The Starmasters

Chapter 1
Darcy glared at the horse.
The horse stubbornly refused to stand still. Not for carrots, water, sugar, a warm blanket, coddles, or promises of a warm dinner. Darcy had tried everything. But this horse had always been trouble. It had been born, blinking, into the world shrieking like a banshee, causing its mother to kick it in the head so that it would shut up. It was constantly annoying; not for anything or anyone would it behave. And every month the irritating task of cleaning all of the horse’s shoes brought another argument with an equally angry horse.
“It will make you feel better.” Darcy pointed out. “No more stones in your feet- and how can you refuse this?” He waved a carrot in front of its face.
“All the other horses could do it. It will take 5 minutes and then we can finish. Please? Or are you just scared?”
The horse, whose name was Thunder, to match his temper, growled and a snort of smoke escaped from its nostrils and surrounded Darcy. Apparently that was a soft spot. It always was with the Quatos, the most dare-devil horse in Florӕny. No manners and a distinct pride. But Darcy loved working with them. Apart from the coin it brought in, as no other horse-man except him and Ryan would work with them, he enjoyed taming them, getting them to love him.
“Ah ha!” He pressed his advantage. “You are scared, aren’t you? I knew it. And look at these brave geldings over here.”
He turned to the line of horses waiting for him to take them around the city for their exercise. He proceeded to bow to each one in turn and gave the last one in line, his favourite horse Willow, a carrot to crunch and a kiss on the forehead. As the vegetable disappeared into her mouth, Darcy heard another snort and turned to see Thunder facing away from him, one leg up in the air with a martyred pose.
Darcy chuckled, picking up another carrot from a sack on the ground and giving it to Thunder. “There’s a good boy.”
***
Ava glared at the man. He had a narrow, weedy face, and pale blue eyes that seemed to pop out of his head. He was a Macrodian, obviously, from his clothing; ruffled shirt, tight trousers, a broad hat and the Macrodian symbol of a red dagger encircled in a flame of fire embroidered onto his shirt. As usual, these were all accompanied by a thick layer of dirt, sweat and blood. Ava had never liked the Macro’s. Their practises disgusted her, and more than once had Ava only been just in time to save her pet armadillo, Arnold, from their insatiable lust for blood.
“I don’t recall inviting you here.” She said in a smooth voice, not allowing the anger behind it to show.
“My apologies, ma’am, only Commander Barton instructed me to…check on things, as such.”
“You mean me?”
He twisted his hands together.
“Of course not, ma’am…your honour, it’s only that…”
Ava sighed. Of course she couldn’t expect to be left in peace. She was too dangerous, apparently.
“You may go, I am fine.” She said sharply. She doubted she would have liked him even if he hadn’t been a Macro. With that smug look in his eyes, she wanted to punch him. But that would only land her trouble. And her hand still hurt anyway.
“But….ma’am…”
“Go!” As she said it, her palm started to glow golden and rise from her side, her eyes flashing dangerously.
The man was gone in two seconds flat. Ava lowered her palm, smiling despite the pain. That showed him. But then she whirled around and stormed back into her bedroom, slamming the old wooden door. Stupid Barton. I do what he asks, why won’t he leave me alone?
Ava was a Starmaiden, who were rare now in Florӕny, especially in _______. Politicians fought like wild-cats over them, seeking to control the most to gain power. Ava had the misfortune to belong to Commander Edmund Barton, a revolutionist who demanded Ava do as he said – to help him gain the presidency.
Starmaidens had immense power. The power was everywhere in Florӕny, but only Starmaidens could harness it, and use to do what they wished. But if you were young, like Ava, the power hurt. Mostly it hurt the hand, which glowed when she used power. She had enough strength to destroy anyone who crossed her path- only the pain would kill her. Every day she had to practise, and it always left her gasping and stinging. It would get better with time, but for now, she was still weak.
However, Barton and his servants, who lived with him in the mansion where Ava also resided, knew that she was still a risk in a way. And that frightened them, and caused Barton to be continually watching her, something that made her very irritated. She wouldn’t have minded, if the intention of looking out for her had been in a caring way, like a mother watching to make sure her child didn’t hurt their head on the edge of the table. But Barton was more like a restless tiger, stalking her until she didn’t know when she could ever find peace.
She missed her family a lot. She was only allowed to meet them once a month, and she could tell her parents and brothers were frightened of her. Frightened of her power. Only her little sister Mina remained like a sister, always encouraging her with her toothy grin to be strong. Mina wasn’t afraid of her. Mina knew the real Ava- the one that was just as scared of herself as everyone else.
The first time she had visited them after she had been claimed, Mina had sat with her in the kitchen when everyone else had gone, tracing the outline of the tattoo of two stars imprinted on her collarbone. It was the mark of the serving. She wasn’t a citizen anymore, just someone to be claimed, to be owned. For her power.
“Pretty.” Mina had said, “I want some.”
“No you don’t Mina.”
“I want to join you, at the special house. And have people scared of me.”
“I hope that never happens.” Ava had whispered. “I hope you have a normal life with no one to throw hardship in your way.”
“But I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Mina, but I’ll still be able to see you. Just not as often.”
Mina had sighed, and touched the stars once more before kissing her on the cheek and leaving. Ava had never felt more alone.
Except for now. Today was her birthday. And what did she get? A stalker. Perfect. Just what she had always wanted.
Ava went to the window of her room and looked down on the street below. There were hundreds of people there, there always was. Washer-women, fishmongers, butchers, people buying, people selling, adults arguing, children running. It was colourful and vibrant. But being on the outside made Ava feel even more alone. There was a group of kids fighting over a slice of bread outside the baker’s shop, two doors down. She wished she could shake off her life and go and join them. For a second, it looked like Mina was among them, but when she looked again, there was no sign of her.
There was a knock on her door, the vibrations resonating off the wood. Ava turned and took in her messy and destroyed bedroom. To try and please her, Barton had given her the best room that he could find, but she did her best to throw it back in his face by screwing it up every day with her power. This morning’s rant had left her tired, and hurting, but it always came with the sense of satisfaction. She took her time before she crossed the room in her swishy high-heels, and opened the door, asking warily, “Who is it?”
“His honour, Commander Edmund Barton, requests your presence in the Dining Hall, Ma’am.” A smart looking servant stood outside, looking slightly annoyed at being made to wait.
“Requests?”
“Insists, ma’am.”
“Not much of a choice…” She grumbled, while she shut the door behind her and gestured for him to lead. As they travelled through the marble hallways, Ava, just out of spite, drew on her power and concocted a rare and painful disease to begin growing on the back of the servant’s neck. But even that didn’t satisfy her frustration.
Barton was sitting on a low couch, servants swarming over him as he was fed sweet-meats and shown important papers, to which he gave a glance and the wave of his hand.
When he saw Ava, he sobered, shooed away his attendants, and motioned her forward. Knowing that she was already going to be in deep trouble because of the state of her bedroom, Ava smiled as sweetly as she could and curtsied, the smile disappearing from her face as soon as her head ducked.
“How go you studies?” Barton asked, without interest.
“Wonderful sir. Of course I could work better without the interruptions.” She replied, hoping to get the Macro’s of her back.
“They are necessary. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. What if something went wrong and you were in need of help, unable to contact anyone?”
Like you care. “Of course, sir, I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Huh.
Barton smirked at me, the edges of his face turning up and crinkling like pieces of paper folding together. “Do you have what I need? It’s important.”
“Not…quite done yet sir. But I promise, by tomorrow.” Maybe. She smiled wider.
“Right, but will it work? I need to know. And I need to be certain before I use it and look like a fool.”
You already do.
“It will work, I am certain, sir. May I leave? You must have it as soon as possible, and you have already interrupted me twice today.”
“Yes, yes, go!”
Ava turned and strode out, resisting the urge to run and slam the door behind her. Just as she was about to sweep through the door Barton called after her.
“Make it blue will you? That’s important as well.”
Just because he had ignored her birthday, she glanced back and beamed. “Red it is, sir.”
Then she left.
***
Deep underwater in the Naya River of Florӕny, two women were fighting over whether to kill their enemy by poison or secret arrow. One argued that poison would be harder to trace, and would ensure their enemy died, whereas an arrow might miss the major hit spots. The other said that an arrow would create more of a scandal; the country would be in a mess over an assassination of such an important person.
The woman who was inclined towards poisoning the Starmaster of Florӕny had cropped hair and a turned up nose. She was short and ugly, and had an intense desire for revenge. She told no one for what she wanted revenge, only that it was her main goal in life, it was what she strived for. Underneath all the anger, she was a kind person, but events had forced her to kill or be killed.
Arguing with her was her polar opposite. Devastatingly beautiful and charming, she was a demon underneath, bloodthirsty and evil. She wanted to shoot the Starmaster, and nothing was going to stand in her way.
“I said, we shoot him! It’s the easiest way! Shipping poison here would take time!”
“Time we have!” Spat the short woman, Boa, yanking on the bow in her friend’s hands. “Why do you keep acting as if this is all happening tomorrow? Poison is what she wanted, anyway.”
“What does she know? Moreau said himself she was unstable. Let me handle this!”
“No! Give me the bow!”
“Get off! I’ll do what I want!”
“No you won’t.” The bow was ripped out of the beautiful woman’s hands and she cursed, leaping at her companion. Just as her nails, suddenly lengthened to claws, brushed across the other’s cheek, she was thrown back by a burst of golden light, pure energy that came from a source submerged in the murky bottoms of the river.
“Now, now, my darlings, won’t you play nice?” A fake motherly voice issued from the depths, sweet and sickening as honey. It was coming closer, bringing with it an unearthly smell and a headache for the fighting pair. They cringed, and bowed when the creature appeared.
They both knew who it was. It was Grace, the mermaid who had enslaved them both to work for her. With her black hair to her ankles and eyes in which you could see the world, Grace presented a powerful and terrifying figure. She appeared before them, feigning kindness on her face, and took the bow from Boa. She examined it before smoothly breaking it in half with the slightest twist of her fingers. Shelby, the beautiful but evil woman, flinched at the noise.
“I heard you two arguing.” Grace continued in a sweet voice. “It made me upset. I don’t like to hear my pets fighting.” She pouted.
Neither woman said anything. They knew better. Grace, seeing that she wasn’t getting any response, changed her tune.
“Now. You.” A long, thin finger was pointing at Shelby. “An arrow? Not what I want to hear. Did I not express myself very clearly?”
Shelby looked away, Boa looked scared. Neither had said a word.
“DID I NOT!” Grace shrieked.
They both jumped at the noise and hurriedly answered in the affirmative. Grace walked (as much as you can walk underwater) up and down in front of them. Then she stopped and bent her face down to meet Shelby’s. “Unstable, am I?” Her voice was quiet, her eyes furious. Shelby was frozen. The silence dragged. Grace curled her lip after a moment and straightened.
“Listen my sweetings.” Grace’s expression could literally kill. “Poison is what we will use. No changes. You have one week to find a way to get it to the Starmaster. I will get the substance. Do not disappoint me.”
Between one blink and the next, she was gone. Boa and Shelby breathed in- and they couldn’t. Knowing their time was up; they quickly rose to the surface to breathe fresh air.
***
The sun was shining its red light straight into Darcy’s eyes. Squinting against the glare, he sat up and reached for the time-keeper on the table beside his bed. It was past 6 o’clock already, and he was late. Ryan was going to kill him.
The way to the stables of the city was complex and confusing. After Darcy was dressed he walked through the streets, a little faster than usual, keeping a look out for some cheap breakfast. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to buy an apple for only 6 florics, although it was a little bruised. Rushing the rest of the way, he arrived, panting, just in time to awkwardly catch the saddle and stirrups thrown at him from inside the dirty stall belonging to Pinnacle, the tamest of the Quatos that Ryan owned. He stumbled back as a bridle joined them, all of the items filthy with dirt and sweat.
“That’s for being late. Make sure you wash those, Pin needs them tonight.” Ryan brushed past Darcy out of the stable, heading over to the wash station. As he washed his hands, Darcy dumped the dirty things and stared mournfully at his apple, now covered in grit. He went to the wash station and ran it under the water, then took a bite. It tasted alright, so he finished it before lugging the dirty saddle over to an empty sink and the stirrups and bridle to another.
Washing them took up most of the morning and then Darcy took Willow for a ride. He loved riding her. His favourite place to go was up the mountains, though he never got to the top, no matter how long he rode. He loved how free it felt, how he felt at one with the horse, and he could go anywhere, anywhere at all he wanted, although he always seemed drawn back to the mountains. And then his time was up and he was back washing stirrups again.
The forest that covered the mountain range outside _______ was beautiful, luscious trees and grass covered the ground, animals roamed freely, treating humans as friends and creating a paradise of harmony beneath the shade. It was beautiful all year round: in the snowy peaks of winter it was a winter wonderland. In summer, plants burst with colour and the cool hidden pools were shared by all. In autumn, leaves were everywhere and birds played frolic through them. And in the spring, new animals were born and all were in a state of celebration. Yes, to Darcy the woods were magic, and being there was what he loved best. Only the stable and his home could compare. But even they were small things next to the woods.
It wasn’t like he didn’t love his home, or his family. His mum was the kindest, gentlest woman in the world. And his little brother Ethan, although reckless and pretty stubborn, and downright annoying sometimes, he was always there to make him laugh at the end of the day. If only he could move them all to the woods….
No, that was stupid thinking. Calling a halt to Willow, he dismounted and led her over to a nearby pool of water to drink. Lying down next to it, he watched her drink, her strong mouthfuls flowing the water down her throat. Sometimes he wished he was a horse. He wondered if he would be as aware of life, if his clarity of thought would be the same. Would he still dream of running away to the woods? Would he still be him, just in a different body? Or would he suddenly only think horse thoughts; carrots and such?
No, of course not. He thought. Willows as human as I am. She thinks about running to the woods, too.
With that thought, he swung himself up and walked a few paces further into the brush, not looking back when Willow softly neighed him back, and found a rock that jutted out of the canopy of trees. The view was beautiful; he could see the whole of _______ in front of him. Most prominent was the huge training centre in the centre of the city, where they trained the Starmaidens who belonged to the city council. There were only five or six nowadays. The council used to own nearly 30. But lords and war heroes and rich men from other countrys had poured in and bought some for their own, and of course the city couldn’t refuse money. Not after losing most of it building the stupid training centre in the first place. And they couldn’t expect any form the king until Christmas every year. And that was only a meagre amount.
King Marthello, who ruled his country from the throne in the capital city, _______, gave a grant every year to each major city, _______, _______, _______, and _______. If a city exceeded their budget, they wouldn’t receive a penny more, no matter how desperate or hungry its inhabitants were, until the New Year. So _______ harvested it by other means, namely by the selling of Starmaidens.
Darcy had only ever seen a Starmaiden once, and it wasn’t a happy memory. She had just been sold by the city to a particularly ruthless and demanding lord, and she cried as the soldiers shoved her through the crowd of the marketplace to her new home. No one spoke as she passed. Everyone knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, within a month, she was dead.
Lord Anthony Marvil Westwick was a dreaded name- he was filthy rich and he bought a new Starmaiden every year. They always died; from stress or from being overworked. He also was very unkind to his servants, and forced many poor citizens to work for him or pay a heavy fine.
The thing that had surprised Darcy, however, had been how young and completely ordinary she had looked. If he had seen her at the Marketplace or in the streets for example, the only thing that would have struck him as odd was her eyes. Her vivid purple eyes. Most people in _______ had brown eyes. His own eyes were black, but that wasn’t too unusual. His mother liked it, she said it matched his hair.
Darcy looked at his town with a mixture of warmth and pity. He loved it because it was his, and unique and different in every possible way. But he also pitied it. Because none of the inhabitants, except for Ryan, of course, could ever feel as free as he did while riding in the mountains.
That reminded him. He should probably get back to Ryan and the stables. But as he came upon the pool where Willow was patiently waiting for him, a loud shrill scream echoed from somewhere on his right.
He threw himself to the left, unsheathing the small pocket knife he had hidden in his leather belt. Ryan had laughed at him for carrying it, saying that the knife would barely make a scratch on his enemy, and who was he going to fight anyway?
The scream was high-pitched; Darcy was sure it was a girl. What was a girl doing up here? And why was she screaming?
He motioned for Willow to keep quiet, then slowly, ever so slowly, inched towards were the sound had come from. It was late autumn, nearly winter, and the ground was quite wet from rain, but the ground was still covered in leaves. It was hard not to make a sound as he stepped forward, knife ready and in the air.
He passed around a tree and saw the girl just as she screamed again. She was lying in the middle of a circle of elms and beeches, struggling to crawl to the edge, her fingernails clawing at the dirt. She was small, and dirty, and dressed in patched boys leggings and a shirt. As far as Darcy could see, she was alone, but even as he watched she cried out again and clutched at her head, as though someone was attacking her.
He checked the sky and surrounding trees again before kneeling down next to the girl and saying tentatively, “Are you all right?” Of course she’s not all right, idiot.
The girl twisted around at the sound of his voice, but didn’t reply. He saw her eyes, full of pain, and then she screamed once more and blacked out, from what, Darcy didn’t know. What e did know was that he was now alone in the woods with an unconscious hallucianic stranger and he only had one horse.
But he couldn’t leave her there. She looked so helpless. And, Darcy couldn’t help noticing, quite pretty.
He sighed. No, he would have to take her with him. And do what? He didn’t know. Ryan’s house had a spare room that kept his old books in. Maybe she could sleep in there before she left, if she made it. In fact, what if she wasn’t unconscious? What if she was…..dead? Cursing his idiocy, he grabbed he wrist and looked for a pulse like his mum had once taught him.
He sighed in relief when he felt a pulse. Seeing no other way for it, he picked her up and half carried, half dragged her back to Willow, who was now getting quite impatient. However, getting her onto the horse took a lot more effort. And when she was secured in the saddle, she kept falling backwards and bumping her head against Willow’s tail. He eventually tied her hands around Willow’s neck, and rested her head in the horse’s mane.
He led Willow down the mountain to the stables, routinely checking that the girl hadn’t woken up, or died. Thankfully the stables where Ryan worked were on the outside of the city area, and Darcy didn’t pass many people.
“Okay, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.” Ryan gaped from on top of Thunder when Darcy reached the fields next to the stables, looking at the girl. “You didn’t kidnap her, did you?”
“No! I found her.” Darcy stopped walking and Willow came to a halt. “Help me get her down will you?”
Ryan dismounted and shooed Thunder away.
“Well what are we supposed to do with her? I run a horse centre, not a hospital. And what was she doing, all alone in the woods, anyway?” Ryan unbuckled some of the saddles straps.
“I don’t know. When I found her, it looked like someone was attacking her, only I couldn’t see who it was.” Darcy grunted as she slid from the saddle into his arms. “She was all screaming and stuff, and the stopped and just blacked out.”
“Put her here.” Ryan pointed to a sheltered spot underneath the stable porch where an old chair sat. “Why do you always get the adventures?” And when Darcy set the girl down on the chair, Ryan began checking for injuries.
Darcy grinned. Only last year, Ryan had left him alone in the field with half the horses, while he went to get something to comb out the burs in Angel’s coat. Angel was an old motherly Pinestripe from _______, across the sea. Bears were rare in Florӕny, but one had tumbled out of the surrounding trees looking for food. Darcy had waved a stick at him, and the bear, scared by Thunder coming to challenge hi, had melted back into the trees. Not very brave at all, really, but the tale had impressed many of Darcy’s neighbours.
“Well, she looks fine. Why don’t we try and wake her up? She can’t stay in this chair forever and I want to ask her a few questions.”
“Good point.” Darcy replied. “But, um, how?”
“Go and get some water and the most disgusting leather polish we have.”
Darcy went and returned with the items. Ryan firstly dabbed water on the girls flushed cheeks and forehead, than held the polish tine under her nose. With a sigh and a mutter, she opened her eyes, blinked, looked around, blinked again, and then her whole body tensed and she scrambled upright. Her eyes flicked between Darcy and Ryan, and he hand rested on her waist, where, Darcy hadn’t noticed; there was a belt with a shiny knife handle poking out.
Darcy didn’t speak. He knew he would probably only freak her out even more with his awkwardness. So he was glad when Ryan spoke in a soothing voice.
“It’s okay we’re friends. You can trust us, okay? What’s your name?”
The girl squirmed, like she didn’t want to give away any personal information, then a hoarse voice answered, “Pauline.”
“Okay Pauline, can you tell us what you were doing in the woods? Are you hurt anywhere? Remember, you can trust us.” Ryan tried for a smile, but gave up when Darcy looked at him oddly.
Pauline didn’t look like she could ever trust either of them. She also looked faintly affronted and annoyed at being asked if she was injured.
“I was picking berries. Can someone tell me where I am?” Her voice grew stronger.
Darcy didn’t even try to hold back a snort. As if. Berries weren’t even sprouting at this time of year. And neither basket not berry of any kind had he seen near her in the woods.
Pauline glared at him, and he realised that her eyes were a very weird shade but he couldn’t make them out properly. Before he saw them in a better light, she turned her head, and all he could see was her black hair.
Ryan was glowering at Darcy too. Then he turned back to Pauline and said, “Darcy said you were being attacked, but he couldn’t see by whom. Were they invisible?”
“Did this Darcy ever learn not to stick his nose in other people’s business? Or is he as rude and ill-mannered as a peasant?” The sharp tone in her voice what too much for Darcy.
“I saved you!” He cried, and she rolled her eyes as he pointed at her, and his temper grew. “You should be thanking me, not insulting me! I could easily have left you there! And then where would you be? It’s going to get dark soon. Were you planning to just camp in the woods with a concussion? Yeah that’d be a great idea. You’d be a sitting duck!”
“Shut up!” She yelled, and she rose to her feet. “I didn’t need saving, I was fine!”
“You were unconscious!” He roared. He was surprised at his temper, but something about her made him irritated.
“Darcy-“Ryan interjected, but Pauline cut him off.
“I was fine I tell you!” And she shot him a look of pure venom.
Disgusted, Darcy threw his hands in the air in exasperation and stalked into the stable, whistling for Willow to follow him. Ashamed at himself and annoyed at the girl, he threw himself into cleaning and blocked out any thought of her.