Fallen Star [Ziall]

Chapter 6

Zayn Malik was dreaming. He was in an apple tree, staring through a window at Perrie Edwards, who was getting undressed. As she removed her dress, revealing a healthy expanses of petticoat, Zayn felt the branch begin to give way beneath his feet, and then he was tumbling down through the air in the moonlight... He was falling into the stars.

And the stars were talking to him: "Please," whispered the stars, "Zayn. Zayn. Niall is in grave danger. A unicorn came to help him, but now they're heading into a trap. No star is safe in Stormhold. The last one fell four hundred years ago and was captured by the same witches who seek Niall now. They tricked him, cared for him and when his heart was once more aglow they cut it from his chest and ate it." Zayn then jerked awake. "There's no time to waste. A coach is coming. By any means possible you must get on it. Run!" said the voice of the stars. Zayn jumped up and started to run. He could hear hoof-beats through the glade, coming closer. He knew that he could not reach it in time, despaired of reaching it, but still he ran faster, until all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest and his ears and the hiss of air as he pulled it into his lungs. He scrambled and dashed through the bracker and made it to the path as the carriage came down the track.

It was a black coach drawn by four night-black horses, driven by a pale fellow in a long black robe. It was twenty paces from Zayn. He stood there, gulping breath, and then he tried to call out, but his throat was dry, and his wind was gone, and his voice came from him in a dry sort of croaking whisper. He tried to shout, and simply wheezed. The carriage passed him by without slowing.

Zayn sat on the ground and caught his breath. Then, afraid for the star, he got back to his feet and walked, as fast as he could manage, along the forest path. He had not walked for more than ten minutes when he came upon a black coach. A huge branch, itself as big as some trees, had fallen from an oak tree onto the path directly in front of the horses, and the driver, who was also the coach's sole occupant, was endeavoring to lift it out of the way.

"Damnedest thing," said the coachman, who wore a long black robe and who Zayn estimated to be in his late forties, "there was no wind, no storm. It simply fell. Terrified the horses." His voice was deep and booming.

Zayn and the driver unhitched the horses, and roped them to the oak branch. Then the two men pushed, and the four horses pulled, and together they dragged the branch to the side of the track.

Zayn said a silent thank you to the oak tree whose branch had fallen, and then he asked the driver if he would give him a ride through the forest.

"I do not take passengers," said the driver, rubbing his bearded chin. "Of course. But without me you would still be stuck here. Surely, providence sent you to me, just as providence sent me to you. I will not take you out of your path, and  there may again come a time when you are need of another pair of hands."

The coach driver looked at Zayn over from his head to his feet. Then he reached into the velvet bag that hung from his belt, and removed a handful of square red granite tiles. "Pick one," he said to Zayn.

Zayn picked a stone tile, and showed the symbol carved upon it to the man. "Hmm," was all the driver said. "Now pick another." Zayn did so. "And another." The man rubbed his chin once more. "Yes, you can come with me," he said. "The runes seem certain of that. Although there will be danger. But perhaps there will be more fallen brances to move. You can sit up front, if you wish, on the driver's seat beside me, and keep me company."

It was a peculiar thing, observed Zayn as he climbed up into the drivers seat; but the first time he had glanced into the interior of the coach he had fancied that he saw five pale gentlemen, all in grey, staring sadly out at him. But the next time he had looked inside, nobody had been there at all.