Destiny's Blood (24 page)

P
ART
2

D
AY
B
REAKS

C
HAPTER
23

C
aptain Kipso
strolled down the walkway, his hands tightly clutched behind his back, his shoulders stiff and unswaying. Cailan waited patiently for him, the Malavant siblings flanking him. The rest of the crew was still inside the
Destiny
, tending to their dead and wounded.

All except Josmere, who lazily leaned against the side of the exit tube that linked the
Destiny
to the tired station. The docks that housed the
Destiny
were small, the farming community of the nearby planet of Vock rarely seeing traffic. Mostly self-sufficient, it was only sought out for its rarer plants, like the Booknots. Almost close enough to be a moon was the industrial planet of Lockor, where more resources were available and where they would have made berth had the
Destiny
been able to reach it with her wounds.

Josmere wished she could close her eyes for an instant. The song of so many Booknots tugged at her mind­—a song so similar to that of the Berganda that it stirred her soul and threatened to trap her in the midst of sorrow and loss.

Kipso was almost upon Cailan, and she forced her mind to stop wandering. She had already lost everything: her family, her home…and a woman she considered a sister. She was not about to chance losing Layela too, and she knew that whatever was to be discussed here involved Layela’s future.

She pushed herself off the wall and approached as the two captains hesitantly greeted each other.

Her movement caught Captain Kipso’s eyes and he studied her, her green eyes, green hair half tied back, and green skin, before looking back inquiringly at Cailan.

“She’s a friend,” Cailan stated, not looking back, not backing down, and not asking Josmere to leave, even when Kipso’s slit eyes made it clear he did not want this meeting witnessed by outsiders. Cailan added nothing more. Josmere felt her respect for the man grow
 
—
 
a rare sensation for her.

“Why did you destroy that civilian freighter?” Cailan asked before Kipso could find something else to object about. The fat man’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.

“You don’t know? Of course you don’t know.” Then he mumbled, “Captain Malavant died too quickly to tell you anything, or properly pass down the captainship.”

Ardin stiffened visibly beside Cailan, but Avienne became as still as a cat waiting to pounce. Josmere watched with interest, her fingers itching for the switchblade strapped in her boot as the fat man spoke so lightly of Yoma’s murder.

Cailan whispered, each syllable falling like a sharp blade, “Captain Malavant died quickly at the hands of Mirialers, refusing to betray a man he considered to be his friend.”

Ardin’s eyes narrowed. Josmere wondered if perhaps the siblings had not been aware of how their father had died. Avienne didn’t budge, but Kipso kept a close eye on her.

Not the fool I would have believed him to be,
Josmere thought.
I hope Avienne doesn’t down him before we learn why Yoma had to die.

Kipso sighed, his belly rising and falling. Josmere wondered if he had once looked younger too, like Cailan had before this day.

“Cailan,” Kipso began. He paused, his eyes darting to the siblings before resting on the captain again. “Malavant knew what he was doing, but that meant betraying Mirial.”

“He would never betray the Mother Star,” Cailan hissed, so fiercely that Avienne even broke her watch on the fat captain to stare at him.

“No?” Kipso said, eyebrow arching. “You don’t even know why he had to die. Why do you believe you knew the man at all?”

Cailan took a step forward, but the round man stared him down, fighting to stay his ground. Cailan said nothing and the air sizzled around them. A few of Kipso’s crew came forward, hands on the weapons at their belts. Ardin’s hand lowered to his own gun and two knives appeared in Avienne’s hands. Josmere took a step forward to stand beside Avienne, her muscles relaxed and ready for action.

“Captain?” a woman behind Kipso asked. Her eyes were trained on the siblings, but her hand shook just enough above her gun to tell Josmere of her inexperience. She grinned and lifted her chin, looking at the young woman, whose hand trembled just a bit more.

Then a single angry word sliced through the silence and tension. “Stop!” Josmere’s grin disappeared as she turned to see Layela storming down the walkway towards them. The two captains exchanged a brief glance.

Layela caught up to them, her eyes dry but her closed fists trembling where they hugged her thighs. Her words, though softly spoken, cut the air.

“There will be no more killing over this.” In turn she looked at both captains, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on Kipso, who looked away from her. “No more, captains.”

Cailan nodded respectfully and backed down, Ardin’s limbs were stiff as he did the same. Avienne sighed as she, too, followed suit. Kipso held out his hand and spread his fingers before lowering it. His own troops looked visibly relieved.

Layela took one more step forward, her hands no longer trembling, her fingers unclenched as she came to stand before the two captains, looking at Kipso. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible over the distant roar of departing ships.

“Why did you kill my sister?”

Kipso’s eyes strayed from hers, as though he could not stand to focus on the night in them. The casual way Layela chose to confront her sister’s killer tore at Josmere’s heart and she had to look away, choosing instead to keep an eye on the Mirialers.

The stale, old air of the station heavily draped the Berganda’s mind, the coldness of space tingling on her skin until all she could yearn for was sun. Sun, and the feel of strong earth beneath her. Kipso broke the spell with his words.

“Because only one can live, Lady.” He looked at Cailan pleadingly, but the captain did not even meet his eyes, focusing instead on Layela. Kipso sighed, running his fingers through his hair and revealing hidden white. “Only one daughter of the queen can live, if Mirial is to survive.”

Layela did not move, did not look away, and said nothing. Her silence was heavier than all the ships in the universe. To his credit, Kipso did not look away this time, his voice soothing as he continued, his words dimming his eyes just a bit.

“It is written in the texts, Lady. Only one queen can wield the ether of the First Star, lest the balance be lost, between light and darkness, night and day. Even your names say as much, in old Mirialer
 
—
 
Yoma means day, Layela night. Usually one of the daughters is killed at birth, but this time…”

A voice broke through and interrupted him. “This time the queen did not wish one of her daughters to die. She foresaw something different than death, Captain Kipso.”

Kipso’s eyes flared at Zortan, who strolled up to join them. Kipso flung his words like poison. “I would end your life now, traitor, if the Lady was not present.”

Layela ignored his words. Josmere, who was steadily moving closer, could not help but note the honorary title he had given her. She wondered how much Layela would lose for it.

Layela whispered a single word, one syllable that conveyed the weariness that clutched her soul. Josmere fought the urge to kill them all and take her to safety, far from here, where they could properly grieve and live again.

“Why?”

Zortan’s dark eyes met hers before bowing his head respectfully. “Your mother, the queen, had great visions, as did all queens before her. And she asked me to ensure your safety. Both of yours.” He paused. “I am sorry I failed you and your sister.”

“Captain of the Royal Guards,” Kipso spat out the words. “You kidnapped the daughters and then killed the weakened queen.”

His words were barely ended before Zortan was upon him. His long knife was in his left hand and his right hand clutched the front of Kipso’s shirt, their faces barely an inch apart.

“I may have my own haunted memories, Gobran Kipso, but the death of the queen is not among them. I would have laid down my life for her.”

“Nonetheless,” Kipso stood firm, despite the taller man’s grip on his shirt. “The First Star must be reborn, or we will all lose more than we already have.”

Zortan sliced the man with his gaze for a few more seconds before letting go. He moved back a few feet to stand behind Layela. The flower girl cast a tired look at Josmere as Kipso addressed her.

“Beyond these shields,” he waved towards the great purple mass that sprawled in the space beside them, “beyond that, is Mirial. And it is dying. And with it...” his gaze flickered to Josmere. “And with it, it will take all ether, all ether creatures, and possibly more.”

Layela’s eyes locked with Josmere’s, a question deep within them. Josmere managed a half grin and a shrug, but knew she had not fooled her friend.

“You must come with us to Mirial to help restore the balance.” Kipso’s voice lifted in a plea. No one said anything for a few seconds. Layela looked at Josmere, and Josmere hated herself for not being able to meet the blue eyes, unable to hide her own plea from Layela.

“I’ll come,” Layela said, her heavy words sealing her fate. Josmere closed her eyes, knowing Layela had made the choice for her; for her people. She couldn’t bear to hear it, but didn’t dare stop it either. She remembered a time when she was young and the song of the Berganda was strong within all the worlds.

“We’ll leave in one hour,” Josmere heard Gobran say, his words far away. “Cailan, the
Destiny
is welcome to trek home with us as well, now that our...differences are put aside.” Josmere did not hear Cailan’s answer, only the retreating steps. Knowing Layela was walking away pulled at every string in her heart. Still, she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, allowing the Booknots to soothe her mind. She longed to hear the familiar call of the Berganda.

She felt a hand on her arm. “Time to go,” Avienne said softly, and Josmere opened her eyes, surprised when a tear escaped them.

If Avienne noticed she said nothing, and they walked together back towards the
Destiny
.

i

The blade of the knife reflected the few remaining lights as it twirled up, spinning suspended for a moment in the air before falling back down, caught in a lazy motion.

“Do you always flip knives when you’re bored?” the Berganda asked from the other end of the bridge.

“Shouldn’t you be rooting somewhere?” Avienne asked. The knife vanished in one swift motion.

Josmere shrugged. “Gardens are airless and Layela wants to be alone.”

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “So you’re hanging here with me, instead?”

Josmere’s slender shoulders rose again. “It’s the only other place I know here, except the docks, which are overrun now.”

The smuggler girl sighed and leaned back against her seat, the old metal moaning in protest as she stretched back, her hands behind her head, gazing up at the barely lit ceiling, as dim as the future seemed.

The fleet of Mirial pretty much ran the
Destiny
now, repairing her. In under an hour that would change, when Layela and the Mirialers would leave them in peace. For now, the bridge was the only place free of them
 
—
 
Cailan had forbidden them access.

Avienne’s eyes ran the length of the nebula displayed clearly through the view screens. It was a beauty. Purple reflected down to its core, as thin as fairy dust from here, but Avienne knew it was quite thick up close. Lights shimmered at the edges of it, made visible by
Destiny’s
ultraviolet and infrared eye. At the centre of the spherical beast lay a faded light, presumably the sun named Mirial, from which many old men had recently claimed to come.

“Now that’s hard to believe,” Avienne mumbled. She leaned forward again, her skin tingling with anticipation.
A place to call home.

“What’s hard to believe? That someone would willingly hang out with you?”

“That we come from there,” Avienne responded, ignoring the Berganda’s sweet smile. “And that we want to go back. It’s a planetary nebula. What could still be alive in there?”

“Ah, how you enlighten me with your wisdom, my smuggling friend.”

“Don’t you know anything about space?” Avienne shot Josmere an annoyed look.

“Plant. Like planets and fresh earth.”

“A planetary nebula,” Avienne said, leaning back again, “means the star burped, shed its top layer, effectively destroyed its star system, and is now dying a slow, meaningless death.”

“Cheerful,” Josmere mumbled, her eyes trained on the nebula. “But I can still see the star.”

“It’s dying, not dead.”

Josmere sat back in her chair, her eyes still on the star. “Do you really believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That the First Star could be dying? That Layela could save it?”

“Why do you care? No offence, but aside from your two little friends
 
—
 
my sympathies, by the way
 
—
 
you don’t exactly seem like the, ah, heroic type to me.”

Josmere shot her a crooked smile. “Takes one to know one?”

Avienne smiled back. Protect your own and let the rest rot, had always been her motto.

The Berganda shook her head, still gazing out at the star. “It’s just, why would they take such a risky journey, and why would they need to bring Layela, and why did Yoma have to die?”

Avienne sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re asking the wrong girl.” She looked down at the Berganda. Josmere was folded in two and hugging her knees, looking more vulnerable than Avienne had believed possible. Or she was about to be sick. Avienne softened her voice. “I really don’t know, but I do know that Cailan is no fool. He would not believe in this if he didn’t have good reason.”