Page 14 of Darkness Births the Stars #1
CHAPTER
AFTER THE FALL
one year after the end of the Sundering Wars
Noctis
T hey said you could buy anything in the seedy underbelly of Triannon, the sprawling capital of the Kingdom of Mekat in the east of Aron-Lyr. I knew only too well that was not true. There were some things no amount of silver coins could bring back. However, they could buy me oblivion. For a time.
Triannon’s red walls spanned the entire mouth of the Trian River before it flowed into the serene waters of the Emerald Sea.
I found myself in a tavern in one of the city’s more disreputable districts, where makeshift tents were pitched between ramshackle wooden houses.
The unpleasant odors of too many beings living in close quarters lay heavy in the air, the stench of overflowing sewage barely masked by the mouthwatering aroma of food from half a dozen different realms and the cloying scent of cheap perfume.
This part of the city reeked of poverty and despair, offering debauchery of the less tame variety.
Triannon had been a melting pot in the long age of peace while I was imprisoned after the first war between Order and Chaos.
Members of all races of Aron-Lyr had come here to exchange their wares, making its citizens rich.
The narrow streets of the city had been renowned for their countless small art and craft studios, and its stages had hosted the continent’s most talented performers.
The Sundering Wars had turned Triannon into a lawless place, filled with the desperate, many too poor to afford a roof over their head.
Its Human king, Orest, barely clung to power, the city watch helpless against the criminal mobs dominating most districts these days.
Blending in was easy. Surrounded by others like me, people who had known only battle and bloodshed for decades, I found work as a guard.
The rich paid handsomely for the illusion of safety.
Rough laughter erupted next to me as Rabast, a huge Human with a square jaw and unsteady blue eyes, tumbled a scantily clad waitress onto his lap.
It was payday, and my fellow guard seemed determined to spend most of his silver coins on the first evening.
I hid my contempt behind a long pull of ale, wondering if he was oblivious to the way the raven-haired girl stiffened at his touch, or if he simply didn’t care.
The gleam of silver. A coin deposited into the girl’s cleavage.
In an instant, her mood transformed. A bright smile appeared on her face as she comfortably settled on Rabast’s knee.
The sharp outline of her collarbone was visible over the neckline of her dress.
A handful of coins more would convince her to let him underneath her skirts in the dirty alley behind the tavern at the end of her shift. Morals and hunger did not mix well.
In the early moons after my fall, I had avoided joining my fellow mercenaries on their nightly forays into the Undercity.
However, I soon realized that being aloof and taciturn only made it harder to fit in.
So, at least once a tenday, I willingly subjected myself to the revolting downsides of being Human.
“Another drink, handsome?” A woman in a gauzy red dress leaned on the table next to me, her sudden proximity making me tense.
Long coppery hair filled my vision; lips painted a vivid crimson curved into an inviting smile.
An intense flowery scent drifted into my nose.
Judging by her golden eyes and graceful movements, she was a Djein, a daughter of Zamani.
Perhaps one of the many fugitives ripped from their southern homelands by the war.
I captured a strand of her red hair, absentmindedly letting it slide through my fingers.
“Not tonight.” I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to pretend.
Shaking my head, I motioned to young Amris at the other end of the table.
The blonde warrior’s face lit up as the Djein scoffed at me and sauntered over to him.
I took another sip of my drink, the bitterness of the ale lingering on my tongue.
Experience had taught me long ago that this particular kind of escape would only deepen my melancholy.
Agitated voices and the sharp sound of axes splintering wood cut through the usual noises of the tavern. A woman’s terrified scream pierced the air. Ignoring the whisper inside me telling me that whatever was happening, I should not intervene, I rose from my seat and stepped outside.
“Bele!” Rabast called after me. I did not turn around. “Where are you going?”
They were destroying her temple.
It was a small shrine, nestled between two narrow houses, the statue in front carved from wood, not stone, the roof adorned with cheap glittering fabric instead of hammered gold.
Far less awe-inspiring than the Grand Temple of the Star Queen on the hill opposite the King’s Palace.
Yet it was a place of worship, and something clenched inside me as unworthy mortal hands hacked an image of her to pieces, even if it looked nothing like her.
They said that she had betrayed the Ten, that she had failed in her duty to her husband and the world, that she …
“Silence! Or we will shut you up.” A sharp male voice caught my attention. My gaze was drawn to two women cowering in front of the shrine, surrounded by a dozen Human men. Acolytes of the temple, their once white dresses dirty, their tear-stained faces full of fear.
While Baradaz’s Grand Temple had been desecrated under King Orest’s orders, I doubted the king even knew this shrine existed.
I noted the simple attire of the men threatening the priestesses, their gaunt faces and makeshift weapons.
No, this was simply the desolate taking advantage of a convenient opportunity, looking for someone to blame for their misfortune. For easy prey.
A crackling sound echoed through the street.
Someone had set fire to the splintered remains of the shrine.
The dry wood burned easily, the flames bright against the night sky.
Not wise in this district, where a fire could rage out of control in a heartbeat, consuming houses and tents in a blazing storm of destruction.
“No!” the older priestess cried out, her long, gray-streaked hair wild around her shoulders as she tried to escape her captors and run back to the temple.
At that moment, I knew things would escalate.
“Bitch!” A forceful slap resonated through the air as the burly man at the center of the group struck the struggling priestess. The sound of fabric tearing followed, accompanied by the lewd laughter of his companions as pale skin was revealed.
My feet carried me across the street with no conscious decision. Once the first line was crossed, all inhibitions would crumble. I had witnessed it often enough. The men circled the two women like a pack of mangy dogs scenting blood. Two grabbed their arms, preventing any escape.
“That’s enough! You’ve had your fun, boys. Now let them go.” My sharp voice sliced through the tension, drawing hesitant glances. The sight of an armed mercenary made a few pause.
“Mind your own business, merc.” The self-appointed leader of the riffraff glared at me over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “Unless you want to join.”
A sob tore from the younger priestess’s lips. Her blue eyes widened as she realized the danger they were in. Those two were faithful to not have abandoned the temple tendays ago. Faithful, but foolish.
“I believe,” I said, enunciating every word, my hand caressing the hilt of my sword, “the ladies do not appreciate your company.”
“Don’t see any ladies here.” A glob of spittle landed on the dusty road.
“Only harlots pretending to be virtuous.” The leader caught the younger priestess’s chin in a rough grip, forcing her to look at him.
“Why shouldn’t they be eager to have a little fun with us?
Their goddess spread her legs for the Fallen One like a common whore. ”
Another round of jeering laughter spurred him on as he brutally ripped the top of her dress apart.
“Oh,” I answered, my tone deceptively soft. “That was a mistake.”
The first man was dead before they even knew this was a fight, the edge of my blade a cold kiss across his throat as it slid out of its sheath in one graceful arc.
I moved before his body hit the ground. Two long strides, a strike to the left, piercing the shoulder of a thin, tall man, who clutched at the bleeding wound with a pained scream.
I parried the axe of a bearded man from the right, my booted foot coming up, sending him flying backward with a kick to the stomach.
The sound of steel slicing into flesh replaced the gleeful laughter of the priestesses’ tormentors, the men’s agonized screams a sweet music in my ears as I plowed through their ranks.
A warning scream from the older priestess rang out. “Behind you! ”
I spun around just in time, the blow meant to take me down grazing my temple. Shadows danced through my vision. A wild snarl left my mouth. My attacker paid for his daring with a blade to the stomach.
“Run!” I snapped at the two women. “Now!”
At least they were not so foolish as to hesitate. They vanished into an alley behind the burning temple, leaving me with the leader and two more men.
Battle possessed a unique beauty. An awareness that every moment, every move could be the last. It gave a clarity to the world that made it seem more , somehow—full of life, full of possibilities. Was this how mortals always felt? Not that these pitiful opponents posed a challenge.
I plunged my blade into the chest of one man writhing on the ground, ending his pleas for mercy with a gurgling scream. I wasn’t surprised when the leader attempted to flee in terror after I had eliminated the remaining assailants. Men of his ilk were seldom brave when their opponents fought back.