Starfinder

ONE MORE STEP

WITH ONE BLOW OF HIS HUNTING horn, Jorian called his centaurs to battle.

Out in the open, they could see the Avatar descending from the sky, like a great, black cloud obscuring the sun. They did not hide nor try to shield Fiona from what might come. Instead, they gathered in a meadow around their Chieftain, over two hundred strong, to defend their valley. Fiona stood at Jor-ian’s side, nestled between him and Nessa. The Avatar had been badly damaged somehow, the front of its carriage covered with cloth, one engine whining louder than the other. The giant airship seemed to limp into Pandera, but Fiona warned Jorian not to be fooled.

“Remember the guns,” she told him. “Once you hear ’em it’s too late.”

Surrounded by his fellow centaurs, his outsized bow clamped in his fist, Jorian watched in fascination as the airship floated earthward. He had promised to protect Fiona, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“He wants the Starfinder,” she told Jorian. “He must think I have it.”

“Then they don’t have the boy,” Jorian surmised. “Your friend would have told them he gave the Starfinder to Merceron.” He glanced at Fiona. “Right?”

“Yeah,” said Fiona. “Or no. Moth’s pretty stubborn sometimes.”

“You’re not making sense. If you’re afraid, do not be. Never let your enemies see you afraid, Little Queen.”

Fiona didn’t know what she was feeling. Her feelings were a jumble. Part of her hoped Moth was safe on the Avatar, but another part hoped he’d escaped somehow. Maybe he’d eluded her grandfather that night she fell into the river. Maybe he was already with Merceron. Kyros, Jorian’s friend and advisor, approached from the back ranks, muscling past young Tyrin to replace him at Jorian’s side.

“The young ones are all inside,” he announced. He’d galloped hard from the village and was short of breath.

Jorian pointed at the Avatar. “Look at that, Kyros,” he said, unable to hide his awe. “How can such a thing fly?”

Kyros scoffed. “Dragons fly,” he reminded his Chieftain. “What good did it do them?” He considered Fiona. “I should take you back to the village.”

Jorian looked down at Fiona. “Is that what you want? You would be safer there.”

“Everyone in the village is here,” said Fiona. “So this is where I belong too.”

“Little Queen,” beamed Jorian. “Good. Then we shall face your grandfather together.”

They watched as the Avatar’s engines slowed and the ponderous ship settled to the ground. Fiona wondered if her grandfather could see her, standing at the front of an army of centaurs. She wondered if he felt pride or fear, or anything at all. Kyros shouted for the centaurs to prepare themselves, sending them fanning out behind him. Without armor, with only bare flesh to protect them, Fiona knew the Avatar’s guns could cut them down like grass.

And yet they were fearless.

Fiona took Nessa’s hand. Jorian was right—she was afraid. Nessa felt the coldness of her fingers and looked down with sympathy.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “If you want to go to the village…”

Jorian overheard her and fixed her with an angry glare. “She’s made her choice,” he snapped. “This is her home now. Home is the one place where you don’t run from anyone.”

Embarrassed, Fiona straightened and tried to look tall, but she felt small surrounded by the centaurs. Small, like a little girl. She thought of what she would say to her grandfather when she saw him, how she might curse him or beg him to leave her alone, but when the door to the Avatar’s carriage dropped open, her whole brain went blank.

The centaurs fell silent as the first men appeared. Instead of swarming out like bees, they moved purposefully to flank the airship, rifles in hand. Jorian tensed. On top of the airship and along its catwalks other men appeared.

“He sees her,” said Tyrin. “They won’t shoot.”

“No girl, no Starfinder,” agreed Kyros. The old centaur let his hand hover over his quiver, itching to draw.

“Stand with me,” said Nessa softly, gathering Fiona close. But Fiona pulled away. Another figure started down the gangway, portly, unsteady on his feet, a long dark coat sweeping behind him. Despite his familiar face, Fiona almost didn’t recognize him.

“Grandfather?”

Fiona peered at him, confused. He stepped away from his wall of men, swaying as he walked, his skin pale and face wretched. A soldier hurried out to help him, but he waved the man back.

“Is that him?” Jorian asked incredulously.

“Something’s wrong,” said Fiona. “He looks sick.”

“Battle,” Kyros guessed. “Look at his ship.”

Rendor struggled toward them, not stopping until he was halfway between the centaurs and his airship. Fiona could see him clearly now, his face grooved with exhaustion, his stance weary but determined. When his eyes met Fiona’s, he reached out his hand.

“Fiona!”

Jorian galloped out a few yards, kicking up earth with his hooves. “I am Jorian, Chieftain of Pandera! This child’s protector, Rendor!”

Rendor didn’t flinch. “I came over those mountains to get her back, Centaur. If you think you can scare me, forget it.”

The soldiers behind him brought up their rifles. Jorian laughed.

“You have trapped yourself, fool!”

“We’ve got guns,” warned Rendor. “Ever see what a half-inch shell can do to a horse?”

“Stop!” screamed Fiona. She launched herself toward Jorian. “I don’t want this! I don’t want you fighting for me!”

Her grandfather took another step forward. “Fiona, you don’t need him anymore. I’ll take you home.”

“You can’t go home, human,” spat Jorian. “Haven’t you realized? The Skylords won’t let you. You’re trapped.”

“Then we’ll fight our way out,” sneered Rendor. “But I won’t leave without Fiona.”

“But I don’t have the Starfinder!” Fiona cried. “It’s gone! We gave it to Merceron!”

“I already have the Starfinder, Fiona! I have it!”

“You have it? What…?”

Her grandfather spread out his hands. “I came here for you!”

Jorian moved up, gently shoved Fiona aside, and raised up his bow. His hand was already glowing when he picked out an arrow.

“I’m vowed to her,” he told Rendor. “That might not mean anything in the human world, but here it is gold.”

“Jorian, no!” cried Fiona. “You’ll kill him!”

She reached for him, pulling at his arm. Kyros shot forward and dragged her backward.

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Don’t shoot him!”

Determined, Jorian nocked his arrow and drew back on his bow string. The arrow changed to sparkling light amid a cacophony of rifle bolts. Rendor put up his hand to stay his soldiers.

“If you shoot me,” he told Jorian, “you’ll be dead the next second.”

Jorian aimed, ignoring Fiona’s frenzied pleas. “One more step, human.”

Fiona was crazed. She kicked at Kyros, even biting to break his grip, but the old centaur’s arms coiled around her like a python.

“Nessa, stop him!” Fiona pleaded.

Nessa didn’t move. Not a single centaur spoke to aid her. Astonished by their cruelty, Fiona cried out to her grandfather.

“Go back!” she hollered. “I’ll find my way home! I will, I promise!”

Her grandfather held his ground. Staring down the flaming arrow, he took that last, forbidden step.

And Jorian let his arrow fly.

Horrified, Fiona watched it race toward Rendor, watched as her grandfather didn’t flinch, then watched the arrow sail past his ear, up over his soldiers, and into the sky.

Fiona didn’t know what happened. She looked at Jorian, who lowered his bow.

“Let her go,” the Chieftain told Kyros.

Stunned, Fiona fell out of Kyros’ arms. Across the field her grandfather dropped to his knees. Soldiers rushed forward to help him. Jorian held up a hand to keep his own fighters back.

“A brave man,” said the Chieftain. “Like his granddaughter.”

Fiona wanted to slap him. “A test?” she asked, choked by tears. She looked angrily at Nessa. “Even you?”

Jorian bowed down to face her. “He trapped himself here for you,” he said, “but I needed to be certain. Go to him.”

Fiona looked at her grandfather—out of breath and sick-—on his knees in the grass. She hadn’t run to him in years, not since she was a little girl. Now, though, Fiona ran.