Starshot Page 5

  “They’re exhausted,” I say, and the breach in the Charre’s invincible myth is a comfort.

  “We ran all morning and afternoon to reach you,” Malo says. “We didn’t want to lose time.”

  “Lose time?”

  “Ignos sent a sign, Kaishi. Surely you saw it? A great fire in the sky?”

  I nod.

  “We were camped north of here, waiting to meet another of our bands, but when we saw where the fire touched the earth, we left to head this way. We ran into one of your village’s messengers as we traveled, he was quick to tell us what had happened.”

  “I went there. To where the fire touched.” There doesn’t seem to be much point in hiding it. “That’s where I found Ignos. He talks to me, and then I say his words.”

  “Then you are precisely what we need,” Malo says. “Whispers float through our cities that hordes from the mountains are coming, and that they have constructs so massive only Ignos himself could have built them. That they hold weapons which can spit fire.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “You are divine, Kaishi.” Malo’s hands twitch towards me as he says this, as though he wants to grab my shoulders. “At least, if you are telling the truth. What the Emperor needs now is someone to show that Ignos is still with us. To prove that the Lunare are not the chosen people.”

  As Malo speaks these words, his face transforms and his eyes pick up the same fervor that I saw when he bowed to me at the base of the Tier. He wants to believe me. He wants me to be the miracle his people need.

  You can be, Kaishi. They are looking for hope. You can be more than that - you can be real. Keep this one close to you. We can use him.

  Use him? The word is oily, somehow, and I recoil from it.

  You’re naive. Everyone can be used, and to carry out my mission, you will need to use many.

  Ignos’ mission. Preparing us for a new future. That is more important than any discomfort I might feel over simple terms. So when I realize Malo’s staring at me with worry, I do what I can to dispel it.

  “Ignos asks me questions sometimes,” I say.

  “A god asks you questions?”

  Malo’s point is a good one, but I’ve come up with my own answer to it already, one that Ignos confirmed when I suggested it hours ago. “He’s testing my faith.”

  Ignos says I should keep Malo close, so I climb the mountain of my rage and seek cool understanding on the summit. “You’ve seen my home, Malo, tell me about yours?”

  This sparks another, different expression from the soldier who I’m starting to think has a thousand faces. His lips turn up at the corners, he looks to some point west, and his mouth opens slightly before he talks, as if measuring the words for their worth. “Have you heard of Damantum?”

  The name is familiar, like a minor character in a story often told. I shake my head.

  “Then you have missed the greatest city in all the world.” Malo’s hands start to sweep as he talks. “Damantum covers an island with gold that glitters in the light of Ignos. Lush gardens float on its gentle waters. Markets throng in every street, offering wonders of which you and I can barely imagine.”

  I’m sure Malo would keep going, but I interrupt him, because there’s only so much adoration I can stand, “You sound like the Lunare. She talks of her mountain cities in the same way.”

  After I say this, I realize Malo likely has no idea who I’m talking about, but, to my surprise, Malo glances behind us. I follow and there, her hands bound but feet moving free, flanked by two warriors, marches Viera.

  “Unlike the Lunare, what I speak of is true,” Malo says. “When we reach Damantum, you will understand.”

  “Why did you bring her?”

  “To see if, underneath her boasts and lies, we may learn something of her brethren,” Malo says. “And once we do, her sacrifice will be a glorious one.” He looks at me, the fervor returning to his face. “I hope you will wield the knife.”

  10 The Gateway

  The far end of the first section is marked by a gateway; a broad arch bordered by soft green globes spaced every couple of meters. Every seed ship is made up of twelve sections split by these gateways, and getting through them before the Sevora lock the gates is imperative.

  Bas reaches the gateway first after scaling the twenty shallow, flat steps leading up to the door. As she does so, with Sax coming hot behind her, those soft green globes flip to a bright red. They’d taken too long, and now every second spent on this side of the gateway would give the Sevora time to organize a defense on the other side.

  To the right, next to a red globe at Sax’s chest level, there’s a black protrusion. Like a bulb, only opaque.

  “Mind scanners,” Lan says as she and Gar join them on the landing. Sax notes that Gar’s mid-claws, like his own, are red and wet.

  “Unless one of you has managed to get infected, we’re not getting this gateway open.”

  “I tried,” Sax offers. “But they died too quickly.”

  “Good,” Gar replies. “Because I would try to tear you apart if they hadn’t.”

  “I would like to see you try.” Sax opens his mouth slightly, shows row after row of razor teeth.

  “Cutters,” Bas interrupts, and she completes the interruption by stepping between Gar and Sax. “We burn our way through.”

  That’s all she needs to say. The four of them pull small cannisters with smaller tubes attached at right angles around them. They each stick their claws into the tops of those tubes and push down, mixing the volatile gasses, while the claw holding the weapon clicks the release.

  Lightning-blue beams spit out from the ends and slam into the gateway. Their fire concentrates on a small section, tracing out a square for them to fit through. The miners are so bright that Sax can’t stare right at them, but instead at the curling, blackened bits of metal falling to the floor beneath.

  In the distance, behind them, there’s the sound of equipment exploding. Bangs and pops signaling the destruction of seed ship gear. The Vincere forces have won the first battle, and too quickly. Victory means whatever Sevora forces remain will be retreating right towards the four of them.

  “Bas, trade you,” Sax says, handing his cutter to his pair, who gives him her miner. The motion causes a brief blip in the burning, but the delay is worth it.

  None of them wants to catch a laser bolt to the back.

  11 Fireside Chats

  Malo doesn’t halt the march until the jungle canopies disappear and stars shine. I’ve seen stars from our clearings, of course, but it’s my first time this far west and having an entire horizon splashed in Nomis’ glow stops me.

  We’re at the head of a valley that, after days and days of hiking, should lead us to the volcano that marks the true base of Charre territory. Malo’s laid out the course for me, and while I’m excited at seeing someplace new, every step takes me away from familiarity.

  Which is why, lying down on my cotton mat, placed over the rock-sand ground, I’m not able to fall asleep. The desert has its own sounds, but they’re not the ones I know. Monkeys and owls aren’t calling, the whistle of wind through the trees is missing, and even the insects buzz differently.

  Though, I notice, they still bite.

  The Charre replace the noises I know with clanking, chopping ones. Cook fires spring up, though I tell Malo I’m not hungry. Truth is, I don’t know if I am or not - everything is too much right now. So I stay there on the thin mat, feel the rocks dig into my back, and talk to Ignos.

  You tell me these Charre are greatly feared?

  As much as any one group can be, I suppose. Fear, I think, might be the wrong word. It doesn’t do us much good to be afraid in the jungle because there are so many ways things can go bad. Rather, I would say the Charre, of all people, are the ones most likely to destroy what we have. If that is fear, then yes, we fear them.

  And yet, they seem to value you.

  It’s not me they care about. It’s him. Ignos is who
they’re looking for.

  But they believe you. Malo does, at least. He’s your path to power.

  Power for what?

  Anything. Once you have the resources, that bracelet on your wrist will give you everything you could ever need.

  I look at the Cache, but it’s not much now. A simple thing sitting on my arm. It doesn’t flash, or whisper secrets in my mind. I try to will it to do something. Tell it to light up.

  “Work,” I say to it.

  “Who are you talking to?” Malo asks, sitting down beside me.

  Before I respond, he hands me a bundle of maize in a thin tortilla.

  “I said I wasn’t hungry.” I take it anyway and Malo smiles.

  “Everyone’s hungry after a hike like that. I can’t have you tired tomorrow. It’s going to be a long walk.”

  The food is bland, but my stomach likes it fine and I devour the whole thing in three bites. Malo even has a skin of water for me, and I squeeze some out into my mouth. It’s warm, stale, and delicious.

  After I’m done, Malo takes the skin back and notices I’m looking at his hands. Trying to see if he brought more. He laughs. I can’t help but crack a small smile too. Then Malo’s up and away, back a second later with another tortilla. This one, along with the maize, has bits of meat in it. I recognize the iguana, though the strange green circles scattered throughout are new to me.

  “Take it in small bites,” Malo says. I don’t really listen and take a third of the tortilla in a single chomp.

  The warmth comes slow, but it builds into incredible heat. The insides of my mouth burn, and as my eyes go wide, Malo hands me a small bowl full of a light orange juice. I drain the whole thing, the mango sweetness staving off the feeling that I’m about to die right there.

  What are you doing? Did he poison you? Why are you burning?

  I suck in mouthfuls of air, and then I notice Malo is laughing again.

  “A little bit at a time, priestess.”

  I note the title and wonder if that’s going to be me from now on.

  The priestess.

  Focusing on that does more than the mango juice to quiet the burn, and, as my mouth calms down, I find myself reaching for the tortilla again. Malo holds it away.

  “You’ll take it slow this time?” Malo says and I nod.

  I’m true to my word, and, with little bites of fire, I finish the tortilla. When I’m done, Malo’s expression is more serious than I’d expected.

  “What’s wrong?” I say.

  “You’ll have to learn to like the peppers,” Malo says, and I can tell this isn’t a casual conversation any more. “In Damantum, you’ll eat with priests. Maybe even the Emperor. They will look for signs Ignos isn’t with you. That you’re lying. No priestess of the Charre will refuse our own food.”

  “Everyone likes these in Damantum? I’ll be doubted because of a pepper?”

  “By those who fear your power, yes. I’ve seen many of my own warriors placed on the altar because the priests found some way they had displeased Ignos.” Malo’s annoyed, and this is the first time I really see why he’s the leader here. “There are those in Damantum who would trample over anyone in their path. We have days ahead of us, priestess. If you would like, I want to use our evenings to teach you how to survive in my city.”

  I don’t need Ignos’ advice to say yes to that one, and shortly after Malo vanishes into the night, saying we should both get what sleep we can. Except now I’m thinking about the den of snakes I’m walking into and its enough to keep my mind churning.

  Until I hear laughter not far off. I roll over on the mat and look and there’s the Lunare, Viera, talking with a pair of Charre around their fire. They’ve unbound her arms, which means they must think she’s not a threat. Viera’s in the middle of some story, and her hands are waving around, her ragged clothes looking ridiculous, and I can see why the Charre don’t think she’ll cause any harm.

  But you don’t agree. Why?

  Because the Lunare have a history. Because they trade, yes, but they also take. The Solare, what tribes we have left, have been squeezed between the Charre to the West and the Lunare in their mountains to the East. Oceans cover the other two directions, trapping us. Father believes Ignos will save those of us who are left, and I believe him. I do. But we’re running out of time.

  You didn’t answer my question, Kaishi.

  Why is Viera dangerous? Because I know what the Lunare leave behind when they raid a tribe. The burned-out corpses with dark holes in their bodies. Houses torn apart and looted. Anyone not dead is, we think, taken away. To what end, we don’t know.

  I don’t think Viera’s like the others - I’d even call her my friend but Father’s warned me enough times that she’s going to bring trouble that I can’t dismiss it entirely.

  Then why do your tribes not band together and strike? Defend and attack as one?

  It’s not like the Solare haven’t tried. It’s not like my father and the other elders haven’t met with other tribes and talked of an alliance. Every time he returns with a shaking head and grumbles of power, and how hard it is to give up a little, even in the face of losing it all forever. So we trade what we can with the Lunare and hope they’ll leave us alone.

  Then why don’t you try something different?

  I look over at the fire and Viera, still chattering. It doesn’t take much thought to see where Ignos is going with this, and I’m not tired yet anyway, so I sit up from my mat and, after pulling my mosswrap around me to cut the chill night breeze, head over towards their fire.

  The Charre warriors glance at me as I approach and the simultaneous moving of those big, brown bear heads and their gleaming teeth swinging in my direction makes me pause. They won’t hurt me, I tell myself, because if they’d wanted to have me dead, it would have happened before dinner. No sense wasting food on a body.

  “Hearing my stories?” Viera speaks to me. “How do they match up? Figure a priestess has to have some good ones of her own.”

  The flames give her face a luminous glow, and the shadows play between her large eyes and the wisps of snow-white hair playing down her forehead. Interrupted, Viera’s hunching over the fire, as though she’s trying to hug the flames. Before I ask how she can stand the heat, Viera straightens, turns, and leans her back over the burning brush.

  “Are you cold?” I ask, ignoring her question.

  I have stories. Plenty. We’ve swapped some during our jungle runs.

  “You see the snow on top of the mountains?” Viera replies, and I note that she’s talking in Solare tongue. “You probably think it’s cold for us. That we should be used to it?”

  The warriors return to watching Viera with quirked smiles, and I realize that they don’t understand a word of what the Lunare is saying. They’re laughing because holding one’s self over a fire looks ludicrous. I’m so used to both languages that swapping between Charre and Solare tongues comes as naturally as breathing.

  “But we go deep,” Viera continues. “Our pathways hollow so far that we catch the heat of the world. It’s like this fire here, but everywhere and all the time. So yes, I’m cold.”

  I take my own seat near the fire. The sand is warm on my legs, soft and smooth. Straight back the way we came, beyond the camp, the jungle trees dance back and forth in the breeze. The Lunare live deep in the mountains. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not see the sky, and turn away from the thought.

  “They can’t understand you,” I say, and it takes a second for Viera to realize that I’m talking about the warriors.

  “You can’t understand me?” Viera says the words in Solare and the warriors greet the phrase with blank stares. “Interesting. I guess that means I can spend all day insulting them and nobody will know.”

  “I will,” I say.

  “Yes, you will,” Viera says the reply slowly and sits back from the fire, looking at me. “Why’d you come over here, Kaishi? Lonely?”

  “Because you were talking so loudly I coul
dn’t get to sleep,” I reply.

  “It’s a habit of mine.” Viera shrugs. “Is this a warning? Is Ignos going to strike me down if I don’t let his priestess rest?”

  The casual blasphemy bites my ears, and I’m about to scold her for it when Ignos rushes through my mind.

  Look past the flaws to what she can bring us, Kaishi. I will forgive anything said against me so long as you achieve my goal.

  Ignos makes sense, so I give Viera a toothy smile, “He might, if I ask him to.”

  Viera laughs at this, and it’s a bouncing, joyful thing. How she can make such a sound in a situation like this is beyond me. When Viera looks my way again, her green-yellow eyes are shining with mirth.

  “I thought I would be stuck with dead-eyed warriors,” Viera says. “I’m happy they took you along, Kaishi.”

  “Happy? How can you be happy surrounded by enemies?” I blurt out the question, because there’s nothing in the Lunare’s tone that speaks of sarcasm.

  Viera is, as far as I can tell, genuinely enjoying herself.

  “Do you know why I stayed behind when my people returned to the mountains?” Viera asks and I shake my head. “Because of these.” The Lunare points to the sky and the starry tapestry. “They’re beautiful. So much more so than the rock ceilings that have kept my nights company for so long.”

  “The stars won’t walk for you,” I say. “And I don’t think these warriors will mind leaving you behind.”

  “Then I think we’ll have to work together, Kaishi,” Viera says. “This isn’t just another jungle run. It’s an adventure, one I think you’ve been waiting for. I know I have.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  “You won’t, Kaishi,” Viera’s smile falls away.