Storymania - Black Star by Matthew James Parsons

Black Star (2)
Matthew James Parsons

“Aye,” Gol-Rok said. “All thieves are descended from an ancient order of guards in Fica, the large continent south of Swarbon. This order was trained in stealth and trickery, and was known throughout all lands for their compassion for those under tyranny. When the king died, the order was destroyed, but its members lived on. They used their skills to return to the people what was rightfully theirs. The ways were passed on to others, and rules were established. Eventually, these rules were compiled into the book in your hands.
“For centuries, thieves were respected by the people as bringers of justice. But light is often accompanied by darkness. Some thieves became corrupt and greedy. The turned on the people they once saved, and were driven from society. Even the good thieves were forced into hiding. Your father, as I knew, was the last thief to follow the Thieves Codex. He had grown rich by stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, and taking a small cut for himself. Now, he is dead like your mother, stars above rest their souls.”
“What else can you tell me about my parents?” Black Star asked. “What can you tell me?”
“Well,” Gol-Rok said as he drummed his fingers a little more. “You are the spitting image of your father. Phrinaes, he was an honorable man. He was friendly and kind. He would treat all as equal. Your mother was brave and creative. She would take in strangers, give them food, drink, and supplies, and let them go on their way. She was an angel upon Thraegar.”
Black Star put the book down and took the knife pommel. He felt the magyck flowing through the metal, the warmth of the ruby and the cool of the lapis-lazuli. He closed his eyes and focused, and the fire and ice jumped out of the blade to form the knife that hadn’t been seen for nearly sixteen years.
“Who killed them?” Black Star said with anger and determination in his voice. “Tell me, so I may repay the favor.”
Gol-Rok only beckoned to the empty purse cut from a lord’s belt on the table. Black Star stood up and walked down the stairs. Gol-Rok didn’t follow Black Star or ask Black Star what he was doing. Gol-Rok knew what was going to happen. Black Star was going to kill a king.

Four years had passed. Swarbon was now under the tyrannical rule of King Soulissen, after the death of Lord Paeden by lightning strike, dark lightning summoned by Soulissen himself. Black Star, his quarry taken from him, fled as the newly formed Crimson Behemoths ravaged the countryside, killing all those who would not bow down to Soulissen. Soulissen, in possession of the Dark Crystals, taken from the armor of Paladin Souls and saturated in darkness, gave him powers beyond that of mortal man. The weapon that had first been used twenty years ago was now common in Swarbon, and shots could be heard constantly. The Tower’s observatory was destroyed and construction resumed, and the Tower rose high above the clouds, almost close enough to touch the stars.
With the new weapon, the bonestick, the odd name coming from the main ingredient of the powder that made the weapon work, bonestone, Soulissen began his invasion of Ilyote and Caolen. Templars, Dragoons, and even Paladins fell before his might, and entire towns burned. The Crimson Behemoths slaughtered man, woman, and children alike, leaving the world scarred red wherever they passed. These men were more violent than boars and as bloodthirsty as wolves. Their enchanted platinum armor repulsed all but the strongest of blows. Soulissen urged his troops on, knowing that at this rate, the entire world would bow down to him in a few years.
Gol-Rok patiently awaited Black Star’s return. Since he was a golem, he could and would wait until the very end of time itself. His features had worn away, and one arm was missing. His ability to speak clearly had left him some time ago. His sight was now failing, but he waited still. Time kept passing, and soon his hearing began to degrade. Gol-Rok wondered for the first time in his life if he would ever see his master again. The sun set and the moon rose over the giant tree.
There was the sound of a door opening, and Gol-Rok stood up. A hooded stranger in dark cloths entered. In his hand, he bore an obsidian knife, hilt set with two gems, a red one and a light blue one. The stranger drew his hood back. Gol-Rok hobbled forward, holding out his remaining arm.
“Bla *crackle**snap* ck Star,” Gol-Rok managed to sputter out. “Wel *cracklecrackle* come home. Oh, how I ha *crackle* ve missed you.”
Gol-Rok took another step forward before the collapsed. His body twitched and crackled and snapped, and then it stood still. Gol-Rok had fulfilled his task. He could finally rest in peace until the very end of time itself. Black Star took Gol-Rok’s lifeless hand and patted it. A tear fell from his eye.
“I missed you too, friend.” Black Star said, almost sobbing. “And I’m going to make everything all right. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

Soulissen sat on his throne, his rod now set with the Dark Crystals and his own, including the Citrine, a red-green gem that could summon lightning, and apparently the only one of its kind. A Crimson Behemoth soldier entered the throne room, the torchlight reflecting off of his blood red helm. The soldier dropped down to one knee and bowed his head.
“M’lord! News from the front!” the soldier said.
“What? Be it news of a great victory?” Soulissen asked eagerly. “Tell me, tell me!”
“M’lord, word has it that a ghost has been terrorizing the ranks!” the soldier cried out. “Don’t kill me! Please! I only report the news, I have a wife and two children! Please!”
“Quiet!” Soulissen screamed at the bawling guard. “How can news of a ghost be significant? Answer me, or you will burn!”
“It has, erm, how do I put this, physical substance to it. It can use its ghostly sword to pierce armor and cleave off heads. Alas, our weapons do no harm, not even the bonesticks.” The soldier attempted to explain. “The description says it glows with a faint gold aura, with what appears to be gemstones set in its sword and armor. Apparently a young boy, ice blue eyes, and muscular. That is all M’lord.” The soldier said before leaving the throne room.
Soulissen looked at all the gems in his rod, and how the light sparkled in them.
“So, Larmandi intends on making a last stand, does he?” Soulissen murmured to himself. “He will pay dearly, even if he is already dead.”
Soulissen stood up and walked out of the throne room. He ascended the stairs high up to the fiftieth floor, the smell of incense and smoke in the air. The floor was one large room, and it was darkened to the point of being hazardous. An arcane chant rang out in the room, and Soulissen whispered into the Dark Ruby, and a spurt of green flame came out, illuminating the chamber.
A strange old man, clad in black and red robes with golden embroidering stood above a small altar. He lifted his right hand, which apparently had some kind of root in it, and slammed it down on the altar. He raised his left hand, which held a still breathing blue jay, which he smashed down onto the altar, with a sickening crack. A puff of blue smoke rose, and the old man began chanting even louder. He suddenly stopped and produced a vial from his robes. He uncorked the vial and poured a red liquid over the altar. There was a puff of silver, and the old man turned around, holding a gleaming platinum helmet in his hands.
“Hello, King Soulissen,” the old man hissed. “Here is another enchanted helm for you. Whose head will it grace?”
“Archemagus! I have come to ask-“ Soulissen managed to say before Archemagus cut him off.
“A ghost with physical substance, yes?” the old man whispered, smiling maniacally. “Yes, I have just the thing for that. You will need a ghost, to kill a ghost! I in particular would suggest a shade, they are quite vicious and very strong, not to mention they are entirely physical in their being, like a zombie.”
“How would I go about finding a shade?” Soulissen asked.
“By finding one with a soul of pure darkness.” The old man cackled. “Do you want to know where you can find a person like that?”
Soulissen nodded eagerly. Archemagus only smiled and pulled a crude iron knife from his robes. He drew near to Soulissen, who was awaiting a response. Archemagus got even closer, and then he stabbed Soulissen right through the heart. Soulissen gave out a gasp, but nothing more. Archemagus’ smile grew broader as he pulled out the knife and stabbed Soulissen again in the stomach. Soulissen doubled over and fell to the floor. Archemagus sheathed his knife and bent over to his dead lord.
“My king, it is done. You now have a shade.” Archemagus whispered before he vanished in a puff of blood red smoke, cackling and whooping in sheer delight.
Soulissen’s body began to twitch, and then he rose up to his knees. He saw, but he felt nothing in his eye sockets. He reached up to touch his head, and noticed that part of the skin was missing. He looked into the platinum helm, and saw his reflection. His tan skin had become snow white, and his royal blue-green robes had disappeared, only to be replaced by simple purple robes.
Guards, drawn by the commotion, dashed into the room and suddenly came to a halt. Soulissen finally got up on his feet and turned to face the guards. Their faces were painted with fear as they looked Soulissen in his eyes, or eye sockets in the current case. Soulissen only smiled to reveal old, rotting teeth.
“What are you looking at?” Soulissen said. “Tonight, we kill a hero, and the reign of Soulissen the Immortal shall begin!”

Black Star stood in front of the Tomb of Larmandi, his feet apart and his hood back, cape fluttering in the breeze. He took a step forward, and an image of his father and mother dying flashed into his head. He took another step, and a picture of a village burning and people being shot down appeared. He took another step, and he saw Gol-Rok’s dead, weathered body. Black Star shook his head and began to enter the tomb. The next step he took, a ghost appeared in front of him.
Black Star reached for his knife, which currently had no blade, but the ghost shook its own head. The armor-clad ghost, as young as it seemed, had an air of wisdom and courage about it, with a faint gold aura and ice-blue eyes. The ghost beckoned, and Black Star followed.
Black Star walked behind the ghost, following the spirit step for step. The skeletons of soldiers now long dead and still wearing their outdated armor littered the corridors. The ghost passed right through a wall, and to Black Star’s great surprise, he went through as well. It was a dimly lit chamber, and a dead figure was on the floor, wearing ancient, tarnished gold armor, set with all the gems that had ever been known, minus the Citrine.
The ghost walked up to the corpse and stood on it. He smiled and drew his sword in salute. The room became brighter, and a sudden flash blinded Black Star. Black Star shielded his eyes from the white light. The light subsided, and Black Star lowered his hand. The lone figure on the floor now wore bright shining armor. His sword lay across his chest, grasped in dead hands. Black Star went up to the figure and saw the inscription on the sword: Hope. The sword of Larmandi, Hero among heroes.
“History will say you stole these stones, but I will say I gave them to you.” A voice rang out. Larmandi’s spirit, like Gol-Rok’s had finally completed its purpose and was finally allowed into the bliss it deserved.
Black Star went up to the dead body of Larmandi, and ran his fingers across all of the gems. The gems came out as if they had been on a table and were swept off by a maid, and Black Star placed them in a pouch made from quetcotl skin. Black Star looked at the gems, each one glowing with its own light. He looked up and gave thanks to Larmandi before he left the camber and made his way out of the tomb. Black Star managed to get out to see daylight, but he also saw the Tower, and a mass of swirling black clouds above it. He looked back to the tomb and began to run in the direction of the Tower.

Soulissen stood at the top of the Tower, manipulating the storm with his hands. He laughed maniacally as a guard came out onto the landing.
“M’lord! A young man has been reported to be trying to climb the tower. He has managed to evade all of the guards. What should we do?”
“We will wait,” Soulissen hissed. “I have sensed that Larmandi has passed to the Abyss, but he has instilled his power in someone else. Only this other person would be foolish enough to come to me. Let him come! Let him come with all speed!”

Black Star had spent nearly the first half of his climb avoiding all of the guards on every floor, and when he couldn’t avoid them, he outran them. But now, all the guards stood erect, allowing Black Star through and giving him bread and water. As he passed the guards, he didn’t see hate or malice, but fear, and for some reason, hope. Black Star continued his run up the Tower to confront Soulissen.
Black Star, after a good two hours of sprinting, had finally reached the top of the Tower. Soulissen stood, looking over the edge, his purple robes fluttering in the wind. He turned around smiling, staring down Black Star with his eye sockets.
“So, you are the one?” Soulissen cackled above the roar of the wind. “I have been waiting for your arrival, so I can squish you like the worm you are!”
“I… I am Black Star!” cried Black Star. “Son of Phrinaes and Rozelien! And I will avenge their deaths and the deaths of all those whom your men have slaughtered! I will bring an end to your rule!”
“Phrinaes and Rozelien? Oh yes, I remember. Officially, the order came from Paeden, but it was truly me.” Soulissen snickered. “They were so brave and noble, and the people loved them. They had to be killed so the people would not rebel when I finally came to power. And you, Black Star, will join them in their graves!”
Soulissen lashed out with his rod, and let out a cry. The Dark Amethyst glowed and emitted a barrier around Soulissen. Covered in his dark aura. Soulissen smiled. Black Star reached into his pouch. He pulled out the True Amethyst, and focused his energy into the crystal. Soulissen’s barrier disappeared as if it had never existed. Soulissen closed his eyes and tried to sense what powerful magyck was emanating from the young man.
“Larmandi,” Soulissen hissed. “He gave you his power?”
“Aye,” Black Star said as he put the True Amethyst back into its pouch. “And it is a power I intend to use correctly!”
Black Star lashed out with his knife pommel, and drove it into Soulissen’s stomach. He focused his energy into the lapis-lazuli and the ruby, and the knife materialized in Soulissen’s guts. Soulissen only smiled and grabbed Black Star by the throat. He threw Black Star across the landing, perilously close to the edge. Soulissen walked up to Black Star, who was breathing heavily and grasping for his knife, which was lying just out of his reach. Soulissen let out a banshee-like cry and then laughed as he kicked Black Star over the edge to fall to his death.
“Farewell, Black Star the Thief!” Soulissen called over the edge in a mocking tone.
He turned around and began to walk towards the stairs. He didn’t see Black Star levitate onto the landing, surrounded in a bright, golden aura, and the True Stones in suspended animation in the air around him. He didn’t see Black Star sneak up on him, despite the aura. He definitely didn’t see the obsidian knife, now glowing gold like the sun, drive into his back.
Soulissen turned around and let out a scream so vile, so cruel that it would bring the strongest man to his knees. Black Star leapt back and allowed the obsidian to disappear, and split back into fire and ice. Soulissen saw the True Stones floating round Black Star and made a desperate grasp at them. The True Stones changed from emitting a golden aura to a fierce white glow, and then as if by their own will, each stone flew off in a different direction, blazing through the sky with such intensity that the entire world was covered in sacred light for a few seconds.
Soulissen cried out again, and he raised his rod. The citrine began to glow and a wicked bolt of lightning dropped from the sky. Black Star raised his knife up and sent the flames from the ruby and the ice from the lapis-lazuli to meet the storm. The fire, ice, and lightning all hit at the same time, and canceled each other out. Soulissen’s body could no longer hold its physical form, and broke apart into small spores of darkness, scattered by the winds.
Black Star stood up on the top floor of the tower. He was breathing heavily, and he raised his arms and let out a cheer. Some guards dashed up the stairs to see only Black Star there, the only sign that Soulissen had ever been there was a scorch mark on the ground where he dematerialized.
“M’lord? King Soulissen?” the guards cried as they stood at the top of the stairs. They looked to Black Star, who turned around and was wearing a broad smile on his face.
“It is done!” Black Star cheered. “He is gone! Soulissen is dead!”
The guards first stood in bewilderment, then they looked at each other and smiled. One guard tore the Crimson Behemoth badge off of his uniform, and the other began crying tears of joy. A courier had now come up to the top landing, and asked what the news was.
“The news,” the crying guard said. “The news is that Soulissen is dead. Rejoice, for we are free! Tell everyone! Call back the armies! And destroy those foul monstrosities of exploding powder and flying balls of lead! We are free!”

Ten years had passed since Soulissen had disappeared and Black Star set Swarbon free. There was a parade held on the tenth anniversary of that great day in honor not of Black Star the Thief, but in honor of Black Star the Liberator. The sun shone in the blue skies, and the Tower was shining a bright blue, after it was finally cleaned since it was first finished. The people called out in joy as their new king, Lord Gwabus, came down the streets. A brave and noble country with a brave and noble ruler now existed, not some recently liberated duchy under the control of a coward, or a kingdom run by a warmonger.
The trumpets blared out the tune of the national anthem as the people joyously sang along in its grand chorus. One child, holding his mother’s hand, turned around to look behind him. He saw a hooded man leaning against a tree, a knife pommel with ruby and lapis-lazuli set in it. The child waved, and Black Star, well out of the public view, gave a salute back. He disappeared back into the forest, and no one ever saw him, save the one child who had waved hello.

It was the night after the parade, and everyone was asleep in their beds. No one saw the dark spore float through the air. There was no breeze, but the spore still moved, as if controlled by some outside influence. The small spore flew into the forest, where it dodged in between the trees and under the branches and over the bushes. There, in the clearing, was a mass of these spores, awaiting their final brother. The spore landed on the dark, twitching pile, and the pile stopped pulsating.
The spores fused together, changing from dark blue to purple and white. They took the shape of a human, and Soulissen, after the reconstruction of his body was complete, stood up. He reached for where his rod ought to have been, and found nothing. He let out a cry of rage, and Archemagus appeared before him.
“Where is my rod, Archemagus?” Soulissen cried. “Answer me!”
“Well, Soulissen, it works like this.” Archemagus cackled. “Your rod, not being saturated in darkness long enough, was destroyed like the wooden stick it was.”
“But what of the Dark Crystals?” Soulissen pleaded.
“Crystals, stones, gems, whatever their name is, cannot be reconstructed like you.” Archemagus explained. “Once they are destroyed, they are gone forever. The True Stones have similar, if not greater powers.”
Soulissen nodded in understanding.
“Now then,” Soulissen murmured. “I know I must find the True Stones to realize the full extent of my power. But first, I must repay you a favor.”
Archemagus smiled at the prospect of a reward. Soulissen smiled and began chanting, and Archemagus’ smile grew broader. Archemagus was feeling lightheaded with anticipation, and he began floating. He felt butterflies in his stomach, and he closed his eyes. Moths burst out of Archemagus’ stomach and the rest of his body. Soulissen stopped levitating the dead, bleeding body and let it drop to the ground.
“Yes. I have repaid you a favor in whole.” Soulissen said, before he disappeared.
Soulissen knew he would win eventually. It was only a matter of time. And unlike anyone else, he could wait until the end of time. Somewhere, in a dark cave deep below the surface world, Soulissen smiled. All he had to do was wait.

Go to part: 1 2