The Lighter That Shone Like A Star (Story of The South) Read online

  Contents

  The South

  PART ONE

  Max

  Freddie

  Haze

  Sofia

  Max

  Jimmie

  Max

  Freddie

  Haze

  PART TWO

  Sofia

  Matthew

  Russell

  Anne-Alicia

  Lornea

  Freddie

  Max

  Freddie

  Max

  Sofia

  Jimmie

  Freddie

  Lornea

  Max

  Freddie

  PART THREE

  Prisoner 001

  Russell

  Max

  Haze

  Max

  Sofia

  Prisoner 001

  Max

  Joz

  Anne-Alicia

  Freddie

  Prisoner 001

  Jimmie

  Russell

  Max

  Luc

  Max

  Freddie

  Russell

  Max

  Max and Sofia

  Haze

  Bernard Harding

  Acknowledgements

  The Lighter that Shone Like A Star

  Dan Cash

  Copyright © 2014 Dan Cash

  Cover Illustration and Design Copyright © 2014 by Nich Angell

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  This ebook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  For Jess, who read this first.

  For Mum, whose words of support and encouragement have filled these pages and many more.

  And for my Year One teacher, Mrs Pittaway, because a younger Dan Cash made a promise.

  The South

  Hurburt is a land not unlike our own. The animals of Hurburt are simple; horses, sheep, and cows graze the fields, pigs and poultry are kept in farms, and birds fly overhead keeping watch. Fish swim in rivers and lakes while deer and foxes reign the forests. Insects scuttle along the ground and flutter in the air; respected by all and feared by none.

  Its people are content. A desire for change is overpowered by a longing for security. Hurburtans are often divided in opinion but generally understand each other's views. However, while politics rule Hurburt they do not rule its people. There are no gods and no religion.

  The biggest difference between our lands, and perhaps the most difficult to comprehend, is that Hurburt has neither seen murder nor war. Hurburt stands alone in The South, as it is not a magical land. It is intelligence and kindness that sets Hurburtans apart from those of the other lands.

  Terexe is like nowhere in our world. Fire and water rule over the land. In the Fiery Mountains reside creatures of flame and ember, beautiful to see but lethal to touch. The creatures of the oceans are gentle and kind, but should not be treated without delicate caution. While people of Terexe live in harmony, outsiders crave knowledge of the land's magic and mystery.

  War has waged, but Terexe is not easily defeated.

  Salmont is the most mystical of the Southern lands and its people are said to lead lives cushioned by clouds and unreality. Salmontaïc people drift with the butterflies but in times of trouble they have been known to soar alongside dragons. It is where dreams are realised and wishes come true.

  Sheep occupy the meadows and fields but they are rarely used to satisfy the needs of the people. Instead, nourishment is provided by what can be grown in the earth or found in the waters.

  It is said that while Salmontaïc people no longer speak the ancient dialect of their land, it is the only language known by the animals. Thus, they roam freely.

  Rysked was once known as Red Sky, with skies of deep blood-red warning The South of danger lurking. War came and, since The End, its skies are blue during the day and black after sundown.

  People and creatures live in harmony, under the cover of their own invisibility. If an outsider were to visit Rysked, nobody is seen. Rysked folk make their presence known only when it suits them. They do not use their magic to spy on nor sneak upon others and if anybody did, then banishment would be the kindest punishment.

  The South has just four lands, unlike the North, East, and West, which each have five. However, a fifth land was once rumoured in The South and came to be known as Naegis. The origins of this fictional land are unclear, but the Southern people were forever fascinated by the Naegean fairytales.

  Hurburtans were particularly intrigued because they had no magic of their own. To dream about Naegis was to discover magic.

  Every Naegean fairytale began in the same way:

  Naegis is neither here nor there.

  It is in your dreams but not in your imagination.

  You can seek Naegis but it will never be found.

  If you do not seek Naegis, it may find you.

  In times of trouble, Naegis will call.

  Be warned:

  Naegis is a secret and secrets must be kept.

  Naegis was the most mystical and magical land in the world. Centuries ago, there was not a person alive who did not believe it existed. It was simply accepted that, somewhere across the seas, Naegis rested. But as curious explorers searched the vast oceans it soon became clear that only water rested there.

  People did not stop believing, though. Maybe Naegis was hidden beneath the waters or up above the clouds. Perhaps it was untraceable or invisible. Parents continued to read the fairytales to their children, but over time children stopped believing that they were true. They became mere stories.

  As time passed, only four people continued to believe that Naegis exists. The oldest of this quartet was Bernard Harding, an author from Pipton, a quaint town in eastern Hurburt.

  Bernard’s parents would read the Naegean fairytales to him every night before he slept until he was able to read them himself. They were the only books he had known until he began school.

  To Bernard, the existence of Naegis was unquestionable and the fairytales were fragments of history. His parents tried to reason with him and his peers laughed at him for believing in such nonsense, but to Bernard it made every sense. For a long time, mockery precariously balanced on a blurred border between banter and bullying, until the young boy soon learnt to keep his beliefs hidden and his mouth firmly shut. Bernard had once planned to explore the world in search of Naegis but his dreams soon changed, as dreams often do.

  His wife, daughter, and several published novels were all of his dreams come true.

  That was until the sixth of June, nineteen ninety-six. It was a day like any other. Bernard’s alarm clock wailed at him until eventually his arm reached out from under the duvet and clumsily found the snooze button.

  The ‘five more minutes’ he promised himself soon turned into half an hour, as it did every day, until he finally rolled out of bed. It was not as if he had any reason to be up early, he just preferred to make the most of his days. He liked to have eight hours sleep every night. No more, no less – not including his post-alarm doze. That left him sixteen hours each day to do whatever he so wished.

  His wife, Mary, worked in Jill’s Café. Bernard’s hugely successful career meant that she did not need to work but she chose to nonetheless. Mrs. Harding claimed that she liked to keep busy but Bernard knew that she just liked hearing the town’s gossip. People go to cafés for one of two reas
ons, in Bernard’s opinion. The first: to have some time alone with their thoughts whilst sipping a hot drink and watching the world go by. The second: to meet a friend for a good old natter and gossip.

  On the days that Mary worked, Bernard would meander over to Jill’s at lunchtime for a black coffee and a chicken sandwich. Every day he would greet his wife with a kiss, discuss his latest project with Jill, and sit at the window with a notebook and pen. Some days Bernard would sit there for hours, writing page after page of ideas, notes, and storylines. Other days, he would scribble a few words only to give up and return home.

  On this particular day, he sat on a lime green plastic chair at the window with his coffee and sandwich, but did not write. Instead, he sat in silence. When he had taken his last bite of lunch and only dregs of coffee remained, Jill walked over to his table.

  “Another coffee, Bernie?” she asked in her spritely manner. Jill had a raspy, sing-song voice that lit up any room, and a smile to match. Bernard looked up at her vacantly. “Bern? Do you want another coffee, love?”

  “Oh. Uhh…” He shook himself out of his daze, “No thanks, darlin’. Think I’ll be headin’ home actually.”

  “Are you all right, love?” she enquired, concerned. Bernard was the sharpest man in Pipton, possibly in the whole of Hurburt; this was most unusual behaviour.

  “Yes, I just…” He hesitated for a moment, “I just got carried away with me own thoughts.”

  “Well, you want to write it all down Bern, could lead to your next big one!” She placed her aging hand on his shoulder, smiled at him, and ruffled his hair playfully. Bernard pushed himself out of his chair and walked up to the counter to give his wife another kiss. Neither of them knew that it would be the last time they would see each other.

  Bernard stepped over the threshold into his rustic, homely cottage and hurried upstairs to the smallest of his mahogany bookcases. Once he had found the book he sought and was sitting in his comfortable reading chair, the aging man opened the first page and read aloud, “Naegis is neither here nor there…”

  Two and a half hours later, Mary returned home from work.

  “Bernard,” she called out breathlessly. “You’ll never guess who’s suddenly reappeared… Bernard?” She stepped into the living room, calling her husband’s name. She assumed he must be upstairs, probably reading or writing some poem or novel.

  “Well,” she continued, walking up the uneven, wooden stairs. “He’s back! Saw him today walking past the café with this dirty, grey sack slung over his shoulder! Odd, isn’t in Bern? Gone for weeks and then… Bern?” She had reached his reading chair, but he was not sitting in it.

  Instead, a book lay there, open. Mary recognised it immediately as the last page of the Naegean fairytales. She picked it up, careful not to tear the delicate pages, and began to read the last paragraph of the final fairytale:

  And so, the New King slowly walked to where the Old had fallen. He placed his palms together and looked unto the grey skies. No more tragedy would fall upon this land of peace, beauty, and magic, now divided due to war and conflict. The king allowed his hands to part before suddenly crashing them together.

  There, in front of him, a wall began to form, tall and strong, to mark the new era of Naegis.

  The Clemari then bestowed unto the other four lands a gift, or perhaps a curse, to help rebuild The South bigger and stronger than ever before.

  He walked silently to where his queen was standing dressed all in white and holding a single lily. Together they stood, in mourning.

  One land was now two, separated by an immense barrier.

  Only when this barrier threatened to fall would Naegis seek help.

  He was the King of Naegis, the protector of The South, and the enemy of the other side.

  And he would wait.

  Mary slumped down into Bernard’s brown leather chair, the book clutched to her chest. Tears swam in her eyes as she realised that the impossible had happened. Her husband was never coming back. Naegis had found him.

  The South was in trouble.

  PART ONE

  Max

  Matthew and Russell were late, again. They had not been on time once this week, which meant that Max was also late. On Monday it had slightly annoyed him, but today was Friday and he was furious.

  Max had always been punctual; he woke up when his alarm sounded, ate breakfast, showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed, carefully moulded his blonde hair into a tidy mess, and grabbed a red apple as he left his door at eight-fifteen sharp. It was eight twenty-three and Max was pacing his living room.

  He would not let his two best friends see that he was angry, though. They already found him annoying, Max was sure of that. Whenever they were all together, Max felt like the odd-one-out. Matthew and Russell had private jokes, they had stopped inviting him out in the evenings, they rolled their eyes in unison when Max said anything, and they always kept him waiting. Max spent every minute of every school day with his two best friends and yet he had never felt more alone.

  When he had told his mother of his worries, she said, “True friends don’t bring you down, they lift you up. During times of self-doubt, they believe in you. When you frown, they alone know how to make you smile. But true friends can also cause you more pain and upset than any enemy ever could. Talk to them about it; tell them how you feel. They’ll understand.” Max, however, was not convinced.

  It did not help matters that Matthew and Russell were more popular than Max, especially when it came to girls. They were both taller than Max, with dark hair and handsome faces. Matthew could pierce any girl’s heart with his emerald-green eyes and when Russell smiled, girls forgot how to talk. Girls tended to refer to Russell as the ‘cute’ one and Matthew as the ‘hunky’ one. Max was only ever ‘the-cute-one-and-hunky-one’s-short-blonde-friend’.

  Max was not necessarily bad-looking but he was constantly compared against his two handsome comrades.

  There was one boy in the school who girls loved more than anyone else, a million times more than Matthew and Russell. His feathery blonde hair, electric blue eyes, and rugged good looks made Freddie Vassallo the boy next door.

  Max hated him.

  Freddie’s twin sister, Sofia, was the most beautiful girl in all The South, Max was sure. With fiery red hair, the same dazzling blue eyes as her brother and a soft, pretty face, Sofia was the girl who every boy wanted to be with and who every girl wanted to be.

  Max loved her.

  Sometimes he saw her gazing at Matthew and Russell and each time he liked his friends a little bit less. He wished more than anything that she would look in his direction, just once. One glance might be enough for him to steal her heart.

  It was eight-thirty when the doorbell finally rang. The same time as the school bell, then, Max thought as he answered the door.

  “Hi Max,” Matthew beamed at him. “No apple this morning?”

  Russell coughed, no doubt covering a snigger.

  “No,” Max replied with an edge to his voice. “I ate it while I was waiting for you two.” His friends rolled their eyes as Max stepped out of his front door to join them. They walked to school in silence, Max steaming ahead of the other two. He peered over his shoulder to see his friends dawdling, faces buried in their ScribblePads.

  There were two reasons why Max did not like ScribblePads: the first was that everyone at school was always fixed to theirs, the second was that he did not own one.

  “You two, we’re already late, hurry up!” Max urged them.

  “Oh, just run on ahead if you’re so worried,” Russell snapped.

  “If you two just put your ScribblePads away, we’d be there in five seconds.”

  “Fine! We’ll put them away,” Matthew sighed. “But, y’know, when you eventually get one you’ll be exactly the same as us.”

  Max resented the way he drew out the word ‘eventually’.

  The three boys remained in silence until they arrived at their first class, history, and had to exp
lain why they were late, again. Max looked at Matthew and Russell and could see that they were sorry. Not because they had made Max late but because they had all been given detention.

  As they were late, there was not a table left for them all to sit together. So, Matthew and Russell sat together at the table in front of the teacher’s desk, leaving Max to search for a spare seat.

  There were only two remaining: one next to a boy who Max hated for a reason that he had since forgotten (loner, Max sneered in his mind), and another at the back of the room, next to Sofia. Anne-Alicia must be away, Max thought as he nervously made his way towards the rear of the classroom.

  Sofia had not realised that Max was coming to sit next to her, only acknowledging him once he had clumsily flung his jacket on the back of the chair. She smiled at him quickly and turned back to face the blackboard.

  Max plonked himself down onto the uncomfortable plastic chair and retrieved his books and pencil case from his bag. He opened his copybook to the next blank page, rushing to scrawl notes from the board before Mr. Dyre erased them. Max’s pen wrote half the date and stopped working. He shook it and tried again but still it refused to share its ink with paper.