Stars and Sorcery 1

Chapter 1.

" 'Hope' is the thing with feathers--that pitches in the soul--and sings the tune without the words--and never stops--at all."
-Emily Dickinson










 

Water dripped onto his forehead in a slow, mechanical pattern. Lifting his arm up, he wiped the back of his hand across the liquid, clearing the hazard from his eyes. A low rumbling sound was heard soon after, he twitched but ignored it.

His boots made hollow clunks on the worn stone pathway, the noise echoed harshly through the tunnel. He looked over his shoulder (a nervous habit most people in his social class developed from the paranoia of being followed). Further down the tunnel he trod in a puddle. The noise screamed down the cavernous tunnel, making him stop dead in his tracks. He cursed himself for not being more observant, he cursed the puddle for inconveniently forming in that particular spot and he cursed his mentor for sending him down here on such a pointless assignment. Sure, he had been down here countless times before, he was one of the only three who knew the route better than they knew themselves, but he didn't want to be going to Locksmith.

He looked down at his reflection in the puddle. His hazel eyes were round with fear and awareness, making his clammy skin appear ghost-like. His hair, on a good day, was longer on one side and close shaved on the other, and it was black. Now, however, the close shaved side of his hair was horribly spiked and longer than he'd like, and it was greasy from unwash and filth. He didn't mind the dirtiness of his hair; it was the state of his skin he didn't like, the filth created a barrier between his skin and the air, disabling one of his most reliable senses.

He had been down there for days wandering along the track, often backtracking to explore a newly opened tunnel and record when the labyrinth will shift again. He had learnt of the labyrinth's creation and of the war it started. It was because of this that Ryan found himself covered in filth, standing in a puddle with his Bo staff in one hand, a mysterious letter in his pack, underground, traveling to Locksmith. He knew he was going the right way; he had been following the trail correctly, making sure he found each marking at each fork in the path.

Deciding it was safer to move than to stay in that cursed puddle, Ryan started off again, readjusting his coat as he went. He carried a small pack strapped around his waist. It contained a bedroll, leather gloves, enough food—if used sparingly—to get him to the other side of the mountain and out of the labyrinth; it also contained a book and flashlight. The sorcery that went into making the pack was complicated and dangerous. Ryan was lucky to have pillaged it before he started his journey.

Ryan had fast fingers and was often put in charge of flitching things from the higher class socials of Xenon for him and his mates. Most of this was food, sugary stuff like chocolate and caramels which he shared with his younger brother, Reid. Ryan's small family had plenty of money to get them through the week and buy the essentials but his mother couldn't provide all the time, so Ryan started picking pockets and taught Reid how to steal from shops and handbags, he hadn't started on actual pockets yet. Every now and again, Ryan would score lucky, often stealing up to one-hundred dollars, which he then gave to his mother, keeping ten for himself. He'd use the ten dollars to buy Reid and himself a tin of Turkish Delight.

Ryan was brought out of his thoughts when he reached a fork in the trail. He stood in the middle of three tunnels, each branching off in a different direction. One would take him in a three day loop back to Xenon, one would eventually shift in the next couple of days and he'd either be trapped or crushed, and one would lead him out of Xenon, out of the mountains, out of the grip of the Royals.

To freedom.

Walking cautiously to the left wall, he scanned it from top to bottom, looking over his shoulder back down the tunnel he came before turning his attention back to the wall. It was bare.

He walked to the right wall. Bare.

Slowly he moved to the tunnel in the centre. His boot collided with a small stone. The stone clattered a few inches in front of him, under the stone, on the ground, was a faint mark engraved into the stone ground. A triangle with no completed base-line; it looked like an unfinished 'A'. Just the marking he was after.

Again, out of habit, he looked over his shoulder before staring down the tunnel at a frisk pace, pushing the stone back over the mark to hide his route.

 

The tunnel was dark, dank and smelt of mould. This tunnel seemed darker than others, unsettling Ryan. Stopping for a moment he dug around in his pack and found his flashlight. He pulled it out and tested it, the light bulb blared to life before becoming extremely dim. Ryan growled.

Stupid, cheap batteries. He turned it off and shoved it back into his pack. He stood there for another minute trying to remember what his mentor had taught him. The spell for creating light.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably, he had never tried sorcery before, he knew the disastrous consequences if he wasn't engineered to wield such power. Holding out his right hand he carefully went over the words in his head, so as to not mispronounce them and end up in a mental hospital. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart.

"Světlè vlamme." He spoke with authority to his hand, willing something to happen.

At once brilliant flames leapt across his palm and licked his fingers. For a few breath-taking moments he couldn't do anything but stare at the dancing flames.

It should hurt, it should be excruciatingly painful but the flames felt as cold as ice. The flames cast a rather large circle of light around Ryan, the unsettling feeling in his stomach left before returning with such brutality that Ryan almost threw up. What if someone else was down here? Ryan racked his brain, trying to remember the spell he needed.

"Lagù durimin"

The flames dwindled to nothing more than a couple of firefly sized orbs. The light projected by the previously dancing flames died to nothing but a thin, torch-like beam. Ryan closed his hand and the beam died completely, he opened it again and the beam obeyed his command, returning to the thin torch beam.

Satisfied, Ryan continued, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. The tunnel was dry and filled with scuttling beetles that seemed to know to keep their distance. Ryan had never seen any beetles with such elaborate markings on their shells. One beetle almost dared to run under Ryan's foot as he walked.

At eighteen, Ryan was experienced when it came to navigating the labyrinth. He watched its changes, followed its movements, breathed with it. No-one would believe him when he said the labyrinth was alive.

"It's a stone formation, Ryan."

"Of course it's not alive! It's as alive as the ant smooshed on the bottom of my shoe."

"Stop fantasizing, lad."

The only other person, apart from his ten-year old brother, to believe him was his mentor. Ryan had arrived late to a lesson one day, his book bag laden with scribbles of potential maps to the labyrinth and what could be found inside. On every piece of scrap paper he could find, were theoretical maps and the ever present Ʌ marking. Each marking was written neatly in flourishing handwriting with a very expensive calligraphy pen he had nicked from a hobby shop uptown.

That's when he started to learn about magic and sorcery.

"Magic is trickery, Ryan. The art of illusion. Sorcery is true manipulation, the power to convert ones thoughts and feelings into power, no hidden strings, no fancy tables, genuine real witchcraft.

"Usually only certain Royals have sorcery in their blood. You're one lucky lad." Ryan had never understood what his mentor meant by that till now.

Ryan's forehead collided with a stalactite with a solid thump. Wincing in pain he moved the bean of light to the rock formation. An unsettling sight greeted him.

Engraved on the tip of the rock was a skull and cross-bones, above that was the mark, the tip of the triangle pointing to the right, away down a low tunnel.

Taking one last look at the tunnel the death omen pointed, Ryan started down the new tunnel; confident he was on the right track. A sudden noise caught his attention, a growling sound. A loud growling sound. Ryan stood rigid. Something was behind him; he could feel it's breath on the back of his neck.

"Světlè vlamme"

The flame on his hand leapt to life, igniting the darkness around him.

The thing seemed to hold its breath. Ryan turned around, bracing himself for whatever trouble he just walked into. He was confronted by a creature larger than he'd ever seen. Its head, when held at the proper height would reach the ceiling of a single storey house. The low roof of the labyrinth's tunnels restricted it to no higher than six-and-a-half feet, half a foot higher than Ryan.

Its snout was two feet long and ended in a graceful curve. From the front it looked like a dragon from ancient times, but it wasn't a dragon. It would have killed Ryan on sight. It had two small eyes, sitting in the same place a horses' would. They were a stunning light blue in colour. Ryan looked down its side. It had four legs, two on each side; it had an extremely long tail that ended at the entrance to the tunnel the death omen pointed.

Ryan looked back to its head; it had two extremely long antennae that ended in a flourish of feathers patterned like a jay's wings. They were the entire length of its body, the tips reaching just a little further than the base of its tail, just over its rump. The feathered ends seemed to be pointing in Ryan's direction. It could hear him, those were its ears.

"You're a Lycan!" Ryan cried.

The creature seemed to screw up its nose at the name, its shook its head.

"No, sorry. A Lycan's a lizard. You're not a lizard; you're something more, aren't you? Something amazing." Ryan tried to think, he had seen pictures of this creature but he could never remember its name.

"You're a Lok!" Ryan exclaimed, pointing at the Lok with confidence.

The Lok seemed to smile and nod. When it spoke, its voice sounded young and it vibrated inside Ryan's skull; "My name's Lilac. I'm a Jay Lok." The she added sadly, "the last one left."

She sounded scared and very young. Judging by the sound of her voice and her size, he was only four centuries old. Lok's can reach fifty centuries; one human year is the equivalent of a day to a Lok.

Ryan felt pity for Lilac. She was the most beautiful Lok he had seen, she rivalled the elaborate painting that hung on the walls of the Royal Library.

"How long have you been here?" Ryan asked.

"MY whole life. When I was young, the Royals attacked my home and the town within."
Xenon. Ryan knew instantly she was talking about Xenon. He never knew Lok's lived around the town.

"My mother took me into the labyrinth, but she didn't know the route through, she was crushed when it shifted, my entire tribe perished. I'm the only Lok of Jay Empire left, and I can't get out."

Ryan watched her for a moment. She was a beautiful majestic creature; he didn't want to leave her. He opened his mouth to say something when a rock clattered somewhere around the bend behind him. Lilac stiffened.

"Cortar." Ryan whispered and the flames in his hand died to nothing, not even a tiny glow of embers. He slowly crept to the bend, his Bō staff held threatingly. He felt Lilac's hot breath on the back of his neck again.

He peered with one eyes around the corner. Two men, dressed in traveling cloaks were starting to bicker.

"I told you we should have turned left yesterday!" One yelled, his hands clenched into fists.

"If we turned left, we would have been killed by that blasted landslide!"

"I told you, this hell doesn't move!!"

"There was a landslide down that tunnel!"

 

Ryan weighed his choices. He knew the labyrinth better than his family history, and he knew ten generations of his family tree. These heavily dressed, greatly tired idiots seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the tunnels. It surprised him that they hadn't been killed when the labyrinth shifted two days ago.

He crept forward, his decision to conk the two on the head and move them to a tunnel that would surely shift in a day, made.

Without warning the two men drew swords and pointed them at Ryan.

Ryan cursed himself, he cursed the tunnel, he cursed the men, he cursed the trickle of water that had started to leak from the ceiling where the men were standing.

The water!

Ryan watched the ceiling, a crack had formed in a matter of seconds above them. Ryan started backing away.

"Hey! You, boy, come here this instant!" One of the men roared.

Ryan doubled his pace until he was pressed against Lilac's warm chest. "Back away." He whispered, she obeyed and started moving back. Without warning the labyrinth shifted.

The crack opened, forcing the entire ceiling to collapse, rocks and water fell on top of the two men; killing them instantly.

Ryan turned and ran past Lilac, calling over his shoulder for her to keep up. He could feel the ground tremble with her movements and that of the labyrinth. When he finally stopped, he was back at the fork in the path where he had found Lilac.

Lilac almost collided with him, she threw her head down, using her spiked chin to slow her momentum.

Ryan turned to her, "how have you survived down here for so long?"

Lilac gazed at him, her turquoise marking reflected the light from a couple of glow worms that hung on the roof. Her antennae flattened to her body shape. "I can hear it move."

Ryan didn't respond. Instead he carefully walked down the path again. Passing the place where the men were crushed. The wall was smooth, like nothing had happened.

Ryan created his flame torch and directed the beam to the base of the wall. Lying on the ground was a large piece of parchment; it was yellowed and partially torn.

"What's that?" Lilac had followed Ryan down the tunnel.

"I don't know." Ryan replied he picked up the parchment. He turned it over and found it was a warrant, a request warrant. He read it aloud; "On behalf of Royal Moore of Xenon, this warrant has been filed for the search of one Jay Lok. Wild. If tamed and already ridden, it is to be left alone.

"One such Lok has been seen in Xenon Stretch." Ryan finished the warrant, Lilac had started breathing rigidly.

Ryan folded the parchment and shoved it in his pack. "I think it's best if you stay down here." He stated before walking down the tunnel, not looking over his shoulder.