The Starfall Knight
Read The Starfall Knight Online
Authors: Ken Lim
Tags: #Fantasy - Epic, #Fantasy - General, #Fantasy Fiction, #Fantasy - Series, #Fantasy, #Fantasy & Magic, #Fantasy - Contemporary, #Adventure
The Starfall Knight
by Ken Lim
Copyright 2013 Ken Lim
Cover design by Ken Lim
More books by Ken Lim
Novels
The Fae Liaison Initiative (short story series)
Exigent
(Episode 1)
Luminous
(Episode 2)
Shrapnel
(Episode 3)
Thaumaturge
(Episode 4)
Beginnings
(containing Episodes 1 to 4)
Tribal
(Episode 5)
Visit Ken at Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/kenlim
and Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Lim/e/B007D5OKTC
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Chapter One
Devan’s pouch of powdered chalk slipped from his harness and fell into the abyss.
“Tyn’s balls!” The pouch dwindled from view, vanishing into clouds far below, chalk flying out in a lazy spiral. Devan snapped his gaze back to the waist-thick rope that he clung to and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to let his fear of heights take control.
“Tyn’s balls?” Terson, one of the veteran rangers, called out. “Are you sure you didn’t just lose your own?”
Devan gritted his teeth and shut out the jeering from his squad. His body slid across the rope, armour scraping with a loud rasp. Gods, the sky was truly endless.
“Devan!” Benton, his brother, knelt beside the anchor points on the Saruwan end of the rope. “Are you all right?”
The safety lines tightened around Devan and his attention snapped back to his climb.
“I’m fine.” Devan grappled the main rope, readjusting his balance. His harness still had the cable that he was meant to bring across and his safety lines slackened. The squadmates at the other end relaxed but kept a loose hold on the lines.
Under his breath, Devan muttered, “I’m fine.”
He continued crawling up the rope.
Aerock Saruwa was a recent addition to the cluster of isles that Centara towed along. Three sets of anchored cords and cables were usually enough to keep each of the surrounding aerocks bound to the much larger Centara. Devan hauled himself across the main cord which was as thick as his torso and constructed of plant fibres with twists of steel cable for additional strength. As a ranger, it was part of Devan’s duties to ensure the maintenance and integrity of the ropes, as well as the andonite cable that ran between Centara and the aerocks.
He reached the array of metal hooks that were embedded into the earth of Saruwa. Benton steadied Devan as he hauled himself over the edge and planted his feet onto the ground. Terson and a couple others clapped sarcastically. Benton shot them a glare and they returned to their maintenance tasks under the supervision of Sergeant Lora.
“All right?” Benton asked.
“I always say never again.” Devan unhooked the cable from his harness and handed it to Olban, another squadmate. “But then, I draw the short straw.”
Benton patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”
“What about the repairs to the aercarriage?”
“The others can handle it.”
Devan cast a quick glance at the aercarriage station which stood a short distance away from the anchor-points. He had carried the new cable for the aercarriages, which regular people used instead of traversing the gaps by crawling along the ropes. Even though every Centaran had had some ranger training in their youth, not all were suited to the tasks that Devan and Benton performed every day.
“Rika,” Benton called out. “Inform Sergeant Lora that Devan and I will go on ahead. Catch up once the cable is fixed.”
“Yes, Captain,” Rika said with a bob of her head.
Devan shot a mock salute at his brother as he strode past.
“Very funny.”
Devan fell into step beside Benton as they continued the hike into the Saruwan countryside.
Like Centara, Saruwa was a temperate aerock – full of grasslands, forests and a hilly range around much of the edge. There were a handful of streams but no deep lakes as on Centara. From studies conducted by the Centaran university, Saruwa was one of the smaller aerocks, perhaps half a league in diameter and its depth of earth and rock stretching barely a couple of field-lengths down. In comparison, Centara could hold aerocks like Saruwa many times over.
Devan’s pack weighed on his shoulders as the terrain undulated. Like his brother, he bore only basic provisions as well as a hunting knife, a short-bow and arrows. Andonite rifles were reserved for special assignments and then, usually issued only to the military. Rivulets of sweat trickled underneath Devan’s leather armour – the crawl across the rope hadn’t been easy.
“Don’t let Terson and his little gang worry you,” Benton said.
“I don’t,” Devan replied. “I’m used to it.”
Benton dipped his chin.
“How much further?” Devan asked.
Benton studied a small map with abstract ink markings. “We should be able to see it from the top of the next hill.” He marched on, tireless as always.
Although seven years separated them, Devan had never felt out of place as the younger brother. Out in the field or in the practice yard, however, he understood how others looked at Benton, a captain and leader. Devan tried not to think of how others viewed him, the younger brother.
At the next crest, Devan caught sight of the smoldering crater that marred an otherwise picturesque meadow. Devan grunted to himself – if he were not mistaken, it was Tinuker’s Field, a popular area for the Saruwan children. Devan had often met Rika and Tayu at Tinuker’s when they were all teenagers. Devan dared not wonder what might’ve happened had the meteorite smashed into Saruwa during the day.
Benton trotted towards the meadow and Devan followed, his pack jostling with every step. He tightened the straps with an annoyed tug and continued after his brother.
As Devan approached, he saw that the grass around the crater had withered to ash. The impact was deceptively small, perhaps the size of a small cart. Smoke billowed upward.
“Wait.” Benton sniffed the air.
“You don’t think...”
“Best to be safe,” Benton replied.
Although the largest andonite deposits were deep within aerocks, well surrounded by bedrock, miners occasionally encountered smaller deposits close to the surface. Andonite, while remaining in mineralised form, was relatively safe but it was not unknown for raw andon to escape into the air, especially within Centara’s andonite transfer pipes that ran within the mines.
Devan took in a couple deep breaths, satisfied that the distinctive sharp odour of gaseous andonite was non-existent. He followed Benton and approached the crater.
A pile of twisted metal had gouged out the dirt and left streaks of crystallised earth along the sides of the hole. Devan stepped past the ashen blades of grass. His boots crunched into the dirt.
“Careful,” Benton said. “It could still be hot.”
Devan nodded. The pile of metal did not seem such a jumble upon closer inspection. Strange, he thought. If he were not mistaken, the straps and hooks made some of the metal appear like armour. He nudged one of the longer pieces with a boot.
Devan took a step back in shock. “It’s a person. A knight.”
A pair of longwings glided overhead as the rest of the ranger squad joined Devan and Benton. Devan shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun – perhaps the appearance of the birds was a good omen. Longwings, named after their incredible wing-spans, usually nested in the mountainous regions of an aerock and were capable of flight between the aerocks. Devan often wondered what they had seen in their travels.
Benton waved down the squad. “We’ll need a stretcher. There should be timber in the copse to the south.”
As the other rangers headed to the tree-line, Devan crouched next to the armoured body where they had dragged it out onto the grass. “Where do you think he came from?”
“Another aerock, I suppose,” Benton replied.
Aerocks drifted through the endless sky under their own volition, always at the mercy of the weather and the wind. Some were higher, some were lower. Barring the attachment of the cables and ropes that Centara employed with its allies in Saruwa, Elade, Masteney and Verovel – Devan and Benton’s home aerock – their speed and direction could not be controlled.
“It couldn’t have been far,” Benton continued. “The armour is relatively intact. Remember when we used to pitch junk off Verovel?”
“And then we hit Centara?”
“Yes. Well, the scraps of timber and metal deformed a lot more than this armour.”
“I suppose so.” Devan let his questions go. He still wondered about the heat of the crater that had burned the ground and turned some of the dirt into glass. And not to mention the depth of the hole. He surreptitiously glanced at the sky above but as with the sky below, there was nothing but a blue haze and few clouds.
The rangers fashioned a rough stretcher for the armoured corpse and took turns dragging it back to the central anchor-point where the aercarriage had resumed normal operation. A couple of the local Saruwans emerged from the station – with the system of gears and pulleys at either end of the cable, two adults could comfortably move a single aercarriage across a gap.
Devan, Rika and Benton loaded the body into the aercarriage, which was actually nothing more than a small wagon with a canvas top.
Rika leaned over the body. “It looks so old,” she said as the aercarriage lurched from the station. “Have you searched it for clues?”
“Clues?” Benton said. “He fell from another aerock.”
Rika reached for the dead man’s helm, a battered piece of metal that had long since lost its shine. Now that Rika had mentioned it, Devan thought that the design was rather old-fashioned, much like knights in tales.
The young woman flipped up the visor of the helm. A grey, mummified visage stared back.
“Ugh.” Rika looked away and moved to close the visor.
“Wait.” Devan examined the face, lined and aged but calm. At peace. “He was already dead before he was pitched off the side of whichever aerock he came from.”
“So, he was buried with dishonour,” Benton said.
“I guess so.” Devan closed the visor. The aercarriage launched over the edge of Saruwa. Only the wooden slats underneath their feet separated them from the endless sky below.
Devan pressed at an unlikely bulge in the knight’s pauldron and the armour clicked open. He glanced at Benton, who shrugged. Devan reached into the cavity and his hands brushed against a soft surface, a regular texture. A book.
