Followed By A Star

Followed By A Star

                “Mum, can you tell the story of Dytja and the stars?” asked the boy.

His mother smiled at him, and replied, “No, honey. I don’t know that one. You’ll have to wait until your father finishes chatting.”

“Okay,” said the boy. Five years old, he was starting to properly remember his favourite stories. It made him proud – maybe he could be a record keeper, like his grandfather. Although the way his grandfather told stories was… Long, and often boring. But the boy thought that he’d be like that one day too; when he was old and grey-haired.

The boy’s mother hadn’t grown up a Seeker – she had married his father and joined the group then. Outside marriages were fairly common – most of the Seekers were related, and marrying outside the group was necessary. Usually their spouses would join them on the road, although there were instances wherein a Seeker would settle down (these individuals formed the backbone of the communication and news network the Seekers had developed into in many lands, in fact).

Although the boy did not understand the significance of it, both of his parents had been drinking that day. The Seeker caravan had camped for several days on a hill not far from some caverns that Dytja had once walked (according to rumour); while several members of the group explored the caverns the rest were idle (if not attending to their trades).

This left the idle with little to do except drink and tell stories – the boy had been having a great time, in fact, as had many of the other children. It was rare that the Seekers stopped moving for long – they dared not overstay their welcome. To do so would tarnish not only their own reputations but (potentially) even that of Dytja. Some groups had, in the past, curtailed their travels; but much like those who worshipped Dytja as a goddess they were viewed as no longer being Seekers.

It was not long before the boy’s father finished chatting with the jeweller – a simple conversation about what trade the boy might pick up in the future – and returned to the entrance of the family’s tent, where the boy sat with his mother.

“Finished chatting, Holdyt?” asked the boy’s mother.

“That I have, Lucy-ja,” replied the boy’s father.

“Do you really have to add the ja, Holdyt?” said the boy’s mother.

“You know what I mean by it – respect, and that you’re one of us despite being born outside!” replied the boy’s father.

“It’s kind of ridiculous, Hol. There’s no requirement that everyone has parts of ‘Dytja’ in their name.”

“But Lucija is a fine name!”

“And if we have a daughter, that can be her name, Holly.”

“Or Hollydyte, after my grandmother.”

“Dad,” said the boy, interrupting his parents’ banter.

“Yes, Holdyt janar?” replied the boy’s father. ‘Janar’, a corruption of ‘junior’, was regularly used by the Seekers due to the presence of ‘ja’ – one of several unique (and deliberate) quirks of speech. As with much else, the use of ‘janar’ varied between Seeker groups.

“Can you tell me the story of Dytja and the stars again?” asked the boy.

“That I can, young Seeker,” his father replied. “But pop yourself in bed first. I’ll come tell the tale after I share a couple of words with your mother.”

“Okay Dad,” said the boy. Leaving his parents at the entrance, he wandered into the tent.

It was not a small tent – nor a camping tent – by any stretch of the imagination. It was about ten metres across, and subdivided into several rooms. One room was a communal eating and greeting area, and three were bedrooms (one for the boy, one for his two younger siblings, and one for his parents). Not much of the space was used – most of their gear was stored on the family wagon (owned by the boy’s grandfather). The boy’s parents were tailors, but they worked with the tools of the Seeker master tailor and in his workshop, leaving their tent with only bedding, clothes chests and some seating and luxuries.

One of those luxuries was the boy’s night light – a magical orb that glowed when the ambient light was too low. The seminal tale of the Seekers, when Dytja turned back the dark, had made the boy scared of the dark (despite the story not being about literal darkness). His parents didn’t mind – there was no need for the boy to be overly brave, even in battle. The Seekers rarely fought anyone, as their caravans were rarely rich and often bristling with strange weapons and magic amassed during their travels. The flag all groups flew –the Seeker sign – made it clear as day who they were.

The boy snuggled into his bedding and started to wait for his father. He held onto his nightlight, staring at it. It let off pure white light, which was beautifully different from the flickering orange glow of the candles and torches used throughout the rest of the camp.

He was not waiting long. “Well, Holdyt janar, are you ready to hear the tale of Dytja and the stars?” his father asked, slipping through the tent’s fabric door with a candle in hand.

“Yes Dad!” replied the boy, setting his night light down beside him.

“That’s my lad,” said the boy’s father. “Now, where do we begin…”

“A millennium and a half ago or so, Dytja came upon a town in the middle of a plain of stone. The only fertile ground for hundreds of miles, in all directions. People cut off from the rest of the world lived there – they had no goods desired by others, and no reason to leave their comfortable homes.

“We believe Dytja would have travelled there regardless of the stories, to see a town so far removed from the rest of the world. But the stories – it is said that the moment she heard them, she started to travel towards the town. The stories, they told of terrible things. That the people killed each other, ate each other, despite there being no need. Horrible tortures inflicted upon those chosen. Children burnt alive. Limbs fed to their owners. All of this, at the behest of some mysterious gods.

“When Dytja came to the town one night, she noticed something truly strange. In the sky, directly above the town, was a bright cluster of stars – brighter than any she had ever seen, or has seen since. Now whether Dytja knew then what was going on, or whether she did not know until later, we are unsure. The story, as we heard it, merely states that she noticed the brightness of the stars, as they shone like a beacon in the sky. The stars – visible from the edges of the plain, in the places people wandered, had given the town its name: Starwatched.

“It did not take Dytja long to find signs of depravity. In this first square she came to, a group of children – about your age, son – were torturing a dog. ‘Why are you doing this?’ Dytja asked them. ‘The stars said we must!’ the children replied. ‘The stars?’ asked Dytja. ‘The stars!’ responded the children, returning to their despicable duty.

“Dytja walked the streets of the town. There was little true horror that day – beyond animals being tortured, and bizarre rites of self-harm, the town was quiet. It was not a day for murder, nor cannibalism. But it was still foul beyond all measure – almost the darkest sight Dytja had seen in our world, she later said. Eventually, she came upon the temple of the stars. It was a grand building, towering over a hundred metres straight upwards, a complicated series of mirrors and gaps designed to convert the light of the stars into a message for the town. Messages read by the high priest, who Dytja found within.

“’The stars have noticed you, traveller,’ the high priest said to her, as she moved into the inner sanctum. ‘Why have they allowed me to pass so far?’ Dytja asked of the priest. ‘You are no threat – a lone traveller, no army. And it seems they desire not your pain – perhaps they feel you will tell tales of us once you have left, that will keep away any greedy eyes. They see much, high above as they are,’ the priest replied.

“’Why do you do as they demand? Such sickness… Why do you not ignore them?’ asked Dytja. ‘What? The mighty stars are our guardians! Our light in the darkness! Should we falter in our devotion, their watchful eye will move elsewhere! Armies of terror will rise and come to kill us all!’ the priest responded, ‘If the stars do not rain fire down upon us themselves!’

“’So the stars truly do demand this… Madness,’ said Dytja. The priest seemed confused, but then saw that her gaze was upon the stars’ light. Intricate, shifting patterns  that formed the language of the stars. ‘You can read their message?’ asked the priest loudly, shocked. ‘Only the chosen of the stars are to be taught their language!’ he added, angrily.

“Dytja smiled, they say. ‘I don’t think they’re going to mind for much longer,’ she said, before running the high priest through with her blade. She was so swift in her attack that other priests and priestesses, who had gathered at the entrances, did not even see her draw her blade.

“With a mighty shout, they charged her, fury at her sacrilege overriding sense. She slew them all with ease – a mob of unarmed clergy is scarcely dangerous to a well-trained warrior, let alone to Dytja. With the priests slain or otherwise gone (it is often said that some fled), Dytja began pulling strange objects from her pouches.

“A lone priestess walked up to her meekly, stepping carefully over the bodies of her brethren. ‘Why have you done this?’ she asked, ‘This will only bring the anger of the stars down upon you!’ Dytja replied to the warning with laughter in her voice. ‘I hope to see them try,’ she said, ‘I am going to end this insanity.’

“As Dytja worked, setting up a small device piece by piece, the priestess began to speak. ‘I hope you succeed,’ she said. Dytja responded with a raised eyebrow, which prompted her to continue. ‘Not all – in truth, not many – of us feel that we should do what the stars say. Perhaps long ago, when their demands were not so… Evil. Even though we all grow up with the horror, and perform the most despicable acts, we know that it is wrong. The oldest scriptures, and the way of life passed down from our ancestors, is against the commands. But if we turn against them they will destroy us! We have countless tales of the wrath of the stars. I… When I was younger, the home of a family that refused to sacrifice their first born was destroyed by fire from the sky.’

“’Have you considered leaving? They cannot see everything,’ interjected Dytja. The device she was assembling was almost complete – a strange cylindrical device, with several protruding extensions, that stood about ten centimetres tall. ‘They do see everything!’ cried the priestess, ‘And they would follow us across the planet to catch us.’ Dytja shook her head, and clicked the final piece into place. ‘I can assure you they do not see everything, or else they would have long since rained fire down upon me,’ Dytja said, opening another pouch and rifling through it.

“The priestess looked forlornly at Dytja, hopeless. ‘Whatever that device does, it cannot reach the stars. They are far beyond even the roof of the sky. They light up the darkness beyond it! Even could you attack them, no weapon can harm them. And they number beyond counting,’ said the priestess. ‘This is a tiny, experimental device I took from a ruined invader stronghold,’ said Dytja. ‘It is called a teleporter. It can move whatever I can fit inside it great distances – for example, up to the stars. Unfortunately I have yet to meet anyone who can make it large enough for a human, and it will most likely be destroyed after I use it. But it will get this-‘ Dytja said, pausing to hold a small cube in front of the priestess ‘-up there.’

“’This device is called a blue-green bomb. I have been looking for a safe place to get rid of it for a while, and I am embarrassed that I never thought of sticking it up in space until now. But this deadly little thing is about to save you – it will destroy every last star. It’ll also be one hell of a show,’ said Dytja. The priestess did not understand what the cube – barely four centimetres across, four sides blue and four green – could accomplish. But she quickly realised that such a cube had to possess immense power. Do you remember why, son?”

“Because cubes only have six sides!”

“That’s right. Yet this one, somehow, had eight. The priestess had to stop looking at it, as it was too much for her mind, and most versions of the tale say that Dytja herself did not even look at it once. Back to the tale, Dytja spent a short time looking up through the roof of the temple at the stars, perhaps figuring out how distant they truly were. Then she twisted the cube, popped it into the cylinder and pulled a small lever on the cylinder’s side.

“A loud buzzing noise slowly built in the room, until it became almost unbearable. Then, with a sudden flash, the cube was gone! As the teleporter fell apart (or dissolved, as some say) Dytja walked into the centre of the room, the place where the message of the stars was caught.

“Suddenly, a great light flared in the sky – so bright, it was as if the sun had been dragged down to the ground! The brightest point was right in the middle of where the stars had been, just moments ago. All the lands that bordered the great stony plain could see it – and even the lands beyond those. The great light seemed to last for an age, but it was not long before it began to fade away. And where that light – so intensely bright – had been, there was now only darkness. No stars remained.

“For the first time in thousands of years, the place where Dytja stood was lit only by a few sputtering torches. The stars, and their horrible demands, were no more.

“What happened next is not entirely clear. Some say that the town celebrated Dytja, and swore fealty to her instead of the stars. Others say that almost the entire town attacked her as she left, and she slew them all. We think… We think that she left with none of them the wiser; with only that priestess knowing the full extent of what happened. It is her account that tells us most of what we know, in fact – and the last she saw of Dytja was her back as she began to leave the temple.

“Now, we know this event is why a star follows Dytja. But we do not know if that star survived the explosion, or if they were elsewhere and returned after their kin were slain. But the star that follows Dytja – it is an evil star, and a vengeful one. It has followed Dytja for many years, and it is the reason she is sometimes called the ‘Starwatched One’.”

“I wonder why she hasn’t killed it?” asked the boy.

“Well, I’d like to think it’s because the star is no threat to her,” replied the boy’s father. “But perhaps it’s just because she can’t. Yet.”