The Sun Guardian

by T. S. Cleveland

  “Trying to get me naked? All you have to do is ask,” was Scorch’s automatic response, which he immediately regretted. “I mean,” he huffed awkwardly, “w-why do you need my shirts?” He pressed his hand protectively over his satchel, feeling the lump of brand new clothes he’d purchased only a week prior.

  Vivid didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and waited. It didn’t take long to crumple beneath that indifference. Scorch succumbed haughtily, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his collection of clean linen shirts. He handed them to Vivid, who fingered the fabric, stretching it and holding it up to the sky before he ripped one down the middle.

  “Hey!” cried Scorch. He hadn’t even gotten to wear the blue one yet.

  Vivid rolled his eyes at Scorch’s distress and ripped another, placing the shreds of cloth across the body of the raft and stepping back to inspect them. He ripped the third and final shirt and added it to his collection, but a miniscule frown still bothered his lips. He whipped his head around and stared at Scorch so hard that Scorch’s palms began to sweat.

  “Will you take off that shirt?” Vivid asked casually.

  Crassness built swiftly on Scorch’s tongue, but he dared not speak it. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing his arms, tugging a restless hand through his hair.

  Vivid scowled. “You said all I had to do was ask. Give me your shirt.”

  Scorch felt a compulsion to mention that Kio and Julian both had clothes, too, which certainly looked capable of ripping, but he kept his mouth shut and removed his jerkin. His shoulder throbbed a bit when he lifted the leather piece over his head, and his grunt of pain echoed in the quiet of the trees. Kio held the jerkin while Scorch stripped the undershirt from his back. It was damp with sweat, but when Vivid held out his hand, Scorch handed it over.

  Vivid ripped it up and set it with the others before giving Kio his full attention. Scorch was mildly offended that Vivid didn’t give his bare chest even the most fleeting of once-overs.

  “You have needles?” asked Vivid.

  Kio gave Scorch back his jerkin and began to dig through her pack. She handed him the flint and asked him to light a fire. He hurried to torch one of their leftover branches and held it over their heads while Vivid and Kio bent over the ripped shirts. They were making a sail. It was logical, he supposed, but he still lamented the loss of his clothes. At least, he thought to himself, Vivid hadn’t demanded his underclothes, as well.

  Once the sewing was done, Vivid rigged the patchwork sail to the final tree limb and secured it to the raft with the last of the roots.

  “Lovely,” Scorch said. “I’ve always wanted to build a boat in the middle of a forest. It’s so useful here, so majestic, the way it floats on the underbrush.”

  Julian snorted, apparently in the upswing of a good mood. Scorch preferred it to his religious-ranting mood and his trembling-victim mood.

  When no one spoke, Scorch continued. “Was building the raft supposed to be the serene part of the test? Because I don’t feel serene, just really sore, from, you know, cutting down trees with a sword.” He could practically hear Vivid’s eyebrow twitch.

  “The test begins when we leave the safety of the trees,” Vivid said with a threatening lilt in his voice that made the hair stand up on Scorch’s bare arms. “There must be utter silence as we approach the lake, while we are on the lake, and as long as we remain on the shore of the opposite bank.” He glared at Scorch as he spoke. “Do not speak, do not cough, do not splash the water. We set the raft down gently and let the sail guide us across in silence. Absolute silence. If you make a sound, we die.”

  Kio, Julian, and Scorch all stared, standing with a touch of shock at the harsh warning. Scorch eyed Vivid’s hands. His fingers were caressing the wrists of his sleeves, where his twin daggers dwelled.

  “Absolute silence,” Vivid repeated gravely. “I will not die because of you.” He waited for nods of agreement, and once he received them, he moved for an edge of the raft.

  Scorch snuffed out their fire and hurried to the opposing corner of the raft, while Kio and Julian took up the back. Together, they lifted, heaving the weight onto their shoulders. Scorch was taller than Vivid by a good seven inches, and the raft’s weight tilted back and forth between them as Scorch tried to lower his side and Vivid tried to lift his higher. The struggle remained a voiceless argument between them as they made their way through the winding trees. They were all breathing too hard beneath the weight of the raft to converse, but right before they stepped through the final row of trees and onto the bank, Vivid delivered unto their party a final reminder: “Quiet.” Then they stepped onto the shore.

  The moon was waxing and meager in the sky, but Scorch could still make out the vague glitter of rippling water as the lake lapped against the bank. In a way, he was thankful for the darkness, not overly eager to see the vastness of the water they were about to cross.

  Vivid led them to the edge, and the others copied his motions of bending to one knee and slowly, carefully, placing the raft on the dewy grass of the bank. The slope was slight and slick with mud, and as they positioned their bodies onto the raft, it slipped into the water with little more than a slap of sound. Vivid touched Scorch’s shoulder, snaring his attention, and they set to work spreading and fastening the sail, until it stretched wide across their tiny raft. Scorch’s repurposed shirts caught the wind with gusto and coaxed them from the bank.

  For a while, fortune favored them. The wind was strong and easterly and the raft floated with surprising speed across the lake’s black surface. Kio and Julian sat on one side of the raft, and, to evenly distribute the weight, Scorch was stuck sitting next to Vivid on the other side. The space was so limited, he couldn’t keep his long legs from brushing against Vivid’s thigh, but—much to Scorch’s amusement—Vivid could say nothing about it.

  They sailed through the darkest hours of the night, Vivid steering them, and the only noise was the soft rhythm of water brushing against the wood of the raft. Scorch watched the sliver of moon cross the sky and tried to keep track of the time. Hours inched by, but no one tried to sleep. Everyone stayed stiff with alertness. No one spoke. No one breathed loudly enough to be heard. They were the perfect picture of silence, and as the sun finally began to rise, Scorch did feel serenity coursing through him. It calmed him, watching the sky leisurely fill with the scarlet and gold light of dawn, while the water glimmered with pinks and oranges. Soon, he could make out the opposite shore, but it was hazy and blurred.

  The wind maintained its strength and continued to push them steadily forward. Scorch was loath to imagine the length of such a journey with no favorable breeze. He thought of what might have happened if circumstances had led him to cross the lake on his own. He probably would have lacked the foresight of a sail, and he certainly would have made noise, not that he knew the penalty yet of such a discrepancy. Hardly for the first time since leaving land, Scorch turned his eyes to Vivid, but the other man was distracted by something, his focus zeroed in on the water, so Scorch looked at the water, too.

  A shadow passed beneath their raft and Scorch glanced up at the sky to check for rainclouds. He saw only clear, pink sky melting into blue. There were no clouds. He looked back down at the water, waiting for another shadow but seeing none. When he returned his gaze to Vivid, Vivid was watching him. The flash of warning in his eyes told Scorch that he had seen the shadow, as well.

  Scorch swallowed down the anxiety forming in his chest, but now that he’d opened his mind to it, dark thoughts began to swarm his imagination. He felt a not entirely irrational fear that the raft would burst into flames, and he almost dipped his fingers into the water to cool them before he remembered Vivid’s warning. He sucked in a large inhale of cool air and raided his surroundings frantically for something to distract him, settling on the slender knuckles of Vivid’s fingers as they tapped silently against his leather-clad knee. Tap, tap, tap they went, long and powder-white. Tap, tap, tap. Scorch concentrated
on those fingers and kept breathing in and out. He did not look at the water or the distance to the opposite shore, just those fingers tap, tap, tapping. Relentless and elegant and ceaselessly distracting.

  When Scorch had regained a sense of calmness, he spared a look at the others. Kio was sitting peacefully, her legs crossed and her eyes heavily lidded. She was meditating, Scorch decided. Then he looked at Julian and his heart clenched, because Julian was watching the water with a panic-stricken face. Scorch’s own panic re-surfaced as he saw Vivid tense beside him. Sensing something was amiss, Kio came out of her dazed state and looked worriedly at Julian, who was leaning further over the water. Kio took Julian’s hand in hers and, for a moment, Scorch thought she would hum softly to him, but she couldn’t. She could do nothing to comfort him but squeeze his hand.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Scorch saw it when it passed beneath their raft again: a titanic shadow. It darted beneath them, lightning-fast. Now they were all watching the water except for Vivid, who was staring at Julian.

  Julian was shaking with fear. The shadow circled them, racing back and forth beneath their raft. Kio rubbed at Julian’s arm, lifted his chin, and pressed a single finger to her lips. His breathing was clearly labored from the strain of panic, but he was doing a fine job of keeping himself quiet. If the shadow hadn’t scraped the bottom of the raft, Julian might have held it in until they reached the shore.

  But the shadow scraped the bottom of the raft, and Julian’s mouth fell open to form a scream.

  Vivid was quick. Before the sound could rip from Julian’s throat, he was there, clasping his hand over Julian’s mouth. The raft rocked, and Kio scrambled to sit beside Scorch and keep it balanced. The moment was so fueled with energy that it was impossible to tell what was happening at first. Scorch watched Julian claw at Vivid’s arm, but Vivid kept his hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Julian struggled, and Vivid turned them, angling their bodies until Scorch could no longer see their faces. They struggled silently, and then, moments later, the struggle ended. Vivid laid Julian down on the raft. His eyes and mouth were open and his face was purple.

  Scorch didn’t understand why he looked so strange at first, not realizing, not wanting to realize, that Vivid had just killed him.

  Julian was dead. Julian’s corpse was lying on the raft, a foot away. Julian was dead.

  Vivid had killed him. Smothered him? Strangled him? Scorch couldn’t concentrate. Julian’s lifeless eyes were staring at him and it took all of Scorch’s strength not to throw up. How many dead eyes would he have to see in his life? How many people would he have to see murdered in front of him? He raged. His heart pounded and lungs burned as he looked between Julian’s dead body and Vivid’s live one.

  He shouldn’t have looked at Vivid at all, because the look on his face said, quite clearly, that he would kill Kio, and he would kill Scorch, if either of them even thought about making a noise. Julian had never even managed to scream before Vivid fell upon him to stop it. The mere anticipation of a scream had killed him.

  Kio took Scorch’s hand, and he looked up at her. She had taken over Vivid’s steering, but he could tell she was in shock. The raft rocked again as the gigantic shadow zoomed beneath. Had it been following their raft the whole time? Had they only now noticed it because the sun was up? Had Vivid really just killed Julian right in front of him? Had Scorch just watched it happen?

  Julian was lying beside Vivid and Vivid was staring straight past Scorch and Kio to the shore. It was too far away. Much too far when sharing a raft with a corpse and a murderer. Scorch’s terror rose as thoughts of flame engulfed him. His face felt red-hot. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Vivid. But he could do nothing but sit and watch the shoreline. And wait.

  When the sun was cruelly bright, the shadow was gone and the shore was yards away. Julian’s body was stiff with rigamortis.

  The closer they came to the shore, the less steady Scorch felt. Never had he wanted to escape from a place more than he wanted to escape the raft, not even the Circle dungeon. When the raft finally pressed against land, Scorch ignored Kio’s comforting hand and stood up on wavering legs. He lifted Julian’s body beneath the elbows with plans to drag him, but Vivid lifted Julian by the ankles and they toted him together, off the raft and onto the shore. Kio watched with her hands steepled over her mouth in silent prayer. They carried the body until they’d reached the beginning of the high grass and then they set it down gently.

  Scorch launched himself at Vivid.

  He didn’t draw his sword—he wasn’t suicidal—but he knocked Vivid to the ground and climbed on top of him.

  “YOU KILLED HIM!” Scorch yelled, all the rage that had been bubbling up inside him escaping in that single cry.

  Vivid’s hand flew up to Scorch’s mouth. Fingers pressed roughly against his lips and Scorch’s senses were overwhelmed with the scent of tree sap. His world was amethyst and black hair and a gravelly whisper telling him to shut his mouth. Vivid breathed and Scorch moved with the rise and fall of his chest.

  Somewhere nearby, Kio was on her knees. Somewhere nearby, Julian was on his back. But even nearer, slithering from the surface of the water and creeping up the bank, was something else.

  Scorch sat back slowly until Vivid’s hand fell away from his mouth, his thighs fitted snugly around the smaller man’s waist. He felt breathless and foolish. But he didn’t feel like getting up yet.

  A moment later, Vivid’s hand gripped his ankle. Scorch looked down at him questioningly, only to see both of Vivid’s hands resting against his chest. Scorch furrowed his brow and Vivid mimicked the expression, and that was all the time they had before Scorch was snatched backward with incredible force.

  Vivid’s figure became smaller and smaller as Scorch was lifted higher and higher in the air. He was upside down, hanging by the ankle, but could see nothing of what held him, only Vivid and Kio moving on the shore and Julian lying there, and then, as quickly as he’d ascended, he was falling. He slammed into the ground, felt Vivid’s hands grabbing at his arm, his shoulder, his hair, and then the thing wrapped around Scorch’s ankle pulled him into the water.

  He held his breath, submerged, but the thing kept dragging him deeper and deeper. Scorch forced his eyes open. They burned beneath the water, but he was mindless of that particular discomfort. There was something about the enormous, tentacled monster that really demanded his full attention.

  The details of the creature were murky in the dark depths of the lake, but Scorch could make out more than enough to terrify. The tentacle wrapped around Scorch’s ankle was only one of many, and though its skin was rubbery and slick, he could feel tiny, needle-sharp spikes puckered into the flesh of his ankle to keep him from slipping from its grip. He couldn’t make out a face, but there was a central point where needled tentacles merged into a lumpy, grotesque mass with a giant hole that plunged the water, sucking and spitting. Scorch had no doubt that the tentacle dragging him was dragging him straight for that hole.

  The lungful of air he had the wherewithal to breathe was shortly spent, and the sensation he’d felt when the boy pushed his head in the puddle came roaring back. He was deep beneath the lake’s surface now, with two choices before him. He could open his mouth, let his lungs fill with water, and drown. Or he could try to hold on and find out what happened when the creature fed him into that hole.

  A mad, third choice popped into his mind, but the water flooded him with wet chills and the brief hope burned out alongside the heat beneath his skin. Drown or Be Eaten. Drown or Be Eaten. Scorch closed his eyes and tried to think of something pleasant, a final memory to replay before he died, but he couldn’t think of one. He couldn’t even picture his parents’ faces. Or Merric’s. Or Etheridge’s. Or Master McClintock’s. All he could see were sparkling amethyst eyes, as though they were right in front of him.

  In an instant, the tentacle around his ankle loosened its grip and Scorch was floating free. He blinked and the amethyst didn’t disappear,
only faded as spots of light began pricking the edges of his vision. Something gripped his shoulders and shoved him away, and Scorch was filled with an unexplainable second wind. He moved his arms violently, kicking his feet, struggling and fighting until he could see the light rippling above the surface of the water, and then he burst free, his face breaching the surface of the lake. He gulped in sweet air, over and over, treading water and wondering how he was still alive.

  He couldn’t think clearly, but he could see, and the water around him was clouded with red. Seconds later, a second head broke the surface and Scorch yelped. Hair was plastered across Vivid’s face, and he gasped, spitting up water before setting one of his daggers between his teeth, fisting Scorch’s collar, and urging him to follow, urging him to swim. Scorch could hardly doggy paddle, but Vivid kicked at him beneath the water. When Scorch’s exhausted head began to sink, Vivid pulled him back up, muttering curses and pulling him along until their feet touched the ground. Scorch stumbled in the mud and Vivid used both hands to haul him onto the bank.

  He was dizzy and his mind was muddled, but he was aware of Vivid’s cross face as he slid an arm around him and lifted him to his feet. A soft voice sounded in the ear of his other side, where Kio had taken up his other arm. They marched Scorch across the tall grass for several laborious minutes before Vivid dropped him.

  Kio collapsed beneath Scorch’s weight and they both went down.

  “Scorch. Scorch.” She held his face in her hands. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins and made his muscles tingle, and for a few minutes, all he could do was blink at her and breathe. He could faintly hear Vivid’s voice storming in the background, could see his slim silhouette pacing frantically. Kio kept humming calming melodies until Scorch’s body could move again, and then she helped him stand.

  “Can you walk?” Kio asked.

  His heartbeat was in his ankle, throbbing, but he nodded, grimacing at the pain. The whole right side of his body ached where he’d been slammed into the ground. “Julian,” he whispered. “We have to go back for his body. We have to bury him.”