Chance of Stardust

Stardust (ch 1)

The city burned. Smoke rose in a concealing cloud over most of the crown city of Gael, obscuring the wash of stars that filled the sky. Revelin snarled at the sight, his sharp canines flashing in the hailstorm of laser fire that rained on the devastated city. Behind him, the four other hirrient warriors who comprised the Royal Guard adjusted their weapons, soft growls thundering at near sub-audible levels. Once again, their home had been attacked by the Gurot. The first time, they had been children and unable to fight back. This time, they were honor bound to turn their backs on the fighting and walk away.  Two black marks that could only be erased by blood—Gurot blood.


The slender boy in their midst pushed forward to stand beside Revelin, staring out over the devastation with pale green eyes bright beneath the silver fall of his near white hair. He shivered from time to time as the cool night breeze cut through his thin bedclothes. There hadn’t been time to dress when word of the attacks had come.


“Father wasn’t in the palace, Rev,” he said softly. The assurance in his tone had nothing to do with a child’s innocent faith in his father’s abilities and more in the flashes of foresight he’d inherited from his mother. “He got away.”


“We would do well to emulate him,” Ari murmured. The other three nodded their agreement.


Turning his back on the fighting, Revelin fought the urge to throw honor to the wind, to go back into the city and see how many Gurot he could kill before dawn.


A slender hand tucked into his, recalling him to his duty. Llyr blinked up at him in understanding and Revelin felt the rage recede a little. If he gave into his need for vengeance, the boy would be the one to pay the price. They had to get him off world and keep him safe.


“North Field.” He eyed the boy and lifted a brow. “You’re too small to keep up. Care for a ride?”


Llyr’s slender face split in a wide grin. “Shift, Rev! I want to see.”


Obediently, Revelin stepped back and shifted into battle mode. Shifting form for a hirrient was a matter of choice, a conscious effort that engaged the secondary set of muscles, enlarging them with blood and adrenaline to stretch their flexible skeletal structure. They didn’t change shape so much as they got bigger. And stronger. Nearly twice as strong in battle form, hirrient were a force to be reckoned with. Around him, the other hirrient followed suit.


Curling his fingers, Revelin allowed the claws to emerge from under his heavy nails and felt them lock into place. The metal scales of his armor spread to cover his chest and back, interlacing wire weaving over his spine and rising in a wire ruffle to protect his neck. He crouched, motioning to Llyr he was ready. The Crown Prince clambered up the wire extrusions as nimble at a malcocat.


“Move,” he growled.


They moved.


The city fell behind, but the smell of smoke and the glitter of laser fire lingered. Overhead, large black shapes moved to hover over the conquered city and small craft dropped from their bellies like carrion eaters onto a dying carcass. Gritting his teeth, Revelin moved down into the rolling hills that surrounded the city and the flat fields beyond.


They avoided roads as they moved, footsteps silent in the cushioning algae that covered the sandy soil. Like most of Gael, the fields were a sea bed for half the year during monsoon season, leaving a thick layer of silt that fertilized the sandy soil. The algae that covered most of the area would be harvested and processed into the highly nutritious if not particularly flavorful paste that formed the staple of most Gael cooking.


Revelin preferred meat but, like the others, he’d learned to tolerate a great deal. For Arno’s sake. Regardless of the taste of the food, at least he ate regularly now.


Shoving dark memories of the past aside, he concentrated on moving quick and silent through the dark. The others surrounded him and his precious cargo, fanning out in a loose semi-circle around them. Any Gurot soldier they encountered would never live to remember it. His death would be swift and silent. If there was one thing they had all learned in the hell that had been their childhood, it was how to kill.


The North Field plateau thrust out of the plains like a stone stump. Search lights crawled over the promontory, illuminating the roads that zagged their way to the top. The hirrient avoided them easily, choosing to climb the porous and pocked southern face.


The small military transport post of North Field lay in a sprawl of lights and signal devices. Fires burned and laser fire flickered between the outbuildings. They were too late. The Gurot were already here, but there was no other source of off world transportation close enough to be viable. They had to go in and, somehow, they had to keep Llyr safe while they did it.


“If we can get close to the outer shield station, we can climb and go at them from above.” Liev eyed the insertion troops and a snarl curled his lips. “Filth expect legs.”


“Not claws,” Revelin agreed. He took a wider look at the perimeter. What was left of a watch tower stood alone, a smoking, denuded thumb at the corner of the outpost. The elevated walks that had once connected with others in an unbroken perimeter were a tangled knot of metal bars that limited maneuverability on the ground. “Up. If we get separated, head for the bunker.”


Llyr, still clinging to Revelin’s back, said nothing, but he could feel the boy beginning to tremble, whether from the chill air or fear, he didn’t know. He reached back to grip the little prince’s arm lightly.


“Hang on. Don’t let go no matter what happens.”


“I won’t let go, Rev,” Llyr whispered. “I promise.”


It was all the assurance he needed. Like wraiths, the hirrient moved closer to the outer barricade. The shield station that provided protection from ground troops had been of little help against the aerial assault. He’d told Arno countless times that they needed to extend the barrier shielding to include aerial approach and always he’d heard the same answer. If we throw protections like that on the place, we make it a target. Leave it as it is and any attacker will discount its importance. Tonight’s events had proved the king wrong, but Revelin took no pleasure in the fact.


They reached the first scorch lines where the laser shielding had exploded. Small scrub fires lit the night around them. Gathering himself, Revelin launched upward, his claws digging into the stone remains of the watch tower. Bracing the toes of his boots against the tower, he scaled the stub, claws digging like pitons into the crumbling rock. He made it to the top in time to see a silver flash ahead of him. Davi, his pale hair catching the light, clambered up a tangle of pipe and beams. A shadow flowed in his wake that would be Ari with his twin short blades sheathed between his shoulders. Of Kyall and Leiv there was no sign.


“Close your eyes,” he told the boy that clung to his back.


Llyr’s trust of the hirrient had never been in doubt. Assured that the boy had done as ordered, Revelin shifted some of his weight onto a bent metal beam. It remained unmoving beneath his hands. Not knowing how long the boy would be able to control his curiosity, he moved quickly across the narrow path toward the squarish building that had once housed the aerial control squadron.


The narrow path of the beam blended with the shadows, vanishing into the dark. Revelin didn’t falter. He didn’t need sight to know exactly where the beam was. He had other senses, heightened by the battle mode that currently pumped through his body. Fine hairs over his body registered the slightest change in the air and temperature. He caught the scent of death beneath them, blood, voided bowels, and burning flesh. Through the flickering light of fire and lasers, he could make out the star-shaped insignia the black clad attackers wore on their left shoulder. Not just Gurot, then, but Inali. The worst of them all.


Under them, he caught sight of Leiv, the distinctive red stripe through his hair glittering oddly in the sporadic bursts of greenish laser fire. He had his own pistols in his hands and Revelin frowned at the sight. Laser fire could be traced too easily to the source which was why they all carried blades. Quick and silent.


The beam suddenly ended in jagged shards and Revelin leaped. Llyr’s sudden gasp brushed the night as Revelin’s claws caught the edge of the building and he pulled himself onto the roof. Immediately, he went stone still, belly to the overlapping clay plates. On his back, Llyr remained clamped to him like a motionless and silent mollusk.


A good thing, too, as a small squad rushed below them, firing at a fleeing pair of soldiers. No one looked up. No one noticed the bulk of shadow that didn’t belong.


A flash of metal in the night and two of the chasing Gurot fell without a sound, blood soaking into the ground. A third vanished midstride as he crossed the darkness between two buildings.  Two of the remaining troopers turned, bewildered by their compatriot’s disappearance. They fumbled about, firing into shadows for no particular reason. Kyall was already gone, his long blade trimming the edges of yet another group of Gurot. A shout rose from another quarter, panic and voices mingling with the rippling crack of laser fire and the roar of burning buildings.


Revelin continued, his path straight and sure in spite of the mayhem erupting around him. The bunker he was aiming for lay on the far side of the field. The others would create confusion, diverting attention away from him and his precious cargo.


Buildings, broken relays, collapsed power grids, and twisted metal beams formed a wild and varied pathway. Only twice did he have to return to ground level and then only for a few yards until another way presented itself. As he neared his destination, the fighting grew fiercer, the Gael troops doing their best to hold off the overwhelming Gurot force.


A power grid, the bottom half blown to bits, leaned against another that still sparked intermittently in ragged defiance. Revelin edged onto the web-work of metal and gazed down at the door to the bunker. A valiant group of Gael soldiers had chosen to make their stand in front of the armored doors. He swore silently. Of all the places they could have picked.


A dark shadow flowed onto the grid beside him and he felt the balanced weight shift and then settle.


“Take out the Gurot?” Ari wanted to know.


Too eager, Revelin thought. The young hirrient would get himself killed if he wasn’t careful. He shook his head.


“Take Kyall and Davi.” He nodded toward an open launch area to the west. “Get the Gurot’s attention.”


“Why not just kill them now?” Ari pressed.


“We kill the Gurot, the Gael troops will want to join up with us. We don’t have that kind of time.”


Ari shot him a withering look. “You just don’t know how to make friends.”


His growl rumbled low, reinforcing the command.


A quick grin flashed white in the night and then the youngest hirrient was gone. Revelin shook his head. Ari bore close watching. Lately, his behavior had gone from impulsive to wild. The lust eyes ladies of court had taken notice of him and he led them a merry chase. No man with any self-respect would be trapped in a cage of used flesh and carnal appetites, but the youngling seemed bent on teasing himself into just such a snare. The young hirrient would get himself killed if he wasn’t careful. A knife in the dark or an irate husband. Neither was an honorable death for a hirrient warrior. He shook his head.


A touch on the back of his neck startled him and he realized it was only Llyr. The touch came again, soft and slow. Soothing. The boy was trying to reassure him. He patted one fragile leg and let the first soft warning growls creep out. Immediately, the boy clamped on tight, ready for whatever came.


Screams broke out from the direction of the launch area. Laser fire streaked the air and the Gurot by the bunker began to fall. Confusion erupted. The Gael soldiers fought with renewed hope as the attackers thinned, some falling where they stood, others turning to face this new threat and leaving themselves exposed to the soldiers behind. It only took a few moments before the cordon broke and the defenders pushed them away from the bunker. It wouldn’t last but, for now, it got them out of the way.


Without waiting for the others, Revelin began the descent. A bar snapped under his weight and he jolted for another grip. He paused for a moment double check that all the Gurot were gone and to wonder briefly what sort of clinging creature Llyr might be related to. The boy’s grip had tightened to a pinch. He rolled his shoulders against the restriction and Llyr obediently, though with obvious reluctance, eased his grip. Power flared in a weak surge in the rungs below him, flickering faintly. Weak but still strong enough to kill. He watched the intermittent sparks. They danced a moment and then vanished and Revelin took his chance.


Moving now in huge lunges, he powered his way down the tilted mesh of metal, leaping over the shattered base that threatened to shred them. Firm ground met his feet and he felt Llyr heave a sigh of relief. A quick slide of the silver bracelet on his wrist opened the armored doors and they were inside.


Leiv appeared from the shadows, holstering his pistols. “I’ll take Llyr and get the ship warmed up. You fetch the younglings.”


Revelin snorted at that. Llyr was already clambering down and it made sense to get the boy out of harm’s way, but a knowing glimmer of laughter gleamed in Leiv’s eyes. The three youngest wouldn’t leave the battle easily and they both knew it.


A dark shadow crawled over the transport post and Revelin felt a chill settle in his bones. Across the way, he saw Ari and Kyall break into a run, Davi on their heels, his pale hair reflecting back the sporadic light of laser fire. A smaller craft broke free of the ship overhead, settling slowly toward the burning city. The insignia on the side sent cold through his veins and he watched the ship, his hatred a bitter knot that honor did nothing to ease.


“Gorman,” Davi gasped as he bolted past. “He brought reinforcements!”


The memories of another world, burning under the weight of the Gurot, threatened to swamp him and he forced himself to turn away. Revenge would have to wait for another day but it would be served if it took his dying breath to do it.