Dutybound

by Mark Aaron Alvarez

  ***

  “Lucia,” he mumbled, breaking from his sleep. “Lucia!” Leo was drifting from what seemed one world to the next. There was water. He saw it, water flowing under a violent storm. He stared across it from the shore, watching as the tide rose up and over his feet, cold as stinging ice.

  As he stared into that sea, he knew exactly what it was: death. The water had turned black, a violet wave twisting upward like a serpent, glowing crimson at its tip. He could not explain what he was seeing or where he was. All he knew was that he needed to be afraid. He needed to fear the water, or possibly what lay beneath it.

  “Get up!”

  This is a terrible reality, he thought as his dream broke from his vision with the harsh blow of a foot into his stomach. Leo coughed and wheezed, gasping for air.

  “Stop crying like a little girl and get up, you traitor!”

  Leo made out the faint glow of gray and recognized dirt underneath him. His mind was still in a haze. He was surrounded by three guards, all garbed in armor and spitting on him as he struggled to raise his head. He was disoriented and confused as to why these men hated him, but something told him that they knew—they knew his father was dead. Instinctively, he reached for his side, where he touched the outline of his sheath. He searched for his dagger but, in a panic, realized it was gone.

  “Looking for this?” a guard taunted, waving Leo’s silver dagger in front of his face. “It looks pleasantly expensive. Custom made.” He ran a finger along its edge and bent down over Leo, who was still struggling for air and in too much pain to move. “Don’t you suppose this is the same blade he killed his father with?” He took the blade and slowly ran it over Leo’s cheek. “What a shame it would be . . . ”

  Leo looked into his hateful eyes. He was a Carist, but obviously not a smart one, based on his looks and his lowly job as a prison guard. He was dirty, wrinkled, and balding quickly. Leo held his breath to avoid the stench of his decaying mouth.

  The guard finally finished his threat. “If I had to run this into your chest because you refuse to listen. Just like you did your poor ol’ dad.” He released a vile laugh. “But honestly, prisoners like you make my job a lot more fun.” He dragged the knife deeply across Leo’s face.

  Leo groaned, tightening his cheek as the warmth of his own blood flowed along it. He focused his gaze on the laughing guard as he rose. “You will”—he grunted through his teeth—“regret ever touching my face.”

  The guard made a face puckering out his lips and crossing his eyes. “Aw, did I hurt the poor pretty boy’s face? I’m sorry.” He laughed, his lips curving into a demonic smile. “Oh, that’s gonna leave a scar. Too bad,” he mocked.

  Rage built up inside Leo. His hands wanted to rip the lips from the guard’s face. He wanted the pleasure of hurting him, but something inside told him not to, to keep his cool. His rage retreated as he breathed, thinking only of Lucia and of finding where she might be. She was nowhere in sight, and he already sensed the danger they were in. He clenched his eyes shut, imagining what they might be doing to her. He gathered his strength, focusing it into the depth of his chest, feeling his ambition overshadow his heart. His drive and his light was found there.

  “That’s right, get up,” bellowed another guard. He laughed before spitting in Leo’s face, stinging the cut on his cheek.

  Leo’s sapphire eyes were heated almost in a trancelike state, burning fiercely with an unspoken emotion. He didn’t blink as he wiped his face and looked blankly to the ground as the main guard forced him forward to the rusted cell door.

  “Move,” the guard demanded with a great push, knocking Leo to the ground.

  Leo took in a deep breath as he shoved himself up from the earth, his eyes still glistening but now almost a bright violet, fusing with the red of his anger. Something crossed his mind as he felt the hopelessness of the situation. The stench of this prison and its flickering lamps could only mean they were underground someplace. Leo had no way of telling where, but at least he knew he had to be deliberate with his actions if he ever hoped to escape. He was reminded of the cold that was approaching, and even so, he heard the faint whispers of what he needed to do coming from a distance, calling from somewhere. There was still hope, as long as he believed there was, as long as he remained in control.

  ***

  “How could he be so irrational? No logic could have come up with that conclusion. He must be running on nothing but fear.” Luzanna was pacing her room, talking to herself, trying to understand what had just happened. She touched her face, flinching at the cold of her fingers. “He’s”—she shut her eyes as she whispered—“never struck me before.”

  She looked up and into the light of the windows behind her bed. It was morning. The previous night had faded, and she now faced a new dilemma: preventing something far worse from coming in this night. She sensed its chill through her very armor, rattling with her body. She strode to the window, placed her hand on the glass, and looked out across her city. The grand kingdom, glorious and bright amid the sun’s reflection, shined like a mirror. Her eyes widened as she took notice of the many Carists below her, all entering the tower and pulling carts of materials of stone, glass, and metal out of it like ants from a demolished anthill.

  She looked away, shedding a tear as she remembered what she could from that night. The endless cold was agony, and the darkness was despair. It all had been true, and was foretold to only become much worse. She pulled her hand down and turned to her bed. On it lay her mask, artistically crafted and beautifully her own. She picked it up and observed it with her bright light eyes. Luzanna could hardly believe what her life had become so quickly, or bring herself to cope with and to understand why her father had taken to all this, or even more why he had threatened his own daughter. “What does he hope to accomplish?”

  In her studies to become chief elder herself one day, she had learned many of the myths and fables concerning the tides of the world. She knew of the forces that created it, and of the balance that was preserved over the landscape; but for her entire life it was as if she’d been groomed to believe only part of the story. She had never known the whole truth. Though there were archives she had access to, she felt there was more than what she knew. There was knowledge lost, pieces of the puzzle gone, maybe even to her father.

  “Does my father want to contaminate even that?” she asked herself, turning to the window. “Does he wish to disrupt that balance by destroying exactly what the light has bestowed upon this land in order to save it?” She looked back to her mask. “Does he want to shatter this world’s last hope and worsen the balance that has already been broken?” She collapsed on the bed, letting a mixture of rage and sadness overtake her. “Why, Father? Why must you envy the fate of the rest of the world and not accept your own? Why can’t you find hope in saving the world you’ll leave behind, and where’s your faith in me to lead? What hope is left for me or for your people when you think that selfishly?”

  Her father wanted to destroy the Light Wings, and Luzanna knew it was because of Stello’s warning. “The fall of an empire and the death of its king,” she whispered. In destroying the wings, he would defy his own fate and hopefully save himself. Luzanna knew this. And if she were to defy him, what would come from that? She could not bear to even think of it. Her whole life, he had loved her and showed such faith in her decisions, teaching her the power of spirit, of mind and body, of light and darkness. But these forces that revolved around them, bestowing them with what they knew as Terestria, had now gone rogue. And her father was not meant to survive.

  The pain in Luzanna’s hand stung violently again. She tightened her fist and rose, holding it close to her chest. She could tolerate it, but still it annoyed her. It seemed to worsen the more she doubted. “I can’t,” she cried. She looked to the mask and touched the ribbon in her blonde hair. She took a deep breath, grabbed the mask, and put it to her face. She knelt down
and pulled a case from beneath the bed. It was a long, rectangular wooden box made of glazed cypress, engraved with the symbols of the ancient language of the oldest Carist tribes. Slowly, as if she had never opened it before, she unlatched it and lifted its top. She looked down at the light crimson cloth. Then she picked up a small parchment and read the words written across it.

  To our fair daughter Luzanna,

  Our proud white dove, it brings us such joy to watch you grow. May this serve you well once you become chieftess. We hope you may never have to use it. Cherish it as a symbol of your wisdom as a scholar and strength as a warrior on this day of your sixteenth birthday.

  Your loving parents,

  Talon and Ofelia Renon

  With that, she tore open the crimson to reveal a long silver spear headed with wide blades. The head was encrusted with gems of blue and pink scaling along the sides. She rose and stood proudly with it by her side. She lowered her gaze. “You hoped I’d never have to use this, and so had I. But I must keep faith in the future and hope for a better world. I will defend my country even if it’s fated to be destroyed. I have the will to fight! And I’m sorry if it means I must strike you down—so be it.”

  She took the spear and, in a fury of speed, moved to her bedroom door. Luzanna had her own objective, something within her. She knew what she needed to do. A light burning in her heart told her that she had to join Lucia and Leo before the true threat could snake its way through her father’s own and stop his heart completely.

  ***

  Lucia was hardly breathing. A slight stream of air lifted up into her as she sat against the far wall of the cell. The Light Wings were draining more than they should from her body, but she noticed how her wounds from the fall, the cuts and punctures, all healed quickly underneath the tatters of her blouse. She did not know what to feel or think just yet. The thought still lingered, the one that came from the pendant around her neck. The faint whispers told her, “Hope.”

  “What can I do?” she whispered to herself, shamed by how she had failed so much. The darkness had trapped her here, probably knowing she would end up there all along. Was it not fated to be so? Lucia was trapped within this gray, flickering reality. The light above would flash every now and again, as if it was meant to burst any moment and send her into a void of an even more painful life force drain, possibly something fatal. Here, she could feel how the dark shadows thickened as it shifted from bright to dark in the cell. Sooner or later, the darkness would find her, and she would have to face it. Her fear deepened, sending her heart into its own darkness—the abyss of her doubts. Lucia was afraid she would be lost forever.

  She fixed her golden eyes on the dirt floor below. “Let me go,” she whispered, feeling the cold trail of tears dripping onto her cheek. She placed her hands over the pendant, sheltering her eyes from its glow. “There is no hope.” There was a hint of anger in her voice. She was tired of being told what to do. But most of all, she was tired of being told what to believe. “Do not forsake me,” she called out, her voice echoing around her. She looked into the air, hoping to hear an answer from somewhere, but instead there was silence. Instantly, she withdrew herself with a whimper, falling back against the wall. She heard a scrape of metal and the door across from her slowly opened.

  ***

  “Move, you imbecile,” they spat, pushing Leo with the hilts of large lances.

  Leo dragged his feet in front of them, keeping his head lowered as he walked down the corridor of the dungeon. Along its path of unsteady and flickering lamps were many cell doors. The shouts of prisoners, a mixture of criminals and lunatics, could be heard from outside. He wondered which one held Lucia, if she was even here. Leo was searching for a sign, any sign. He listened, hoping to hear the sound of her voice.

  “You walk so slow,” complained one of the guards behind him. “I wonder why this punk’s got the chief so scared. Him? A terrorist? Humph.” The guard nudged one of his comrades. “And to think this freak almost brought down the Glass Tower. But then again, what else could you expect from someone who’d commit patricide. You are truly the epitome of scum.” He pushed Leo again, pointing to the far door at the end. “Get in there now!”

  Leo growled under his breath, clenching his fist, but still understanding the accusations, pitying them for their ignorance.

  “You know, I overheard the chief say he was only an accomplice,” said the third guard. “The real terrorist is the Mozian girl. She was said to be holding some sort of powerful weapon.”

  The first guard laughed obnoxiously once more. “A girl? How pathetic.” He kicked the back of Leo’s leg, nearly sending him off his feet. Leo managed to take the blow without sacrificing his balance. “That girl probably has more balls than this kid ever will! His probably haven’t even dropped yet.”

  Leo’s face tightened as the guards laughed behind him. His eyes were hot as their laughing increased, echoing along the lengthy hallway for all to hear, drowning out any hope of hearing Lucia. The pit of his stomach burned and his hands shook. He somehow maintained the equilibrium within his body as he continued to move toward the door. I must preserve my strength.

  “Oh, but it’s a damn shame,” the guard said in disappointment. “That girl was the prettiest thing I ever did see. Her beauty alone should warrant a pardon. It’s a pity she has to die. But after all, she did set Pinea into a blaze with that weapon of hers. I heard the fire polluted the earth so much that it turned much of the ground to contaminated mush. Pinea’s nothing more than a toxic wasteland now, with land so poisonous it’s causing an uptick of incurable diseases. It’s filled with plague. Not that it wasn’t already. It did produce this brute.”

  “What?” Leo asked, and the guards stopped in surprise.

  “Well, well, well, the boy speaks,” said one of the guards before slapping Leo on the back.

  Leo could not fight back his words anymore. The line had been crossed. He had heard enough lies, enough of the assumptions. It was time they heard the truth. “Don’t touch me,” he said through his teeth. His canines sharp and ready to draw blood.

  “Oh, you think you have a say, do you?” The guard landed a blunt blow to Leo’s nose with the end of his spear, knocking him to the ground.

  “Do you think you can tell us what to do? You’re our prisoner, remember?” asked the largest of the three guards.

  He spat again into Leo’s face; but Leo had spent his time gaining back his energy, waiting for the right moment to strike. With ease, Leo grabbed the guard’s leg and pulled him under, tipping him onto the ground. The guard’s visor flew from his face and cracked against one of the cell doors. The other guards stood shocked for a moment before attempting to retaliate. They pulled their spears before them, but Leo rose up from under them, pushing upward and grabbing the center of one spear before tearing it from the guard. Using the shaft to balance himself, he knocked over the balding guard with the end of it. He pulled backward, focusing his strength as he sent a firm fist into the visor of the skinniest guard, cracking through the front of it and impacting him with a force strong enough to push his head back, causing it to hit the wall behind him, staining the wall with his blood. All three guards lay on the ground, struggling to find a weapon of their own, but Leo was far too swift and skilled when it came to the art of fighting. All of his training suited this very moment. He had put them in their place.

  “Who are you?” whispered a guard as he spat blood from his mouth.

  “I’m Leocadio Feral, noble sir of Pinea. I thought you knew,” Leo said proudly, panting as he wiped the sweat from his face. “Never would I allow my own country to be destroyed, nor would I do such a thing to yours! You should be ashamed of your ignorance. It has left you blinded from the truth.” It had never felt this good to be this honest. “For a bunch of Carists, you lot are awfully stupid.”

  “Lies,” bellowed the guards’ leader. “Believe the elder. He knows al
l.”

  “Your elder lies,” Leo roared, violently sending a swift kick to the guard’s face. “Pieces of shit. Do you really think you’re so fucking special disrespecting a high-born?” He knelt before the guards’ leader. He took the head of a spear and used it to cut open the guards’ cheek slowly, piercing through the skin. Quickly, he pulled it out. “Hurts doesn’t it?” Leo asked, throwing the spear against the wall as blood oozed from the guard’s face. “Fuck you,” Leo said, spitting in his face, feeling the rush of adrenaline pumping as he grinned, his eyes shining.

  “You’re a monster,” said the guard, wincing as his cheek moved. “Who would ever forgive you, after the things you’ve done. All this for a damn girl, you sadistic fuck.”

  Leo smirked, seeing a familiar silver glisten on the belt of the guard below him. He reached down and picked up his dagger. Leo felt pleasure in reuniting with his blade. He placed it on his fingers, feeling its edge. “Don’t test me. I know monsters. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.” Leo’s eyes spaced. “I’ve been fighting my whole life, training to protect my land and my people. From what I see, I was brought up better than any of you. I was taught to think for myself, but you? You’re too foolish to see that you are merely the elder’s cronies. You’re told what to believe and what to do, while he hoards the knowledge of what’s outside this city and our world all so you will remain loyal to him, all so only he can protect you from the real threat!

  “He promises you protection in exchange for your loyalty, using your fear and dependence against you, but look where it has you now—following orders to kill the very people trying to save you! That girl didn’t cause this destruction. She holds the key to stopping it. But if I had it my way, I’d say none of you are worth saving.” Leo knelt down, looking into the guard’s angered eyes before dropping the tip of his blade into the top of the guard’s left hand. The guard agonized as Leo twisted the tip with the dagger’s silver handle. He pulled his knife upwards, releasing a splatter of blood. The guard screamed as his hand curled.