Tear of Light

by Michael Edward Tenner

  One soldier dragged out Axi, the boy was almost fully naked. “Stop, please!” he shouted, but the soldier didn’t listen. “I’ll tell you where he went.”

  They stopped, and the leader walked over to him. “Good boy. Speak.”

  “Asked us where the shore is and how to get there the quickest. He then walked away, didn’t even thank us.” His entire body shook, and his eyes were full of tears. “If you’re quick enough, you can still catch him, I bet.”

  Laughter then came. “Smart.” He petted Axi’s head. “No way to know if you’re lying or not, is there?” First, he touched his cleanly shaved chin and then snapped his fingers. “I know,” he announced happily.

  Then came a command, “Kill them,” he said. The words echoed in Ri’on head. The children screamed, “You promised!” cried and wished to be let alone.

  So many times has Ri’on heard those same exact words before, more than he wished to admit. Yet back then, during his time in the far east, often he was the one wielding the blade, the one in power, the one taking lives. Then came the ringing of swords being drawn, the children screaming even louder.

  A failure, that’s what he was. All he could do was to tell stories, but in the end, more would die because of him.

  “Captain,” another soldier called out. “Can’t we have fun before? Got all excited.” He laughed, and so did the captain.

  “You can fuck some scraps back home, we gotta catch that fucker first.”

  The soldier sighed.

  Unwilling to watch Ri’on rose from the box, his eyes sparkling with azure. This could be his own end, he knew that well, the power held by his tunic was not infinite, but if he were to be the one that saves his people from perpetuity of servitude, then he could not watch children be slaughtered.

  “Let them go!” His voice shook the ground. The soldiers looked at him. “Not one of your gods will save you if you do that.”

  The largest man of them, the commander, shouted, amused, “There’re no gods.” He laughed and drove his blade deep into the neck of one of the kids, Axi’s older brother.

  “Run angel,” the kids shouted.

  Time stopped just then. All the soldiers, with no exceptions, were doing as their leader - killing innocent children. It wasn’t meant to happen, Ri’on decided to save them, he couldn’t fail!

  Panicked, he searched, looked around for one that was too slow, one that he could still stop. There were a few, their blades too slow.

  Ri’on knees began to shake, and he almost fell, but in that moment of desperation, he felt more powerful than ever before. Tears shining in azure rushed to his eyes, and he screamed as loud as he could. The world shook even stronger; the sand rose up in the air around him. With his eyes, shimmering in azure, he looked at them, breaking every bone in their body, causing them immense pain. It was a beautiful, chaotic song to hear.

  When the light left his eyes, he looked around. Most were dead. The soldiers all but only four kids remained. Axi, his father, and two others. Bundled up, they ran to him. “Are you alright?” the father asked.

  “I am sorry,” he whispered, barely keeping his tears in check. “This all happened because of me.”

  “You’re silly,” the other boy replied. “Not for the first time death came upon us. We always survived.”

  “Why are you here?” he asked bluntly. “The shore is not far away.”

  They all smiled. “We’re not like you,” said Axi, “our true parents were like you. Azure of eyes.”

  “Children of a human and a scrap?”

  They nodded. “Too human to be slaves and die, too much of a scrap to live normal lives.”

  Ri’on tried to convince them to go with him, assuring them no harm would ever come to them, but they refused. The light had little effect on them, just as it did on all of his kin. Their azure eyes shielded from the light’s curse.

  He, in turn, refused to leave without help. First, they dug graves for the fallen and paid them their respects. Second, they gathered the bodies of the soldiers, took their armor and weapons. Ri’on made them promise to sell them in the markets at one of the shore towns. Exchange for food and drink. He wondered where they got water from before, it turned out below one of the houses was a tunnel that led down into a cave.

  Iolin, as Axi’s father introduced himself, told him of dozens of others hidden down there. It made Ri’on heart ache slightly less, knowing there was still hope for them.

  After declining an invitation to see the others, he departed, heading west, to a town and then, if all goes according to plan, to Sesteria.

  Shattered Light

  Walking through the corridor leading to the stairs, Morael shouted at A'stri and Efri telling them to stay close, right behind his back for he couldn’t protect them for afar. They followed mere steps behind him, and so did his weapon the Vanquisher. The spear hovered beside him. It indeed was a beautiful weapon, its creation of his proudest achievement.

  Downstairs, by the most central table, sat a woman and two other men.

  “And from the sky flew a bird of crimson and gold, his claws ready to strike.” The woman’s voice was terrible, echoing even in the small tavern.

  “When the prey asks to be hunted, the predator heeds its call.”

  The woman laughed. “Good, very good!” She clapped and then turned to the two men sitting with her. “Now, sadly, our fun is over. I don’t need you anymore, little Morael here will entertain me for some time.”

  “Forgive me!” suddenly screamed the two men sitting beside her. With their eyes closed shut they fell onto the dirty floor. “I have a wife and a son,” one whispered.

  “Three kids, all alone,” added the other.

  Then, both opened their eyes, black as the darkest night. Morael’s heart stopped for a split second seeing the ancient evil within them. He stretched out his arm, sending a ray of crimson-gold light towards the men, attempting to purify the darkness.

  Yet his light would be extinguished by a dark shadow lingering around them, one that would not permit the light to break through. “What?” Morael whispered, shocked. “This is impossible.”

  Suddenly the men began to scream, fighting with their own bodies. Resistance was futile; the dark magic controlled them. They began clawing out their own eyes.

  “Do something!” Efri screamed at him. “Aren’t you a prince?”

  Morael closed his fist, she was right; he struck towards one of the men. Not even it was able to push through the shadow. “I can’t,” he whispered, clenching his teeth, his voice shaking.

  With the men’s continued agony, Morael snapped his fingers, commanding the spear to him. It appeared like a bolt of lightning.

  He struck through the shadow shattering the shell it created around them and buried it deep in their heads.

  “Whoever you are, I promise you that your heart is next,” he said full of anger as the lifeless bodies fell on the ground turning to dust. “I will kill you.”

  “You are a child,” the woman replied. “A child born in the shadows of greater men. Your wings may be the fanciest, but we both know they are only for show, a way to antagonize enemies, scare them away.”

  “So many words, and so many lies. You know nothing about me.” Morael stood tall, looking her right in the eyes.

  She smiled and stretched her neck. “You are all the same, thick-headed bastards, but even still, I know you quite well, Morael. Have you said your goodbyes? It’s about time.”

  “Who are you?” His voice was without a hint of fear, yet within he was scared like never before. “Just answer me this simple question.”

  “My name is of no importance. It is my cause you wish to know. I come from a land far away. Not even your light can shine that far.”

  Morael sighed. “We are done.” He stretched out his arm, and Vanquisher flew to him; he grabbed it. The woman seemed unbothered, but he felt her dark magic at work.

  Behind him appeared a blade, conjured from shadow itself. Efri and A's
tri shouted at him, but all he did was a smirk. He turned around and with his barren hand shining golden light caught the blade. “Light always perishes the darkness. Your magic cannot touch me.” He smiled. With the blade still in his hand, he turned to face the woman. “I am Moraael Vi Dera, I am the light’s greatest champion.” The light from his hand began to grow in strength until the dark blade began to shatter. The pieces fell to the ground.

  “I am not afraid of you.” The woman stood up. “If I am to die fighting you, Vi Dera, then I will.” Her voice was calm as the sea before a storm.

  “You could always tell me what is it you want. Worse conflicts were avoided by debate.”

  “Scared?”

  He shook his head. “Just hopeful.” With a wave of his hand, Vanquisher flew forth, quicker than before. Yet the woman disappeared in a puff of violet smoke. “Who’s afraid now?” he loudly shouted the rhetorical question, but no response came. The woman was gone.

  For at least half an hour, they waited, Morael prepared for a fight, but the woman never returned, no attack came.

  Decided to leave for Istra, as soon as possible, they packed the little they had. As they were about to set out of the tavern, the door burst open. In came four soldiers, wearing the sigil of Istra’s lion on their chest plate. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they shouted and knelt.

  “Stand,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

  “We have heard of some trouble in the tavern. Knowing you are here, we hurried as quickly as possible,” replied one of the soldiers, a man with a scar across his left eye. His words sounded truthful, yet something was amiss a strange tension floated in the air.

  Then one of the soldiers, a woman with little hair and scarred but youthful face, walked before Morael. “What is it?” he asked.

  The soldier bowed. “I apologize, Your Majesty, but the woman you are with. The one with gree hair,” she began to speak. “She’s a sought after criminal from Ilster, for the past weeks, we have been searching for her.”

  Morael eyed the soldier, inspecting her armor from afar. “She is in my custody now,” he replied resolutely. The soldier’s face showed just what was on his mind. “Do you have an issue with that?” he bluntly asked with a mocking smile.

  “I do not,” the soldier replied. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

  Seeing A'stri and Efri afraid, he made a decision. “We are leaving,” he said. “Stay here, monitor the town. Do not let anyone inside for at least a day.”

  “Your Majesty, I must advise against this,” the male soldier said. “It’d be folly to travel alone, you and two vulnerable wom—,” he cut off seeing Morael’s anger.

  With an exasperated sigh, the prince replied, “I made up my mind.” He turned his back on them. “Let’s go,” he said to his companions, who both replied with a joyful smile.

  “Your Majesty,” the soldier spoke up. “The horses are gone, we found them dead. “There are stables just a corner from here, I’ve heard that they have a few for sale,” said the soldier with a malcontent tone in his voice.

  For the first time angered by insubordinate soldiers, he shouted, “Leave.” They all did as he commanded.

  They set out for the nearby stables right away. Natind was smaller than the cities Morael was used to, it had no high towers, but it had a certain charm, like the smell of grass, so common and boring yet still beautiful. The commotion on the streets, the children running around; it was nothing like Sesteria, where even chaos had an order. The people were loud, vulgar, and yet nobody cared, no demeaning looks have befallen them, nor a complaint from a wealthy merchant reached the ears of the guards.

  Turning a corner, they heard a loud shout. “I will smite you!” it cheerfully said. It was a voice of a young boy, playing with a couple of his friends.

  “Not a chance!” replied his opponent, a girl keenly similar to Efri. “I shall bring light on you!” The two made pretend sounds of spells and jumped around to avoid the incoming attacks, and while doing so, the boy slipped and fell. “I win!” the girl announced, standing above him, laughing.

  “It’s only because I slipped!” the boy retorted as the others laughed, seeing his dirt-covered face.

  “Another attacker!” the girl yelled, pointing at Morael. “You! Stand, or we’ll smite you!”

  Morael laughed. “I wish not to fight!” he yelled out, faking desperation. “Grant me this passage, I beg you!”

  The boy jumped up and took charge right away. “Cheap it shan’t be,” he announced with a smirk. “Is there something you can offer us, trespasser?”

  Morael smiled and made a few steps towards them. “I could give you money,” he said, “or I can show you a real proper spell. What do you think?”

  “Like you know spells!” said the boy laughing. This time he was scolded by his friends, and a whispered argument erupted between them, discussing which is better.

  Years Morael spent traveling all throughout the Empire and yet he still could not get used to magicless people. Most never learned any, relied on others in their village. Yet it was so simple.

  Finally, the girl came out victorious. “What spell?” she asked.

  “Kairi,” he whispered. His eyes glowed and, in his hand, appeared a small ball of golden-white light. The children all watched in amazement, even the boy who argued against it was stunned. “It’s the sesterian word for light,” Morael explained. “Even in the darkest shadow, you’d not have to be afraid.”

  “Can you teach us?” the girl asked. “One spell!”

  “That wasn’t the deal. What do I get for all this?”

  “Anything!” the children were quick to reply.

  He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Very well. I have little time, so I make no promises. Magic takes time to study.” The children agreed, and so Morael began to explain; it allowed his mind to rest, to let go of what just happened, even if for the briefest of moments.

  “Now, to cast it, you must visualize, imagine light destroying shadow in your mind and then say the word. Your will must be unbreakable; otherwise, you’ll fail,” he explained. “Try it.”

  All except the girl and the boy began yelling the word at the top of their lungs, with no focus, no care. Some created a small glowing pinhead of light, but most failed at creating anything.

  The two however, closed their eyes, their breathing slowed down just as Morael said. “Kairi,” they both said, and before each of them, appeared a ball of light just like the one Morael himself conjured just a minute ago.

  A cold breeze ran across him. It was rare to see someone so young conjure their first spell with such little effort. “Listen to me,” he uttered silently and crouched beside them. “You two are talented. That’s for sure.”

  They laughed. “You think?” Another laugh followed. “We can’t match the Isterians,” the girl said.

  “With hard work all is possible,” Morael said, then flicked his fingers. Before them appeared two golden pendants in the shape of a phoenix. “These are no ordinary pendants. From this point on, they are bound to you. If you ever wish to study in Istra, present them to an officer in the academy. They will not deny you.”

  “You serious?” the boy yelled out and grabbed the pendant from the air. “It’s gold!”

  The girl did the same. “Thank you,” she said, her watery eyes mirroring the shining sun.

  “Time for me to go,” he said, bidding them farewell.

  They waved and shouted their goodbyes, but before he could leave one more question. “What’s your name?” the boy shouted.

  “Morael Vi Dera.” The shouting stopped, and the kids froze in place. Morael grinned, ear to ear, as he left in the direction of the stables.

  Laughing at what just happened, they arrived at the stables. They were small, right beside someone’s house. Even though they were a comforting sight. One of the things that doesn’t change, the smell of droppings, it is the same for royal and common horses.

  They approached a young man with a
head full of curly black hair cleaning one of the horses. A beautiful white Etrinian, a rarity in those parts. The man did not notice them; instead, he whispered something in the horse’s ear. Only Morael fake cough managed to grab his attention.

  “Want something?” the boy spat his words, not looking away from the horse.

  Morael smiled and asked, “Are you the owner?” He hoped that the boy is not. Better than any Morael knew genuine affection cannot be bought, and the man’s eyes were so full of love for the magnificent steed.

  “My father is,” he retorted. “Dad! Someone’s asking for you.” He gave Morael one more piercing ugly look before turning to caress the horse further. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered to it.

  From the back came an old man with a bushy beard and head start to lack in hair. “Can I help ya folks?” he asked.

  “We’re in need of three horses,” Morael said, observing the man’s reaction.

  His fears came true as the man rolled his eyes and loudly sighed before replying, “Got seven horses in the stable, and this one that came to us by chance about a month ago. He’s a child of the south. I can sell two from the back, the rest are reserved and then this one, but the price’s high.”

  “No price is really high enough,” Morael replied and pulled a single coin from his coat. It was made of Inesteri, a metal found only in the mountains north of Sesteria. The coin, able to split in five, glowed with cyan light.

  The owner looked at it with more surprise in his eyes than that of the children from before. “Take any horses you want. The Etrinian and the two Isterians over there.” He pointed at equally beautiful brown horses walking around the stables.

  “Not him,” the curl-haired boy yelled out. “He’s mine!”

  “Nonsense! I have told you before the horse is for sale and for you.”

  The boy looked at his father with anger. He wished not to part with the horse if given a chance. Morael himself was fond of horses, his own is called Inearme, The Fire of the World in Ancient Sesterian. He was darker than the night’s sky and faster than any other.