“That’s Oren,” Alec introduced him. “An ally who can help our cause.”
Oren stood up and over the table stretched his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, trying to be respectful.
“Likewise boy,” Ermi replied and shook Oren’s hand. He braced himself for a tight hold but his was quite gentle and soft. “Aye, I remember ya.” He eyed him closer. “You used to live with that annoying girlboy!”
Oren let go of his hand. “That’s right,” he replied. “Efri and I lived two streets away from here.” He looked at Ermi closer. “I’m sure I’ve not seen you before.” A man of such massive stature would not escape his memory.
“Me uncle had some business with ya two. Transcribing some papers,” Ermi replied. “I remember his sayin’ how nice the girlboy’s face was.” He laughed, and Oren reluctantly did as well.
He sat down, barely able to fit his legs below the table. “I’ll tell ya. Since the imps took over I miss the look of a good piece of a woman. A whore with large tits, hair to her ass. All o’them walking ‘round now looking like boys still sucking their mum’s teet aren’t doing it for me.”
“The imps are perverted,” Alec joined in. “Together we will eradicate the damage they’ve done on our youth.”
Oren didn’t know what to think. What they spoke of was of no concern to him, he cared more for the hair on his legs than the way women look. This wasn’t what he expected the rebels to stand for. Yet it was not the time nor the place to defend her honor. He could do little against a man like Ermi.
Before Ermi could continue, two more men appeared in the door. One thin to the bone with scattered long hair going down to almost half his back and the other strangely ordinary given the company, youngest one surely not much older than Oren himself.
“Nori, Alen,” Alec said with what almost felt like fatherly love in his voice. “It’s been far too long.”
The younger one approached him. “Likewise. Too long, we have sat in the shadows,” he said in a poeticism similar to Alec’s own.
“Right,” the other agreed. “Alen is right. Time to act is now.”
“Worry not,” said Alec. “We shall enact our plan sooner than you think.”
Alen looked at him distrustfully. “Better be.” His gaze averted from Alec and now sat upon Oren. “What’s a child doing here?”
“I’m Oren,” he said loudly before Alec could let out a word. “I would like to say it is nice to meet you, but we both know that not to be true.”
A moment of dread silence took over the room. Alec looked at him, asking to know why with just his bulging eyes. On Alen’s face grew an ever-increasing frown before he sat down. “Quite right,” he finally replied.
A welcome disruption was Nori bursting out laughing. “I am sorry,” he said to Oren. “My younger brother ain’t got the manners yet.” He stretched out his hand. “Name’s Nori, and it truly is nice to meet you.”
With a smile, Oren shook the slender man’s hand. “Likewise,” he said.
“Come on, Alen, don’t be rude,” said Alen pushing his companion forward.
From up close, the man looked even thinner than from afar, as if the golden pox returned ready to take him. “Pleased to meet you,” he whispered.
“Let us begin,” said Alec and shouted for Irpen, who ran in, closing the door behind him and sat beside Oren.
“Too long have we postponed this meeting,” Alec began. First, he told them of Vikar’s capture and the unknown mage who freed him. The others listened, neither one daring to even as much as a whisper.
When he finally explained his escape, their eyes turned to Oren. “We do not yet know the nature of the green gem,” Alec said. “For now, it shall remain it Oren’s possession. I have doubts as to its effectiveness in the hands of others.” Little did that satisfy them, but Alec could at least continue.
“Thanks to Irpen’s help, we acquired three sets of imperial armor. As it happens, Oren here does not know the full extent of our plan. Before we continue, I must ask - will you help us win freedom for Beria? If not, you are allowed to leave.”
This was it, why Alec waited. He could have asked him dozens of times before but did not. The others now knew what he looked like, surely they would not allow him to leave so easily or without consequences. Seeing the anger in their eyes, even in ever calm Irpen’s, he knew there was no choice.
He laughed. “Do you truly have to ask? I killed to get us here! I would give up my life to free Beria.”
They all cheered. “That is what I like to hear!” Alec said. “Our plan is quite simple. We have three sets of armor, one of a higher ranking lieutenant and two-foot soldiers. We pretend to be an inspection and stirrup chaos in the market. The guards here do not use magic and wouldn’t dare to interfere.”
Alec was thorough in his explanation, going over every minute detail. Finally, by the end, he suggested that they use the potion Oren got from Ceril after it is checked by some of Alec’s secret contacts.
He opposed at first, especially to him being one of the three dressed as imperial soldiers, but quickly realized the chaos would be the best time for him to escape and so he agreed.
Pleased, Alec continued, “Right as chaos reaches its peak, we direct people to where the guards are stationed, give them a taste of blood.”
“The store that opened,” Irpen interrupted him, “right across the square here. Direct them there first. They’ll be more prepared for a fight with the guards. The little redhaired bitch deserves a few good men showing her the ropes.” The innkeeper licked his upper lip and shifted on the chair.
The others agreed, and Oren, whose stomach turned upside down, hearing Irpen’s comments, decided not to voice his opinion. With that their plan was decided - Alec would be the one to lead them as he was the eldest and would fit the role of a senior officer the best. Oren and Alen would be the two soldiers.
They’d set out beyond the view of the guard towers four days from then, during a night when the moon shines the weakest. After sunrise, they’d ride in, hopefully arriving around mid-day, setting their plan in motion.
A Fallen Angel
With men behind his back, Ri’on ran through the open streets of the Cry, dodging the occasional cart pushing scrap. He wished to scream, to announce to the entire city what he just learned. Sesteria, the place of their salvation, is real; he knew far too well he’d be giving his kinsmen a death sentence, so kept quiet.
Then, before he could reach the front gate, arrows came flying, and more guards appeared, coming from every nook and cranny. He turned left, right, and left again in an attempt to avoid the swarm of soldiers.
Soon he was surrounded by steel. There was no escape, no chance of winning a fight, not against hundreds of trained men.
No. He would not give up. A spark in his eye lit up, and the ground below his feet shook; his power propelled him up.
He landed on the roof of a nearby building. From there, he saw the city crawling full of men in heavy armor, all ready to take his life. It was now or never. With the future of his kin at stake, he let go of the reins that steered the magic within him.
Around his wrists appeared shackles, burning runes into his skin, and then, as if someone held him on a string, it pulled him up high towards the sky. He tore through the leather curtain, shielding the city from the eternal light.
Like an eagle, he flew through the sky, the wind his ally not his enemy. Below him, the soldiers and half the city were blinded by the light springing in through the hole he created. A perfect time to escape.
Able to see miles ahead all across the wasteland, he saw a sparkle, the light shimmering on a ground made of water. The shattered shore was near! Not too far from Cry, but not too close either, was a small village. That became his destination.
He closed his fist, commanding his power to send him there. The wind grew stronger, pushing him forward, and soon, it gained a downward slant.
Too quick was his descent, he realized so when it was far
too late. He closed his eyes and shielded his chest as he crashed into a dune of sand, not even a mile away from the village.
“Ey’ mister?” a voice woke him. He gasped for air, coughing out the sand that made it into his mouth. Heavily breathing, his body hurting, he looked at the source of the voice. A boy. A young, very young boy stood before him, holding a bucket with a small spade, his gaze confused and mouth open. “Are you an angel?” Out of all the questions he could have, that was the one Ri’on expected not at all.
With pain in his back, he stood up. “An angel?” he questioned.
“Momma always said an angel would fall from the sky one day.” The boy looked up into the light. “She said that angels don’t know what is happening here, that the light blinded them. Did ya come to save us?”
Ri’on smiled, unsure what to say. “I’m no angel.” The boy’s smile turned sour, and a tear appeared in his eye.
It was the boy’s eyes, glowing with a slight golden light, the pupil shattered, which made Ri’on’s heart sink the lowest. Those were the consequence of living under the naked sky. “I thought as much,” the boy said with a chuckle. “Angels forgot about us a long time ago. We don’t matter.”
What could he say to dull the boy’s pain? No words existed in all the languages of the world that could stop his suffering. “Can you show me which way to the shore?” Ri’on asked. It brought him no joy to ignore him, but it was the kindest thing he could do.
The boy nodded and smiled. “Through our farm and then that way,” he pointed to where Ri’on saw the sea before. “If you go this way, you’ll come across one of the shore towns. It ain’t too far, and to tell you the truth, mister, it’s better to avoid the road.” His expression fell again.
“Thank you.” He petted the boy’s hair. They were hot, his head so warm one would think him sick. “Mind if I stay for a while?”
The boy jumped up and cheered. “Not at all!
Ri’on knew what it meant, the boy wasn’t sick, not really; it was the Light’s Curse. First, the eyes shattered, then fever takes them over, and finally, their sight is lost forever. Most have good fifteen years but some far less. The boy’s ability to see would be gone come evening.
While leading Ri’on to the village, which looked more like a single farmstead, the boy introduced himself as Axi. He also told him of his family, his best friend, and the few other residents of the village. Ri’on wondered just how they survived and where they came from. Not often, one would see people willingly live under the sky.
The village had no name, the four buildings were run down, barely standing. Their communal area had no cover over it, forcing them to be either inside or under the light.
Ri’on noticed some crops growing around, but too little even for an already small group of people. He counted, with Axi, there were thirteen people there.
All were gathered in the center, tools still in their dirty and cracked hands. Axi’s parents were children, they looked a little older than he. The eldest person there could have not been a day older than sixteen.
“Look!” Axi shouted as he and Ri’on came before the group. “It was a man, I told you.”
They all gasped, some prepared their tools for defense. “Who are you?” the eldest shouted. “Axi, come here.”
“My name’s Ri’on.” He raised his hands, showing them he held no weapons. “I am a friend. Do not worry, I mean, you no harm.” The kids put their tools down. “Are you his parents?” he asked them, his heart sinking ever deeper as the girl nodded. “Who’s the father?” His worst fear came true. She pointed behind him, in the direction of Cry.
“I am. Us all are a family,” said the boy beside her. “Axi is my son as much as these are my brothers and sisters.”
Ri’on had no words to say to them. How could he dare try to offer comfort to those that hurt so bad? What right did he have to even give them hope before they succumb to the light’s eternal wrath? Soon Axi would be without his sight; the others were surely not far behind, his parents especially.
“He fell from the sky,” he heard a young girl behind the group whisper. “An angel.”
“Is it true?” Axi’s father asked. “Are you an angel? Did you come to help us?”
“No, he is not!” Axi shouted. “He told me so himself.” Proudly he puffed his chest. “Why would an angel crash into the sand! They can fly proper.”
“Yes, yes, he is!” someone shouted over him. “He looks just like one. Look into his eyes, they’re blue just as grandma used to say.”
“You’re right!” Axi shouted. “Did you lie to me, mister?” The boy was angry, but Ri’on couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, seeing his puffy cheeks.
“What did your grandmother tell you?” he then inquired, crouching to hear them better.
“See!” the girl shouted. “Eyes blue like the sky and a smile of bitter strife.” They all shouted in excitement, demanding to know just how is he going to save them? Why other angels have not come.
With that smile, just as the girl described, he sat down into the hot sand. “Want to hear a story? About where I truly come from.”
All at the same time plopped their bottoms into half-a-circle around him. “Yes, yes!” they all shouted. “Tell us, please!”
“Alright, be quiet and listen carefully,” he said, recalling the past, by many long forgotten.
“Thousands of years before the light came, there was a city far in the east, the capital of a great nation. That city was called Li’Ari, named after its people, the children of the skies, and it was beautiful, just like their lands, villages, and towns. The people lived happily, prosperously, one with nature. They waged no wars; peace ruled the land.
“But then came a man. His body barren, he appeared before the city gates. His eyes were scarlet like blood, but they did not notice. With kindness in their hearts, the people let him, and he begged them to teach him their secrets, to make him one of their own. They did, they loved him and gave him all he asked, but in the end, he showed them who he truly was.
“He stole the sky’s very heart and ran with it all the way to the west. There he locked it away in a strong chest, and the key hid away in his own blood.
“Many times the people of Li’Ari asked him to return it, to give it back but he refused and to stop them from asking ever again he defiled it. Corrupted it with impurity. Then he used it to split the world. As an insult, a joke, he took away the azure sky and replaced it with his light of scarlet and gold.”
“Who was that?” Axi asked. “I never heard of him.” Others were quick to shout, demanding he keeps quiet.
Ri’on waved his hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “That man never told the people of Li’Ari his name. Not until hundreds of years later, they heard it echo across the world. He was not powerless; he was the heir of the phoenix - Vi Dera.
“Today his children still walk the earth, far in the west in a city of crimson and gold. They know naught of the truth, and still, they keep the sky’s heart to them, not knowing the power it truly holds, for no one ever opened that secret chest.”
“Why?” one of the children asked. “Can’t we ask them to give it back?”
Ri’on smiled. “We can ask them but who knows if they will agree to give it to us? I believe if we tell them the truth they will show us compassion. That’s what I am planning to do. The key to that chest is still in the blood of the bad man’s children. I will sail west across the Crimson Sea and steal it if they refuse to give it up willingly.” He winked. “Then, I shall return and bring back the sky and the night. You must, however, remember that it was all based on what that one evil man did. His people, his family, they did not know, or so I believe.”
They all cheered, shouted his name, and, just as he expected, demanded another story. Much he remembered, little of it appropriate, but obscuring some facts, he continued telling stories, enjoying the moment.
While speaking, his mouth drier with every word, he noticed the smiles and the laughs. Axi
was the one who sat the closest and watched him with love in his shattered eyes.
Four stories later and evening time coming, the oldest kids suggested to go inside. Before they got inside, Axi jumped up, screaming, tears rushing into his eyes. “They are coming! They are coming!” He pointed east.
Quicker than ants, the kids dispersed. “Hide Ri’on!” one of them shouted. “If they see you, we’ll be all dead.”
When he finally managed to get a good look, he saw them, far in the distance, dozens of riders. There was no doubt, they rode from Cry. Even from so far away, he saw their armor shining in the light, surely blinding those that rode beside them. He sighed, and with the utmost haste, he searched for a place where to hide.
At first, he considered leaving, but they would see him running. Minutes later, he found a safe hiding spot beside one of the houses, a small empty wooden box. It smelled horrible, making him wonder what its intended purpose was.
Crouched there, he waited, looking out through a small crack. Soon enough, the sound came. The shouting of the riders ordering their steeds to be quicker. They arrived at the small communal area.
One over the other, they screamed and ran around. Soon came the sound he most wished not to hear - the screaming of the children. They cried so loud, their thin high voices like blades to one’s ears.
“Where is he?” shouted one of the Cry soldiers. He threw Axi’s mother to the ground.
“Who?” she shouted, lying in the sand. “There’s nobody here but us! You know that people don’t come here often.”
The soldier kicked her stomach. “The scrap! Don’t act like you don’t know, bitch.”
“Nobody was here!” someone else shouted. “Let us be!”
“Fine!” After the soldier knelt beside the young girl and whispered something in her ear, the others dragged them all out. “As you wish!” he loudly announced, his arms spread out. “You half-scraps deserve nothing better anyway.” He laughed.
They all started tearing the kids’ clothes off, their intentions as plain as day.
Tear of Light Page 13
