness. Whether she’d been labelled as a bastard or not, Jarand had loved her like a father. She said nothing and stared at the rough fissures cut into the wall. Books lay there in various states of disrepair. ‘Is this the first level?’ she asked, looking at them.

  ‘No. These books need some attention.’ Nediah glanced at the niches and their shabby occupants. ‘Most are just copies of common texts. They’ll stay here until one of the novices who works in the archives has time to repair them.’

  ‘So there aren’t any forbidden ones here?’

  Nediah looked sidelong at her. ‘No.’

  Kyndra hid her smile. ‘According to Hebrin, I wouldn’t be able to touch them anyway.’

  ‘Master Hebrin,’ Nediah said tiredly. ‘And no, you wouldn’t. I’ll let you have a go at opening the second spiral.’

  Quite suddenly a gate rose out of the darkness, barring their way. Nediah made a satisfied noise and let the golden fire spill over the elaborate portal. ‘Ah. We’re at the first spiral.’

  Kyndra studied the gate. It stretched from floor to ceiling – a filigree of twisted metal. The bars looked like serpents and they coiled so tightly around each other that they almost blocked her view of the passage beyond. She poked them tentatively and when nothing happened, looked questioningly at Nediah. The Wielder smiled. ‘The first spiral isn’t shielded. Try the handle.’

  She hadn’t spotted it, hidden in the metalwork. The handle was a solid ring of iron and conjured up unpleasant images of dungeons. Kyndra turned it and they both stepped through. A large numeral glowed on the wall inside, welcoming them to the first spiral.

  ‘Anyone can come here,’ Nediah explained as they set off, following the
tunnel that curved around to the right. ‘You’ll often find Initiated novices clustered together since most are too afraid to visit on their own.’

  Kyndra thought of the children in Master Rush’s class. She remembered the large brown eyes of the girl – the child who’d once stood alone in a circle of adults as they turned death upon her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Kyndra hesitated. ‘Master Rush said that everyone in that classroom today had taken the test.’ She looked up at Nediah. ‘There was a girl, only a child. They were all children.’

  Nediah stopped walking. ‘You must think us monsters,’ he said quietly. Kyndra didn’t answer and the Wielder turned to face her. ‘I wish you hadn’t had to suffer,’ he said. ‘I wish you could have started out as I did. That first spark is a marvellous thing. You feel it burning in your veins and you think, at that moment, that there is nothing you cannot do.’ Nediah’s eyes were full of memory. ‘Sharing the power of the cosmos connects you to everything. It’s like touching life itself.’

  Kyndra glanced down at her bandaged ribs and then up at Nediah. ‘I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving mine.’

  The Wielder slowly shook his head. ‘I repaired the damage to your body, but I didn’t save your life.’

  Kyndra stared at him, uneasy in the silence that had fallen between them. Finally, she said, ‘I didn’t heal myself. I’m thanking you anyway.’

  Nediah smiled, though his face was tight with uncertainty. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s just around the next corner.’

  When she rounded the bend, Kyndra’s mouth fell open. She stood at the top of a slope – a path that clung without railings to the walls of a vertical gallery and wound a slow circle down to the floor. A starkly beautiful pillar pierced the middle of the cavern. It reminded Kyndra of a stalactite, its surface melted and then frozen in time. Veins of blue sparked through it, ghostly in the haze. Smaller pillars reached for the floor around it, some connecting and others tapering to a point in mid-air. However, none were as magnificent as their central cousin. It seemed to Kyndra as if the pillar disappeared into the ground like a tree root, possibly to emerge on the other side of the world.

  ‘We call it the Spine,’ Nediah said, watching her. ‘It runs through the middle of each gallery, from ceiling to floor.’

  ‘You mean there are more caverns like this below us?’

  Nediah’s eyes glittered. ‘Eight more, each smaller than the one above it. The Spine narrows too. They say it’s barely a hand’s span across when it finally emerges in the ninth spiral and its tip is as sharp as a needle.’

  ‘That would be something to see,’ Kyndra said wistfully.

  ‘Forget it. Nobody goes down that far.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Nediah frowned. ‘Have you forgotten what Hebrin said? It’s forbidden. And besides,’ he added, ‘you wouldn’t be able to breathe.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A natural deterrent. The lower you go, the less air there is. You have to be able to furnish your own and that’s an extremely difficult thing to do, especially when there’s not a lot to work with.’

  ‘I can’t believe that’s even possible.’ Kyndra stared at the subterranean space, catching the glimmer of quartz seams. ‘Why is it so dark?’

  ‘Darkness is good for the books.’

  Tearing her eyes from the twisting pillar, Kyndra studied the deep recesses set into the wall. Each was six feet high and contained four shelves, ingeniously carved to follow the irregular contours of the gallery. Words glowed faintly over each recess, citing field and subject.

  ‘How do you get into the lower spirals?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  She followed Nediah down the slope, taking care not to stray too close to the edge, but the drop gradually lessened as they neared the floor of the chamber. The Spine was even more intimidating at ground level. Kyndra’s eyes strayed up its length, searching for the point where it disappeared into the roof far above. She stretched out her hand and touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers.

  The pillar hummed, teasing the edges of her mind like a voice speaking in another room, a shade out of hearing. Instinctively, she listened.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Nediah’s words scattered the sound and Kyndra realized she stood as if frozen, hand glued to something that was now no more than a shard of rock. She shook her head and backed away. ‘Nothing.’

  Nediah turned towards a black tunnel that the curve of the wall had hidden from view. ‘The way down to the second spiral is through here,’ he said.

  ‘Does each one have a gate?’

  Nediah nodded. ‘Like the one we just passed.’

  Kyndra stole a last look over her shoulder and then followed the Wielder into the mouth of the tunnel. ‘I suppose they aren’t all as easy to open, though.’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  Another decorative gate awaited them ahead. Kyndra walked up to it, trying and failing to follow the sinuous turns of its craftsmanship. She glanced at Nediah, who nodded encouragingly at the iron ring. Kyndra reached out and took it.

  For a split second nothing happened. Then there was a crackle of light and the gate hurled her backwards. Kyndra staggered, grasping at the wall for balance. Nediah had prudently moved aside and she glared at him. ‘You knew that was going to happen.’

  ‘I thought you’d like to see the shield in action,’ Nediah said lightly. He seized the iron ring and turned it with ease.

  Kyndra eyed the handle cautiously as she stepped through. ‘What’s the trick?’

  ‘The shields on the gates are a test,’ Nediah said. ‘If a novice can open the gate, they have earned the right to the books kept beyond it.’

  ‘So why did it throw me halfway down the tunnel?’

  ‘Because you don’t share an affinity with either the Solar or Lunar power that created the shield.’

  Kyndra felt a bit disgruntled. Everything here is a test. ‘So that’s all it takes to get through the second gate. You don’t have to … do anything?’

  Nediah shook his head. ‘Having the affinity is enough.’

  ‘What about the rest?’

  ‘The real tests begin at the third gate and apply to all those that follow. It takes full Masters to open the sixth. As for the seventh, I doubt I could touch the handle.’

  They started off down the gently sloping tunnel and Kyndra heard the gate swing shut behind them. She winced at the solid clank of the latch. Alone, she’d be trapped down here. ‘How long do the gates stay open?’ she asked.

  ‘About half a minute.’

  The passage wound in a large circle until Kyndra was sure that they would end up back where they’d begun. Then they passed another numeral and emerged at the top of an identical slope and an identical gallery, though smaller than its sister above. The Spine continued its dizzying plunge into the floor.

  ‘This is as far as we go.’

  Kyndra let out a disappointed sigh. Although her legs ached, she wanted to keep on walking. She wanted to go where the great pillar led, to see sights buried in the distant, preserved past under the mountain. The air tasted of hidden chambers, rock and darkness.

  ‘You’ll have to hurry up and pass the test,’ Nediah said, a bit too cheerfully. ‘Become a Wielder.’

  ‘I said I wasn’t interested. And, according to you, even then I wouldn’t be able to reach the lower spirals.’

  Nediah dropped his smile. ‘You wouldn’t want to. That’s where they keep the worst kinds of writing and the worst kinds of power.’

  Kyndra tensed. ‘Power?’

  ‘Artefacts,’ Nediah said shortly, ‘left over from the war. Too dangerous to be kept near the surface where people might find and use them.’

  ‘What kind of—’

  The Wielder silenced her with a frown. ‘That’s not why I brought you here.’ He crossed to one of the shelves and prised out a large tome. ‘This,’ Nediah said, hefting the book at Kyndra, ‘is a
new novice’s closest companion. We made several copies due to its popularity. It’s one of the few texts that survived the war and though the language is a little dry, it may help to focus your mind.’

  Kyndra clamped her fingers around the tome as it started to slip. ‘Focus my mind on what?’ she asked dubiously.

  ‘Sensing your affinity. There is plenty in there about the nature of cosmosethic energy, where it comes from, how it’s channelled. Immersing yourself in that knowledge may help to bring you closer to it before the – second test.’

  Kyndra heard the pause and chewed her lip, wondering whether Janus had been telling the truth when he claimed that the next test would be worse. She awkwardly turned the huge book in her hands. ‘What about Rush?’ she asked Nediah. ‘I thought I was supposed to be learning from him?’

  The tall Wielder glanced around, eyes suspicious, as if he expected to see someone lurking nearby. Satisfied that they were alone for the moment, he said quietly, ‘I suspect that Master Rush is under some duress. You’ve been put with the Initiated for a reason and I doubt you will hear anything to help you there. Rush might also refuse to answer any question concerning the test.’

  Kyndra stared at the Wielder, ice trickling down her spine. The Council saw her as a problem, she realized, one that would best be solved by elimination. They want me to fail. She took a few deep breaths. Did Nediah know it too? Was that why he’d brought her here, to give her a fighting chance? She felt as if she were suffocating on the smell of old paper.

  ‘Kyndra.’ Nediah laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m not defending the Council’s decision or what Alandred did, but I believe in you. Brégenne believes in you and she’s never been wrong.’

  Kyndra’s throat tightened. Always it came back to Brégenne and her flawless record of finding potentials. Nediah couldn’t see what was right in front of him. He couldn’t see that she was an ordinary girl from an even more ordinary town, thrust into the middle of something so extraordinary, it would kill her.