Sea of Stars (Sea of Stars #1) Read online

  Sea of Stars

  By Ivy Smoak

  Copyright 2019 Ivy Smoak

  All Rights Reserved

  Contents

  Title

  Map West

  Map East

  Part I - Mahlia

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Part II - Breghton

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Be Careful What You Joust For - Prologue

  Be Careful What You Joust For - Chapter 1

  A Note From Ivy

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  Also by Ivy Smoak

  Copyright

  Part I - Mahlia

  Chapter 1

  I dropped to my knees, pulled the layers of worn leather from my shoulders, and stared at my reflection in the still water. The strange, shimmering scars had now appeared down the length of my left ribcage. For days I had tried to ignore the markings that had spread over my back. I had almost convinced myself that they were just the thin, raised wounds that the whip always left on my skin. There was no denying it now, though. These markings were different. As I drew closer to the water, I began to notice that they looked almost like symbols. I pulled my hand toward the closest scar and felt heat radiating off of it. Slowly, I brushed the burning wound with my fingertips. I bit my lip, trying not to scream, and plunged my seared fingers into the cool lake.

  My body tensed, sensing the forge crow's presence before it made a sound. I draped the leather back over my shoulders and dipped the buckets into the crystal clear water. The coarse rope of the handles dug into my burnt fingers as I ran. My eyes were set on the black, iron gate when the crow’s caw pierced the air. The bright colors of the autumn trees created a startling contrast against the sleek black mountains that loomed ahead. My long, red hair danced in the breeze, trying to sense where the sound was coming from. Leaves crunched on the dirt path as I picked up my pace. I wasn’t going to be late this time.

  The quickness of the second caw startled me. My hands shook and water splashed onto my leg. I ran through the entrance trying not to look up at the iron-coated skulls mounted on the spikes that decorated the top of the gate. They were a warning to us all to never try to escape the prison camp. After placing the buckets by the piles of food in the entranceway, I knelt down in the dirt with the other divinares as the third caw echoed around me.

  "Cutting it close today," Jeremody whispered. He had a weary smile on his face. Jeremody had lived at the Iron Gates almost as long as I had. He was the closest thing I had left to a family.

  "Find me after," I whispered back to him. It wasn't necessary for me to ask him to meet up with me. After the feast it would almost be nightfall, and we'd be ushered into our hut. I was anxious to tell him about what had happened at the lake, though. He would know what to do.

  "Mahlia, is everything alright?" He must have realized how eager I was to speak to him. He reached over and moved a strand of hair out of my face.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I responded, distractedly. "Just find me, okay?"

  "Always." His smile was bright now, and there was a twinkle in his eye.

  I stayed quiet, not wanting to draw attention to us. Mortwar and his wife, Quinwar, were seated around a large wooden table to the right of the stage, surrounded by their thirteen minions. Their slimy, gray skin oozed with stinky sweat. They were all at least five times our height and about as wide as we were tall. A huge shadow passed over me as the large forge crow flew to his master. I waited for Mortwar to begin his feast, but the buckets piled high just sat there by the entranceway. I dared a quick glance at Jeremody. His eyes were closed and he was mumbling quietly to himself, probably praying. I had stopped praying years ago.

  Deep laughter cut through the silence. The vile sound picked up all around us. My hair tugged uncomfortably, wanting to hide from the noise, but I didn’t dare move to cover my head. The floorboards creaked as Mortwar stood up and I locked my eyes on the ground in front of me. I heard heavy footsteps approaching and I hoped that Mortwar was heading toward the offering.

  Their laughter stopped abruptly. Something splashed on my head and my eyes flew open, greeted by gnarly, yellow toenails the size of my hands. I looked up at Mortwar as he wiped his mouth with the back of one of his forearms. The stench of saliva filled my nose as I realized he had just spit on me. In his other hand was one of the buckets I had brought from the lake. His fingers laced around the side as if it was a cup, because to a monster his size that's what it was. I put my arms out in front of me and bowed low, my heart beating fast.

  Ignoring my gesture, Mortwar picked me up by the back of my robes with one gray hand and carried me to the stage. I didn’t bother fighting, not anymore. My body hung limp, defeated. I stared down at the ground. The first time this had happened to me, I had left a trail of tears, crying and protesting that it wasn’t fair. But I had learned. I was stubborn when I came here, but ten harsh winters were enough to freeze the fight right out of anyone. I was a shadow of the person I once was. The vulgar ritual wasn’t meant to be fair. It was meant to be entertainment during their feast.

  He tossed me onto the stage and my knees raked across the wood, splinters cutting deep into my skin. I grimaced and tried not to look at the bloody bar to the left of the stage that my body would be hanging from momentarily.

  “Look at the water on her leg,” Mortwar’s voice boomed. “She tried to steal from me. Me!”

  Boos erupted in the crowd. Mortwar slammed the bucket so hard onto the stage that it almost completely disintegrated. He had no control over his temper; none of them did. He silenced his men with a wave of his hand.

  “Tonight we have dinner and a show!”

  Their loud cheers seemed to shake the stage. One of his minions picked me up and another placed my wrists into the metal shackles that hung from the horizontal bar. I looked out at the crowd and saw Jeremody. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He always tried to protect me, but I seemed to be a favorite target for Mortwar's wrath. Everyone around Jeremody, though, looked relieved that they had not been chosen. We were all becoming just like our captors. My head dropped down and I saw the always expanding blood stains beneath my dangling feet. Once again I closed my eyes and waited for the whip to cut open my barely healed skin.

  Everyone on the stage clapped and cheered as the whip cracked on my back. My body swished forward and the metal around my wrists dug in deep, but I hardly felt the pain of the fresh lacerations. All I could feel were my fingertips burning as I slipped into unconsciousness.

  ***

  I was snuggled up next to my mother with my head upon her lap. The fire burned bright and my father was humming, poking at the logs.

  “There,” my mom said as she finished braiding my hair. “Now the sounds of the woods won’t bother you so much and you can get some rest. Clear your mind little one, and keep your dreams as dreams."

  "I know, Mama," I said, a little defensively. Sometimes my dreams would transform into vivid nightmares and I'd awaken my parents with my screams. It hadn't happened for weeks though, so I wasn't sure why she was reminding me now.

  My father looked up from the fire and gave my mother an encouraging smile. He insisted on never staying in one place too
long, but tonight he looked especially tired in the flame’s light. I wished we didn't always have to be on the move. He dropped his stick into the flames and the small fire sparked.

  "Listen to your mother, Mahlia." He sat down beside us and wrapped his arm behind my mother's back. "My girls," he sighed. "The three of us have made quite the team."

  I looked up at my parents and smiled.

  "We both love you very much, Mahlia. Don't ever forget that. Now try to get some sleep. We have to leave here in just a few hours.” My mother sighed and kissed my forehead.

  "Goodnight," I replied. I closed my eyes, so exhausted from our day’s journey that I could barely make out the crackle of the fire. Everything around me seemed hushed, but I still heard their quiet voices saying goodnight back to me. My father’s faint humming soon put me right to sleep.

  I woke up coughing, the smell of burning leaves filling my nose. I sat up with a start. The campfire had spread, but I was far away, tucked inside some bushes.

  “Papa?” I whispered. I couldn’t see anything as the smoke rose up into the air, but I heard a muffled voice, so I unbraided my hair and let it drape around me.

  “She didn’t have any, Mortwar,” a large gray creature said to an even bigger gray creature, as they both walked out in front of the smoke.

  I recognized that name. I had seen these ugly beasts before. “Brutarians” my father had called them. Back in the spring, my parents had known they were tracking us, so we had climbed to the top of the tallest tree we could find to wait for them to give up their chase. They were violent, vile creatures, and my parents had warned me to hide from them, so I sat still and stared at them from behind the leaves. I scrunched down as low as I could as they came into clearer view. The two brutarians both had gray, greasy skin. They were both so tall that their heads almost hit the branches in the trees, whereas I wasn't even as tall as the bush in which I hid. Most creatures were larger than me, though, so that wasn’t too startling. What amazed me the most was that the creatures had no hair on the tops of their heads. How do they hear a thing? I wondered to myself as I stared from behind the branches.

  “What about the male?” the man called Mortwar asked.

  “I’m sorry, master. Not a single marking on either of them.”

  Mortwar pounded a nearby tree with his fist and leaves fluttered all around him. He grabbed something small and tossed it into the flames. I held my breath, squinting to see what was happening through the falling leaves. It almost looked like a body burning in the fire.

  “A waste of time,” Mortwar mumbled. With all the leaves now settled on the ground, I saw him reach behind him and pick up my mother.

  “Mama!” I shrieked, as he tossed her body into the fire. I ran out from behind my hiding spot, my fists clenched. My parents' lifeless bodies were withering away in the flames. Tears blinded me as I stumbled forward. I looked up and saw Mortwar staring at me. Unlike the other brutarian, his eyes were a piercing, wicked green. Thick furs draped across his shoulders, clasped together with some ornament that matched his eyes. Pieces of dyed green leather crisscrossed across his chest, strapping two large throwing axes in place on his back. A tattoo of an anvil was imprinted on his muscular stomach.

  He turned away from me. “Kill her,” Mortwar said to the other man. “She’ll take after her parents, so we have no need for her.”

  I turned to run but something caught my eye. The fire. The fire had turned blue! I wanted to run, but all I could do was stare as all the orange flames changed before my eyes. I had never seen anything so mesmerizing.

  “You idiot!” Mortwar screamed as he stared at the blue flames. He grabbed the man and smashed his head into the same tree he had punched earlier. The tree broke in half and fell into the fire. It was instantly set ablaze in blue flames. Mortwar shoved the unconscious man into the flames and then the fire slowly returned to its normal hue. The air was filled with the horrid smell of burnt flesh.

  I turned around searching for a hiding place, but before I even took two steps Mortwar had picked me up with one of his meaty hands.

  I screamed, kicked his arm, and bit at his slimy fingers. But his grasp was firm, and he didn’t even flinch.

  He held me up to his eye level and asked: “What is your name?” as he started to open up a basket with his other hand.

  I glared at him and spit into one of his ugly green eyes.

  ***

  Someone must have unchained my hands from the bar because I fell through the air and landed with a thud on the stage. The boards creaked below me. I moaned, feeling the pressure of the wooden beams against the new cuts on my back. A hand covered my mouth to stifle the sound.

  “Shush, you’ll wake Mortwar,” a familiar voice croaked.

  It was old Swishel. Her duty was to bandage the divinares after they were punished for wrongdoings. As the healer, she was the only one of us who never got whipped. I nodded my head and she removed her hand. I took a deep breath, ignoring the pain, and tried to stand up. My knees instantly buckled below me.

  “Look at me, young one,” Swishel said as she grabbed my chin with her weathered hand and turned my head to face her. Her brown eyes were wild and filled with a strange intensity. “There isn’t much time. You must get up. I beg of you.”

  I once again hoisted myself up off the ground. This time I took a step, but the stars in the night's sky began to whirl and I collapsed. Swishel grabbed me by my ankles and slowly started to pull my body toward her hut.

  I awoke to the sound of bottles rattling. I blinked a few times, waiting for the room to come into focus. Swishel was hobbling around her hut throwing things inside a knapsack. She looked so thin in her baggy, worn leather robes. Her long white hair gave away her age, as did the wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth. I wasn't exactly sure how old she was, but divinares lived a long time. If I was to guess, I'd say she was in her early hundreds. I had asked Swishel her age once, but she said she had forgotten to keep track. She had a slight hunch in her back, which made her move awkwardly as she wandered around the room.

  Swishel’s hut was one of my favorite places in the prison. I was always allowed to sleep here and recuperate for as long as I wanted after being whipped, unless another divinare got lashed and needed the bed more than me. Mortwar never came anywhere near the healer's hut. I secretly thought it was because he was scared of crazy, old Swishel. But the best part was getting to hear Swishel’s stories of living outside the Iron Gates. I would fantasize about her old village and try to imagine what it would be like to live outside these walls again.

  “It’s time, it’s time,” Swishel mumbled to herself. I had never seen her with so much energy before. I couldn’t tell if she was excited or terrified. She was looking through her collection of books and strange bottles, clearly intent on finding something in particular.

  I glanced through the tattered curtains and saw the moon still shining outside. I yawned and Swishel’s head snapped toward me. The wild intensity remained in her eyes, sending a chill down my spine. I sat up slowly as she came over to me. My hand crept up my back and touched the blood-drenched bandages. I looked up just in time to catch the knapsack that Swishel dropped onto my lap. One bottle teetered out of the top and fell onto the ground with a crash. A cloud of white powder puffed up from the broken bottle, but Swishel didn’t seem to care about the contents. She just kept moving around nervously.

  “You have to go.” Swishel looked shaken, like she’d seen a ghost. “It’s time, it’s time,” she repeated under her breath, as she pulled her cloak tightly around her.

  “Can I at least spend the night?”

  Swishel just stared at me, her eyes wide.

  “Are you okay, Swishel? Maybe you should lie down,” I said. Swishel had always been a bit odd, but her behavior tonight was more bizarre than ever.

  She grasped my arm fiercely and pulled me toward the window. “You don’t understand, this is your last chance.” She pulled the curtains closed and ripp
ed at my robes. The room was bathed in darkness.

  I grabbed at my clothes, but then froze. The left side of the room was suddenly full of pale blue light. I turned and saw the light symbols dance along the dirt walls, dousing all the books with a strange glow. The markings that seemed to shimmer in the lake were now ablaze.

  “It will only get worse from here,” she said to herself as she pulled out some clothes from a drawer and handed them to me. “We must hurry.”

  “Wait, what do you mean worse?” I stammered. “What’s happening to me? Why am I glowing?!”

  A smile spread across Swishel’s face. “Mahlia, nothing is wrong with you. You are blessed with the gift of the Moira.”

  I blinked and stared at her. “The gift of the what?” I asked, my eyebrows knit.

  “The gift of the Moira, child. Many years ago, all divinares were blessed with this power. But no one has been born with it in many years.” She smiled kindly at me, the harsh look in her eyes momentarily gone. “Your mother should have told you the secrets of our people. She would have done anything to protect you. You look just like her, you know. I’m sorry, young one, but I do not have time to explain. Mortwar will want to see you in the morning now that your symbols are starting to show. He’s been waiting a long time for this.” She pushed the knapsack back into my hands. “Everything you need is in here. Everything you want to know is in here,” she added after seeing my expression. “Now follow me.”

  I pulled on the leather pants she had handed me and tied them at the top. They were just like the ones I used to wear before I came to the Iron Gates, except these had loose seams in the front that created a small strip that my skin showed through. It was nice to be out of the tattered leather robes that all the prisoners wore. They were meant to keep us warm during the harsh winter months, but they were worn thin and never kept me from shivering. Grabbing my tattered leather boots from the ground, I shoved my feet into them. I put the white shirt on and tied two strings, causing it to cinch over my breasts with a ruffled effect. My mother had worn similar shirts. Ignoring everything else Swishel had just said, I asked: “You knew my mother?”