Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

  Nediah’s face was ashen. ‘It can’t be her,’ he said, but his voice wobbled uncertainly and Kyndra couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. She couldn’t bear to meet any of their eyes, except those of the dead man, fixed and unknowing in his head.

  ‘You aided her,’ Anohin said to Nediah amid the Nerian’s hoots of glee. ‘You brought her to us – to Kierik. And the meeting of their minds caused a shock powerful enough to sweep through the whole citadel. You have our thanks, healer, for helping to even the odds in this conflict. Consider yourself fortunate that you had our protection too.’

  Nediah turned slowly to look at Kyndra. ‘The meeting of their minds?’ he repeated. ‘You can’t mean—?’

  ‘Master Nediah?’ came a woman’s voice. ‘What’s going on here? Why are you—’ She broke off at Anohin’s baleful glare. Recognizing the voice, Kyndra looked up and saw Master Juna, the Wielder who had taken over Rush’s classes. ‘Nediah?’ Juna asked again, her eyes travelling over the Nerian. ‘What are you doing with them? The Madness is—’

  This time it was the woman beside Caendred who moved. She bared her teeth and a knife of moonlight appeared in her fist. Then she lunged forward and slashed it across Juna’s throat.

  But the Wielder was too quick. She jumped back out of reach and the knife left a thin trail of blood on her skin. A silver glow enveloped her.

  ‘Take her down,’ Anohin said contemptuously and a dozen Nerian rushed Juna, who threw out a barrage of Lunar strikes. She managed to injure a couple, but Kyndra knew it was useless.

  ‘Nediah!’ Juna screamed as a blast of energy hurled her to the floor. ‘Help me!’

  Nediah’s face was terrible. He let out a sob and tried to rush to her aid, but three men caught him roughly across the chest and held him back. Juna let out one last shriek and then her shield collapsed and the Nerian were on her like a pack of wild dogs.

  Shaking, Kyndra turned away, only to look straight into Anohin’s eyes. The Yadin smiled at her and then with a shouted command swept up the Nerian and advanced down the corridor with Kyndra and Nediah penned in their midst.

  They encountered dozens more victims of the Madness and the killing continued relentlessly. Blood flecked the Nerian’s faces and Kyndra looked for remorse in their eyes, but all she saw was fervour and a terrible, determined joy.

  They met their first concerted resistance just before they reached the atrium. It was led by Alandred, and Kyndra was hugely relieved to see him – it meant that at least some Wielders had escaped the Madness. His craggy face was creased with fear and Lunar light sheathed his body. There was a shout behind Kyndra and then a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. Caendred leapt past, straight into Alandred’s path. ‘Brother,’ he growled. ‘It’s been too long.’

  Kyndra watched Alandred’s fear harden into rage. ‘I have no brother,’ he spat, his bulging eyes looking as demented as Caendred’s. The silver light strengthened around his body and Caendred called upon his own power to shield him too. Shining and evenly matched, the brothers faced each other like armoured knights squared off for a duel. As they began to fight, each holding a pulsing fistful of splinters, other Nerian leapt into the fray, engaging those behind Alandred. Kyndra found herself pushed further back, away from the fighting.

  Blood began to streak robes and skin, dripping from gashed faces. The sharp reek of burned flesh – so morbidly familiar to Kyndra – rose from the melee. Anohin and Kait held back, letting the bulk of the Nerian loose on the Council’s Wielders. The fifty or so rebels attacked in a bestial pack, their blows driven by the promise of a freedom long denied. Slowly the Wielders gave ground, edging back towards the great entrance hall and dragging their injured with them. Sensing victory, the Nerian’s onslaught intensified until at last the Wielders turned and broke for the atrium.

  The first thing Kyndra saw upon entering the now shadow-draped hall was Loricus. The councilman spearheaded a phalanx of Wielders, behind which Alandred’s broken group recovered. Loricus’ face was black and the eyes he turned on Kyndra full of hatred. She unwittingly took a step back, such was the force emanating from that gaze.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me the Nerian,’ the councilman said to her. ‘I would never have been able to defeat them on their own ground, but this –’ he swept a hand at the open space around them – ‘this is my field.’

  ‘Where are the rest of your Wielders?’ Anohin called then, striding forward. ‘Surely you can’t expect to rout us with so few?’

  ‘An unexpected hindrance,’ Loricus agreed coldly. ‘But most of these are Solars. I don’t see quite as many in your ranks.’

  ‘The morning hasn’t yet come, councilman,’ Caendred shouted. ‘And you will fall before it does.’

  ‘Silence.’

  It was Helira. The wizened old woman strode wearily out into the centre of the hall to stand next to Loricus. Brégenne was with her and so profound a relief flooded Kyndra that she wanted to cry. Brégenne was all right. Both women looked as if they hadn’t slept, but the circles surrounding Helira’s eyes were deeper. Her face seemed wholly composed of veins and shadows.

  ‘What do you do here?’ Helira asked Loricus, gesturing to the battle-ready Wielders ranged behind him.

  ‘I should think it perfectly clear, Lady Helira,’ Loricus answered. ‘There is an uprising to be put down.’

  ‘What about the girl?’ Helira pointed a claw-like hand at Kyndra. ‘Have you forgotten her?’

  ‘She has made her choice,’ Loricus answered. When the old woman didn’t reply, he said with a raise of his eyebrows, ‘Come, Helira. Has age finally stolen your wits? You must have realized by now what she is, what she will become.’

  Helira’s tongue had just begun to form an affront when her gaze met Kyndra’s and the words died. Kyndra looked into the old woman’s faded eyes and, as she stared, their colour deepened into blue midnight, becoming depthless and cold, until it was the madman Kierik that gazed out at her from the councilwoman’s face.

  Kyndra blinked and broke the gaze in the same moment that Helira gasped. Kyndra shook her head. There was no madman, no piercing scrutiny, only an old woman, clutching her shaking hands to her face. Helira had never looked so small to Kyndra. Her hair was scraped up too tightly and the red-slashed robes hung on her thin frame. Kyndra tried to concentrate on those things, but Kierik’s eyes would not leave her alone. They were there in the brief darkness behind each blink, asking her, acknowledging her.

  ‘What are you?’ Helira said, horror rasping her voice. The atrium was now completely silent. Kyndra stood with the bloodied Nerian behind her and Loricus’ hostile Wielders in front. Caught between the two, she felt intensely alone. It was Brenwym all over again, the whole town arrayed against her while the Breaking rained down chaos upon them all.

  Loricus smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you tell her, Starborn?’ he said.

  29

  The walls resounded with her laughter.

  In a silent hall full of silent people, all of whom stared at her in open shock, Kyndra laughed. It was a dark noise, and reminded her of the time she’d stood brazen under the crystal ceiling and laughed at Realdon Shune. That man had made outrageous claims too, chiefly that the Sartyan Empire could be resisted. For how long? she’d asked mockingly, sweeping out a hand through a ray of sunlight, feeling it upon her skin. Will you sit behind these walls until the empire covers all Acre like a fetid sea? What then? The tide will not stay out forever.

  Now she stared at the two before her and their Wielders behind. She stared at the opaque black walls and the high, indifferent windows through which the stars could still be seen. Much was lost, many perished, but through her efforts Solinaris had survived.

  No, Kyndra thought desperately, pushing Kierik’s overbearing presence away, I am not you.

  ‘No,’ she said aloud and took several steps forward. Helira drew back. ‘You really believe this,’ Kyndra said wonderingly, looking at her nervous face. ‘It’s crazy. I don’t have any p
ower, I failed the test twice.’

  ‘Yes,’ Loricus said. ‘And you would continue to fail it, at least until the madman dies.’

  ‘Madman,’ Kyndra muttered. She raised her voice. ‘You mean Kierik?’ When Loricus nodded, she said, ‘What’s he got to do with me being … with what you claim?’

  ‘Only a single Starborn can exist at any one time,’ Helira answered her, thin fingers clasped tightly. ‘Kierik’s mind and power may be lost, but that doesn’t change what he is. While he lives, you cannot inherit.’ She paused, evidently thinking it through for the first time. ‘It explains how you are able to survive such blasts of cosmosethic energy. Even in this state, you have some resistance.’

  ‘The situation is irregular,’ Loricus cut in. ‘Starborn do not usually lose their minds to age or infirmity.’ His hazel eyes swept over the Nerian, lingering on Anohin’s face. ‘The madman’s fate was engineered many years ago. He must have had enemies. As to how he gave them the opportunity to strike, and why he was unable to prevent their actions, we remain ignorant.’

  Kyndra stared at the councilman, wondering how much he knew. Was Loricus aware of Medavle’s role in Kierik’s downfall? Did he realize just how far Kierik had gone to end the killing? She grimaced at the paradox: killing to end killing. Although Kierik’s use of the Yadin had backfired, she reminded herself, thinking of the madman’s blackened cheeks. There was always a price.

  Standing alone between the two opposing forces, Kyndra suddenly understood why the Nerian existed and why they had endured a stunted life in the Deep. A group of people brought together by shared knowledge, united in the conviction that they were right. She looked at the smudged, resolute faces behind her. The truth was powerful, they’d said, and important enough to uphold through the years, to defend from indifference. It was the vow of fealty she had taken. Not only did the Nerian honour Kierik’s sacrifice, they acknowledged it. They bore it as a matter of fact.

  ‘Enough of this,’ Helira said loudly. She straightened her back. ‘The girl must take a Wielder’s Oath. I see no other recourse.’

  Loricus looked at her sharply, but said nothing.

  ‘What’s a Wielder’s Oath?’ Kyndra asked, sensing she would not like the answer.

  ‘Simply that you will bind yourself into the service of the citadel,’ Helira told her. ‘You will dedicate your life to the furtherance of Naris and to her ruling Council. You will never bring harm here.’

  Two vows in one night, Kyndra thought. This, she knew, was the oath Kierik had thrice refused to swear, each time he had appeared before the Sentheon; it was the root of their distrust of him. For the first time, Kyndra felt an unwelcome kinship with the man who had once perhaps been the most powerful individual in the world.

  ‘Why must I swear an oath,’ she asked, ‘if I can’t even use this power you believe I have?’

  ‘You cannot use it only so long as the madman lives,’ Loricus said, ‘and Kierik is old. Even Starborn are mortal.’

  ‘You think he’ll die soon?’

  ‘Who can say?’ Helira answered. ‘Perhaps he’ll pass in your lifetime, perhaps not. Without the ability to become a true Starborn, your own life may be as short as an ordinary person’s.’

  Kyndra clenched her fists against the cold rising in her stomach. She drew a breath with difficulty. ‘You are telling me that I have to stay here and dedicate my life to Naris, to a place where I’ve been tortured and kept prisoner, just in case Kierik dies? A man who’s lived for centuries?’

  ‘You will be given certain freedoms,’ Helira said. ‘Supervised, of course.’

  ‘What about my family?’

  There was a pause and then Helira said, ‘You must sever all ties with your home. You will live here, be properly instructed.’

  ‘Instructed?’ The cold wave of fear and anger rose higher, closing over her. ‘I am not one of you. You’ve said so yourself. There is no one here who could teach me anything.’

  Silence answered her. Brégenne and Nediah looked strange to Kyndra, as if they had only lent her their familiarity.

  ‘Once you take the oath,’ Helira said finally, ‘you are bound by its terms. You must swear before all gathered.’

  Kyndra looked challengingly at her. ‘And if I don’t?’

  The old woman returned her gaze, unflinching now. ‘Then you will die. Here.’

  While Kyndra stood frozen, the hall erupted. She saw Brégenne confront Helira, shock in her face. Nediah seemed ready to leap to her defence, but Kait clamped a warning hand on his arm. Kyndra heard protest in the hall, even from Loricus’ Wielders – maybe she had some allies in Naris after all. Others, however, stood adamant. Kyndra spotted Hebrin, haggard but silent. She watched agreement blossom in the archivist’s pale eyes and looked away.

  She hadn’t meant to meet Alandred’s eyes, but the Master of Novices stood at Loricus’ shoulder. The condescension he’d always worn before in her presence wasn’t there. Now his face was troubled and more serious than Kyndra had ever seen it. When their eyes met for that one second, it was the Wielder who looked away first.

  ‘Quiet!’ Helira cried. The hall subsided, but the atmosphere had changed and the silence wasn’t as deep as before. Both the Wielders and the Nerian shifted restlessly.

  ‘So I have no choice,’ Kyndra said to Helira.

  The old woman’s face was grave. ‘There is always a choice,’ she said.

  Kyndra let her gaze drift out over the crowd. Their features blurred together, much like they had at her Inheritance Ceremony. She could choose to die. She would be free of it, at least: free from Kierik, the Nerian and from the citadel with its brutal justice. She would be free from the guilt of leaving Brenwym to its fate and from the pain of losing her two best friends.

  But as these thoughts chased each other through her head, she saw Reena’s face in her mind. Her mother’s voice seemed to ring in her ears and the familiar sound of it gave Kyndra heart. She blinked and the blur of the crowd resolved into people. She saw Brégenne’s wide, white eyes and Nediah’s darker, apprehensive ones.

  ‘Death is not a choice,’ she said to Helira.

  ‘So all the young believe,’ the old woman answered. ‘But if you had seen as many years as I have, you would understand that there is always a choice and that death is the last and greatest.’

  ‘Enough.’ Loricus advanced a few steps towards Kyndra. ‘I offered you the chance to work with me,’ the councilman said to her, extending his hand. ‘If you do as Helira says, that offer remains open.’

  Helira slowly turned her head to look at Loricus, eyes narrow and questioning.

  ‘Swear the oath,’ Loricus continued, ‘and stand beside me. Then when the time comes and everything is as it should be, you may ask a boon. Consider, Kyndra. I won’t keep you from seeing your family.’

  He was choosing his words carefully, Kyndra thought. Judging from Helira’s uncertain face, she knew nothing of Loricus’ plans for power. So this is the reason he told me, why he wants me on his side. He thinks I’m a— Even in the privacy of her mind, Kyndra couldn’t say the word, not when it meant her.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she told the hall. ‘I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. I don’t want power, or authority. Or to take Kierik’s place,’ she added to the Nerian. They alone had been unsurprised when Loricus told everyone what she was. Kyndra didn’t want to think too closely about what that meant.

  ‘You are not a full Starborn,’ Loricus countered. ‘You are untouched by the power and its corruption. But once it marks you, it will set you apart forever. It is the price that those who walk the void must pay.’

  And it seemed to Kyndra that the hall darkened at his words. She shivered and closed her eyes against the truth, knowing it came for her. When she’d gathered enough shreds of courage to open them again, she saw Loricus watching, waiting for her answer.

  ‘No.’

  A collective sigh passed over those gathered and Loricus’ face tightened. ‘You refuse
me?’

  Kyndra drew breath, feeling the strength of her conviction waver. If she chose to side with Loricus and the councilman successfully seized power, she could see her family again … Her heart beat hard in her chest, as if it knew it could soon stop forever.

  ‘I do,’ she whispered.

  Helira looked up at the slices of windowed sky, which were only just beginning to pale. And then she began to glow. She cupped her hands in front of her, as if she held a ball, and Lunar energy, like ragged silk, flowed down her arms. Something grew between her palms: a sleek, silver head, featureless save for two black eyes that compelled Kyndra to look into them. The thing pulled itself into existence, drawing more energy, and Helira trembled as she struggled to hold it back. A crack split below its eyes and a mouth opened, full of tongues that writhed like tentacles. Reptilian claws scratched at the air, drew back into light then re-emerged, scrabbling more vigorously.

  It was hideous and Kyndra stared at it, unable to escape the hypnotic pull of its eyes. She sensed something terrible about Helira’s creation and knew she would die in the next few moments. The test’s searing lances were nothing to this. Its purpose was solely to destroy.

  She heard shouting, but couldn’t turn her head. ‘No, Helira!’ someone yelled and Kyndra thought it was Brégenne. ‘Executis are forbidden by our own laws. If you lose control of it—’

  ‘I will not,’ Helira barked, but her brow was beaded with sweat. And then the thing broke from her grasp with a wail and screamed towards Kyndra.

  A low boom shook the hall and sparks stung Kyndra’s face, as a shining lattice expanded around her. The creature had broken against it, but was swiftly reforming. Loosed from the grip of its eyes, Kyndra looked around.