The Fires of Starpoint Mountain

  THE FIRES OF

  STARPOINT MOUNTAIN

  By Bill Albert

  Fourth in the Starpoint Series

  For more info go to

  www.starpointmountain.com

  For Mom and Dad above all

  Special thanks to:

  Jesse for the cover

  Mandy who gave her a voice

  Megan, who knows what it’s like

  …and the storytellers who taught me.

  Copyright 2020 by Bill Albert

  ISBN 978-1-7948-0375-6

  First Edition

  Old Armory Entertainment

  BOOK ONE: FUEL

  CHAPTER ONE:EVEN NIGHT HAS A SHADOW 2

  CHAPTER TWO: FAMILIAR TOUCH 13

  CHAPTER THREE:AS GALLIF MARKED TIME 19

  CHAPTER FOUR: THAT DAY 26

  CHAPTER FIVE: SHADOW ATTACK 32

  CHAPTER SIX: KNOW YOUR ENEMIES 36

  CHAPTER SEVEN: SIGNS OF FLIGHT 42

  BOOK TWO: AIR

  CHAPTER EIGHT: TREMORS IN THE EMPIRE 53

  CHAPTER NINE: RESURRECTIONS 61

  CHAPTER TEN: PATH CROSS 66

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: OPEN MASKS 72

  CHAPTER TWELVE: KINGS AND PAWNS 80

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: WEB OF SPIDERS 88

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: DARKNESS FALLS EARLY 96

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: TO DUST 100

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: MR RAT 106

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:AS THOUSANDS WATCHED 112

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE ART OF BEING ME 119

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: I TOOK HER TEARS 127

  CHAPTER TWENTY: FAMILIAR GRAVES 131

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SCREAMS IN THE LIBRARY 141

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: WOUND DAY 158

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: CULTURE SHOCK 161

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: OTHER FACES 164

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: NOBLE SECRETS 168

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE LAST OF US DIE 173

  BOOK THREE: SPARKS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE EXECUTIONER’S DAY 185

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: HARD LANDING 187

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER 193

  CHAPTER THIRTY: THE POWER OF SEDUCTION 200

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: BLOOD FRENZY 214

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE LONG CLIMB 222

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: AS SECRETS FALL 229

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: HEAT 246 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: SPARKS 251

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: INFERNO 258

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: ASHES 281

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: SPOT FIRES 288

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: GENTLE GRAVES 293

  EPILOGUE:

  STARPOINT SUNRISE 296

  BOOK ONE:

  AIR

  CHAPTER ONE: EVEN NIGHT HAS A SHADOW

  Regional Giant Lord Judge Witchit sat back in the carriage and smiled at how this day was going to be remembered. Generations would speak about it and it, along with his no small part in the day, would soon become a Land of Starpoint legend. It was a matter of prefect timing that this glorious day should happen to be his last official day on the job. He had wondered what this day would be like, planned it for months, and had prayed to his god, Krui, for guidance and support to make it memorable. After eighty-five years in the judicial system he would be able to retire with grace and grow strawberries.

  The carriage took a sharp turn as it neared the city center of Outbound and he let his mind search for the proper words. What could he say on this momentous occasion? What phrase of insight or brilliance would he be remembered for?

  He reviewed his memories of what he had said the day that Paleth had ascended to the throne. He wondered if there was something, he’d said there that he could call back to. Though a reminder of better times may someday be needed it was best to leave it out now. Today it was anger and hatred in the air and he didn’t want to ruin that splendid feeling.

  When the carriage came to a stop at the steps of the stone court building Judge Witchit’s entourage was quickly in place around him. They told him the hobgoblin militia had informed them the wagon was in Outbound city limits and would arrive soon. He carefully adjusted his green and azure robes as he walked up the steps to the platform. There were a hundred of the hobgoblin militia lining the steps and countless citizens in the square who bowed respectfully as he walked and applauded as he took his rightful place with his attendants.

  He waited patiently considering what he would say when a glimmer in the crowd caught his attention. He smiled brightly knowing that Acrufix, the legendary Elven Killer, was here.

  The crowed bowed as Acrufix walked through them. Though they were obviously in awe of his presence he didn’t respond to them in any way. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, crossed his arms, and waited unmoving. Though no one could see through the cast onto his face they knew he was looking in the direction the criminal was coming from. They saw the same intensity and disgust in him that they felt in themselves.

  Of course, Witchit realized as he watched the famous, and somewhat dirty, man standing on the path beneath him. He was surprised that Acrufix was not wearing the shiny armor everyone was used to seeing him in. but realized the dented, scared armor showed signs of fighting monsters. All the better to appeal to the crowd, Witchit thought.

  That was it! Now he knew the right way to be remembered. He would connect the criminal to the monsters. Of course, she would make her plea of innocence and he would start from there. He would tell the crowd how she was the worst thing they had ever seen, even more evil than the elves. Like them she would never understand her guilt and only, in her eyes, could she be innocent. That would be brilliant, he chuckled, and he knew it would be one for the historians.

  There was some commotion on the east side of the center and the wagon, heavily guarded, entered the square. A few of the citizens, Witchit knew he should stop them but couldn’t blame them, threw rotten fruit at the carriage. Their aim was good enough they could hit the assassin but not touch any of the guards or giants escorting it. He had not expected Giant Lords with the party but felt even more satisfied at their appearance.

  The wagon stopped and one of the giants unchained the cage door while two more brandished their weapons. They swung the door open and the assassin was too weak to get out of their reach, so they pulled her brutally from the cage. Though she gave them no resistance the other guards quickly shackled her. They dragged her by her dirty red hair to her feet, bound her hands behind her back and fastened a metal collar around her neck.

  Mekon, Witchit had heard of him and was honestly honored that he had come this far to see him, joined them and they handed her leash to him. He ordered them away and he made brief eye contact with her telling her he was sorry. She didn’t respond in any way.

  Mekon walked up the stairs with her as the crowd jeered. Someone was angry enough to rush at her but there were enough guards to warn them back.

  Again, Witchit knew he should stop them but was too exhilarated by the sense of hatred and anger.

  At the top of the stairs Mekon pushed her to her knees. Witchit stood, ready for his words to become a legend, and paused as his authority and stance hushing the angry mob as he spoke.

  “Gallif of Starpoint,” Witchit said in a voice clear enough for all to hear, “You are brought before us accused of the assassination of the Fourth Minister. You are brought before us accused of the assassination of King Paleth of the Giant Lords. We will now hear your defense.”

  He took a deep breath ready to denounce her innocence and forever be remembered by his next words. He was so surprised that she rose to face him, and his mind raced to maintain control when she replied “Guilty.”

  “Oh, shit,” he said just bef
ore all hell broke loose and shouts and howls of hatred erupted from the crowd in all directions.

  “Kill her!”

  “Burn her!”

  “Send her to the elves where she belongs!”

  “Feed her to the elves!”

  “Elf! Elf! Elf!”

  Despite knowing the truth about the elves, a lifetime of hatred towards them made their jeers a painful sting and Gallif fought hard to hide any response and fuel their desire for revenge. A group of dwarves, halflings and humans started to push forward shaking their fists and shouting and quickly the hobgoblin militia moved in to control them. As they positioned themselves it was obvious, they were more intent on protecting Judge Witchit from any damage and it was only Gallif’s proximity to him that kept her safe.

  Witchit looked down at the disgusting human woman who had ruined his last great day. Despite the urge to order her immediate execution he had followed the rule of law all of his life and would not break that habit now. She had assassinated the king and the Third Minister, and she would be taken to Spring Field, go through the mercy process there, then executed. He would make sure he arrived there early enough to get a good seat.

  Something square and heavy he flew out from the crowd. A sharp, pointed rock slapped Gallif in the side of the head and she dropped to the floor unconscious lucky one. There was a cheer for from some of the crowd and they pushed forward to attack her.

  “Get her inside!” Mekon yelled that at the top of his giant lungs.

  All of the guards gathered around Gallif and carried her limp body up the steps. They were unconcerned about Gallif but getting her inside and out of everyone’s sight would have been the best way to prevent a riot.

  Acrufix took the steps two at a time and quickly follow them to the main doors of the building. As soon as the judge, Gallif, and the guards covering her had gone through the doors they closed quickly. The remaining guards, with Acrufix in front of them, started to dispose the angry mob.

  ***

  When Gallif opened her eyes the cell she was in started spinning in circles around her, so she quickly closed them again. She repeated the process several times and, though the world kept spinning, at least it started to slow down.

  She remembered staring at the judge knowing her guilty plea had caught him off guard. There was a commotion around her before a flash of light and then darkness. She remembered something hitting her and she reached up to touch her forehead. She winced as she connected with the bruise. She didn’t open her eyes again and guessed she must have a good-sized knot on her head. Maybe even of black eye.

  She sighed as she realized what still having the bruises meant and wasn’t surprised when she touched her stomach and felt a cloth shirt. Her armor, what if all of the casting properties of healing and protection, was gone. She reached down further and found, as expected, she was wearing a cloth pants given to the prisoners. She wrinkled her toes and she was barefoot.

  She opened her eyes in realized that she was facing a stone wall. The air was cool, and damp and she sensed she was underground. She puts a hand against a stone then moved forward and laid her cheek on the surface. She took a long a deep breath, rolled onto her back and held it as long as she could, then exhaled slowly. The pain from her bruises lessened and she slowly sat up, twisted, then wrapped the blanket around her as she rested with her back against the wall on the cot she had been dumped on.

  The sale she was in was an eight by eight-foot square with one side made of bars and a door. There was another cell across the hall, but it was dark, and she could not tell if there was anyone inside it. There were no windows, she was correct that she was underground, and she could hear the crackling fire of a large number of torches.

  She sat silently, her hands on the wall behind her, and breathed deeply for several moments. The pain finally receded, and she lightly touched the bruise above her left eye. It was still there but was definitely not as sensitive as before. She scooted forward and carefully put her feet onto the floor.

  “The prisoner in cell seven is awake,” a voice that seemed to come from everywhere in the room reported. She looked around, saw no one else in the area, and suspected that there must have been a cast on the floor to notify the guards.

  She heard the stopping of boots as someone approached in the hallway and four heavily armed hobgoblins appeared outside the cell. The captain of the squad nodded at his second-in-command who unlocked the cell door. He swung it open and they all entered brandishing very sharp and powerful swords. They took up a stance side by side between her and the door.

  “Four of you, armed and ready, to take me?” she asked. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”

  “Your reputation precedes you,” the captain said, “and the number of people who want you dead is multiplying rapidly.”

  She swallowed and looked at them differently as she realized they were there to protect her. Slowly she stood, they watch her every move, and before she started walking, she wrapped the blanket over her shoulders like a cape to keep her warm.

  “As far as cells go this one that wasn’t that bad,” she said. “A little chilly and damp but relatively clean. No rats.”

  “We aim to please,” the captain said and walked away. She was prodded by the remaining guards to follow.

  They marched down the hall and were just passing cell number two when two long, muscular arms suddenly and reached out to grab her. She was quick enough to step out of reach and look into the cell. The man there, if you could call him that, pressed himself against the bars. His skin was dark, and olive colored like Jayus had been. His eyes were blank, and he spat as he snapped his jaws as if trying to bite her.

  The captain ahead of her slowed only to snap his fingers several times and the hobgoblin guards prodded her to keep moving.

  They went through a common room filled with mostly hobgoblin guards, but also several humans and drawers. They all stopped what they were doing and turned to watch her until she left the room.

  They went through two locked doors, unlocked and locked by the same guard, then went up a flight of stairs into another hallway. She can see by the light slipping through with the base of a door that she was now on ground level.

  They made a sudden turn into an office where she winced at the intense sunlight coming through a window at the far. She blinked and tried to put her hands up to cover her face, but the four guards were strong in quickly pushed her into a chair strapping her arms into the solid wood. She heard the door close behind are in was followed by silence. Unable to protect herself from the glare she clamped her eyes shut and focused as far away from the sun as possible. She reminded herself to breathe slowly and steadily as she tried to think things out.

  She wandered how Jakobus was doing in the swamps. Hopefully he had managed to connect with Novelevon and convince him to help free the fairies. It was a tall task and she prayed, and the stranger would help. She had a great deal of confidence in her dwarven friend and believed that if anyone could convince the self-exiled hermit to aid them, he could. Certainly, setting right terrible wrongs and freeing the fairies from the stone cells must be noble enough for him to follow. If it failed and Novelevon had no interest and the fate of innocents perhaps the challenge of the cast would be enough. She also had to consider the progress of Lincilara, Blinks and their party. It could take another week or more to get to the dragon burial grounds. Gallif had no doubt they would make it, but what would happen once they were there was a big mystery. Would the danger they had faced the first time to be gone or would they be multiplied? Would the puzzles be the same? Marassa, before she had been exposed as a spy, had warned them that it took the right combination of talents to make it through the tunnels. She knew that the combination of a fairy, a human and one of the others was unique and she allowed herself to be confident in their success.

  She chuckled as she thought how Veret, her little brother, would have loved to go through the tunnels. The daemon and all the other things she ha
d seen there would have thrilled him.

  She sighed thinking how Maura would have handled it. The Maura she had met, the one that stole her heart, might not have handled the Burial Grounds well, but the Maura that was the ambassador for the Others could have taken charge of any expedition. Gallif imagined that the talented ambassador could even have talked Marassa in to helping them.

  She felt a great wave of sadness cover her as she thought how those two important souls were both gone. Maura had been killed by Veret’s hand and he it been killed by Gallif. She still felt their warm blood on her skin.

  There was also Luvin, that bright guiding light of a boy who had told her, correctly, that he would one day die for her. His life had revolved around her. He had never expected he would be betrayed by that bastard Jayus who had chosen the false legend of Acrufix over a life of a young man. The guilt was there, she couldn’t deny the guilt that she had failed to protect him like he had her. The guilt that she knew she must someday face.

  She heard the creek of a chair moving and her eyes snapped open as she realized she was not alone in the room.

  “Who is that?” she asked with the sunlight still blinding her.

  Someone stood and she could barely make out their silhouette as they passed back and forth in front of the window. She guessed by the size that it was human, but she couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

  “If you’re trying to scare me is really not working,” she said. “I can wait as long as you want,” she added trying to stretch her arms but the bonds on the chair were total. “I suppose I really don’t have much else to do.”

  The figure turned and before she could blink was suddenly standing directly in front of her. She tried to adjust her sight but before she could she received a powerful slap on the left side of her face. Its strength and suddenness caught her by surprise as head jerked to one side. She swallowed, tasted blood, and tried to spit it at her attacker, but just as fast they were suddenly behind her as one hand took a tight grip on her red hair and another grabbed her throat.