The Sun Guardian

by T. S. Cleveland

  The gurgle of wine flowing from a jug repeated six times and Scorch wondered who the four assassins were besides Axum and Elias.

  “Good, thank you,” Axum said. “If everyone is ready.” There was a wave of agreeable murmurs followed by the clinking of several glasses. “Elias, what do you have?”

  “Their base has moved, as we suspected” Elias reported, in a far more formal tone than Scorch had ever heard from him, “and their numbers remain a problem.”

  “Location?”

  “Twenty miles east of here, in an abandoned fortress.”

  “And the new leadership?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Elias,” Axum sighed.

  “After three days of scouting, no apparent leader was seen, and the base was too closely guarded to infiltrate on my own.”

  “I can think of someone who would have tried regardless.”

  “And they would be too dead to report to you, as I do now.”

  An awkward silence fell upon the room and Scorch wished it would stop, because it made his breathing sound dramatically loud in his head. Thankfully, after a lengthy gurgle of pouring wine, the conversation continued.

  “You will go back,” Axum ordered. “Bring Umbren and Finn and do not return until you can tell me the name of their leader.”

  “Yes, Axum,” Elias returned, sounding properly scolded.

  “And what news of the Queen?”

  Scorch’s knees curled tighter into his chest and spongy crumbles smashed against his abdomen.

  “She seemed neutral to the High Priestess’ death,” said a female voice Scorch didn’t recognize. “I believe it’s possible she may be swayed to our plight, and if not, it would be an easy enough task to eliminate her.”

  “That’s good news,” Axum said. His chair creaked and Scorch could picture him walking around his desk, could hear his feet as they paced leisurely across the room. All else was silent. “If she is malleable, let us try to keep her for the transition. Her voice of support could help tame the masses. If not, she can be replaced with one of our own. It must be done eventually, anyway. Elementals cannot rule Viridor with human royalty.”

  “Why not kill her right away?” Elias asked. “Why not kill all the humans?”

  “Because death is too kind for those who have hunted us and dwindled our numbers down to scraps. Better to bend and break the humans as slaves. Better to make them the dirt beneath our feet so that we may step on them the way they have stepped on us.” Glasses clinked in a toast. “Though our domain is now but a single Hollow, soon it will be all of Viridor. No guardian, Priestess’ Monk, nor human will stand between us and our Gods-given right to rule.”

  A knock on the door interrupted Axum’s terrifying world domination speech, and Scorch strained his ear as footsteps travelled to answer the caller. He heard the creak of the door, followed by a long-suffering sigh from Axum. “Vivid.”

  “I need to speak to you in private,” came Vivid’s irritable drawl.

  “We’re in the middle of something,” Elias spat.

  “No,” Axum decided, “we’re finished here. Leave us.”

  Scorch held his breath as five sets of footsteps left the room, and when the door shut behind them, his building anxiety lessened. Remaining hidden was a much smaller burden now that Vivid was there. He must have been watching, must have seen everyone enter while Scorch was still inside, and now he had come with a distraction to save him. But for now, Scorch was still hidden behind a chair and his legs were beginning to cramp.

  “I assume this is about the Fire,” began Axum. “How does his training go?”

  “He’s improved in his sparring and the control of his element,” Vivid answered. “His stealth training has lagged, but I’ve given him his final test tonight and believe he might survive it with minimal damage.”

  Scorch’s chest would have puffed with pride if he weren’t so constrained. Vivid was complimenting him, and he knew Scorch could hear. He savored the moment, because he was sure it would never come again.

  “Excellent,” said Axum. “Then we can give him his first assignment and weigh his true worth to the Hollow.”

  Scorch couldn’t see Vivid’s face, but he could picture the storminess of his eyes and the thinning of his lips as he spoke in a grumpy grate. “He won’t be agreeable to murder, Axum.”

  “His assignment will not be yours to dictate. Is that all you have to share?”

  Vivid remained silent.

  “Then you are excused.”

  Scorch listened to Vivid’s steps as they receded down the tunnel, and when the door closed, it felt like the closing of a tomb. He’d hoped Vivid might lure Axum away from his chamber so he could escape, but no. It seemed his stealth test was doomed to last forever, or at least until Axum went to bed.

  It turned out Axum stayed up too late, far too late, reading over scrolls, pacing, whispering to himself, drinking more wine, and when he finally snuffed out the torches and left the main room for an adjacent bedchamber, Scorch was about to lose his mind.

  Still, he refused to grow reckless with impatience. He waited several minutes longer, listening for signs of activity until he could hear nothing but the silence of sleep, and only then, with stiff legs and an aching back that would never forgive him, did he creep across the room. He stopped at the door and pressed his ear against it. Hearing no sounds from the other side, he eased it open with minimal creaking and slipped through. With equal care, he closed it, and with soft, fast steps, he traversed the Hollow’s tunnels.

  When he reached the room of cots, Vivid wasn’t there. He frowned, gave it a thought, and then headed for the waterfall. Hopes of discovering Vivid taking a dip in the pool were dashed when he spotted him, fully clothed and sitting at the water’s edge. Scorch thought of attempting to sneak up on him, but he was sore and tired and couldn’t be bothered to keep his feet from their loud, clumsy strut.

  Amethyst eyes followed Scorch as he collapsed at Vivid’s side. He stretched out on his back and stuffed a hand down his jerkin, pulling out sticky remnants of honey cake. Wordlessly, he dropped the smooshed pieces in Vivid’s lap. Vivid glared at a piece that landed on his knee, then picked it up and put it in his mouth. Scorch sat up on his elbows and watched him chew. Vivid licked his lips when he was done, but didn’t speak.

  Scorch was forced from silence first. “I overheard something when I was hiding.”

  Vivid picked idly at another crumb.

  “Something bad.”

  Vivid popped the crumb into his mouth and sucked the sweet residue from his fingers.

  Scorch tried not to focus on his throat as he swallowed the morsel. “Vivid,” he pleaded.

  At his vehemence, Vivid looked at him impatiently. “What?”

  “Axum is planning an elemental domination.”

  “An elemental domination.”

  “He talked about assassinating the Queen and enslaving humans.”

  At first, Vivid looked at Scorch like he was crazy, which wasn’t too far off from how he normally looked at him, but then his face began to adopt an unsettling blankness, and he broke eye contact to watch the ripples in the pool.

  “You’re mistaken,” Vivid told him.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You misheard.”

  “I did not mishear. Vivid, you didn’t know about this, did you?” With Vivid looking straight ahead, Scorch’s gaze was free to rove over his profile. He was always startled by the softness he found there, when so much of Vivid was made up of hard, unbending pieces. “The things Axum was saying were crazy. He said elementals were a gift from the Gods. He sounded like the High Priestess. Did you know?”

  Vivid stood abruptly and Scorch watched the honey cake crumbs rain from his legs. The look he gave Scorch was anything but soft.

  “I don’t know why you’re speaking to me like a confidant, but I have no answers for you.”

  “Vivid.”

  “Scorch. Stop talking,” Vivid ordered. His hair
flew from his eyes with a threatening bluster of wind, and then he left.

  Scorch watched his sleek climb up the wet stones, until he disappeared behind the waterfall. He had half a mind to follow Vivid and demand explanations, but his other, lazier half of mind wanted to stretch out his stiff body and close his eyes. As usual, his lazier half won. He mulled over the worrisome words exchanged in Axum’s chamber and sprawled his limbs.

  “Didn’t like what you heard?”

  His eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet. Standing inches away was Elias, because Scorch couldn’t catch a break.

  “What?”

  In the moonlight, Elias’ hair was shining white, ethereal. “Axum’s plan,” he said. “You didn’t like it?”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Scorch, but his efforts at playing nonchalant were lost on Elias.

  “I know you were in there. It smelled like burning.”

  Scorch stepped back, taking a deep breath. Elias hadn’t caused him to lose control for weeks, but it was best, when dealing with the Fire, to keep him at a distance. Unfortunately, Elias had serious boundary issues. He met Scorch step for step until Scorch was pushed back to the edge of the pool.

  “What have humans ever done for you?” Elias asked, his wicked smile firmly in place. The formality of the tone he’d taken with Axum was long gone, and his voice was a taunt.

  “Humans took me in when my parents died,” Scorch answered defiantly.

  “And, so the rumors go, they kicked you out once they realized what you really are. Your guardians sent you on a suicide mission, too afraid to deal with you themselves, too afraid to let you stay. Cowards.”

  Scorch forced his pulse to stay steady. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Was it more complicated than that when humans stuffed you in a cage and forced you to kill for their amusement?”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “And your trip to the mountaintop, how did the humans there treat you? That’s probably complicated, too.”

  “Not everyone is out to get us, Elias,” Scorch said.

  “Says the man who was so repressed when he came here, he couldn’t even light a candle.”

  Scorch sighed. He could not deny he’d encountered less than pleasant treatment in the hands of non-elementals, but to be fair, the slavers had never known he was more than human; they were equally awful to everyone.

  “Did your parents find it complicated when they were murdered?” Elias asked. “You of all people should understand. When given the chance, humans kill our kind. Axum wants to realign the order of the world and make things safe for us again. Don’t you want to be safe, Scorch?”

  The idea of safety came to his mind in flashes: Etheridge’s garden, his tiny room at the Guild, fingers twining through his hair. Safety was a treasure, but he’d never been fully able to grasp it. Even in the moments he felt safest, it was only an illusion. He figured that must be true for everyone, but as an elemental, maybe it was more so. And yet, he could never imagine gaining safety through the enslavement of others. The Master might have knowingly sent him to his death, but the guardians had instilled in him compassion for those weaker than himself. It was the innocent Scorch had vowed to protect, whether they be elementals or humans. The plan Elias spoke of was no better than the High Priestess’ plan to eradicate elementals.

  “Axum’s plan is madness, and I’ll never be a part of it,” Scorch declared.

  Elias looked him up and down, his face uncomfortably close. “That,” he poked his finger into Scorch’s chest, “is a mistake.”

  Scorch knocked Elias’ hand away and gave his superior height permission to loom. “The fact that you think so makes me certain it’s not.” He waited for Elias to move, and when he didn’t, he nudged past with his shoulder. The blond hissed as he was knocked to the side, but Scorch didn’t look back. He knew exactly what he would see, and he wasn’t interested.

  Within the Hollow, lying open-eyed on his cot, was Vivid. When Scorch neared, his mouth already forming the first of many questions, Vivid put a finger over his lips and held out his hand. He unfurled his fingers, revealing a white stem at the center of his palm. If Vivid was avoiding conversation, it was nothing new, and whatever questions Scorch had, he could ask tomorrow. He shut his mouth and accepted the Dream Moss, letting his fingers skim the skin it rested on before setting it on his tongue.

  Before getting into his cot, Scorch removed his jerkin and shook out the remaining honey cake crumbs. A few pieces stuck to his abdomen and he brushed them off, feeling Vivid’s eyes on him. He met them. Vivid allowed the contact for several seconds before closing his eyes and rolling onto his side. Without comment, Scorch settled down for the night.

  Safety was an elusive thing, especially in a den of assassins, but somehow, with one lying beside him, he was quick to find sleep.

  Heartburn

  16

  Audrey woke Scorch. In her hands was a bundle of dark leather. Scorch eyed it suspiciously, his brain slow moving with sleepiness.

  “Your assassin blacks,” Audrey informed him, thrusting the clothes into his hands. “Dress and report to Axum. He wants to speak with you.”

  “Axum?” That did quite a lot towards rousing Scorch’s sluggish mind, and he looked to the cot beside him for Vivid, but he was gone. “Where’s Vivid?”

  “Busy.” Audrey slapped her hand over the black leathers. “Dress. Axum doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  She left, and suddenly Scorch was the only one among the cots, which was fortunate, because it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out the workings of his new attire.

  It was the same material Vivid wore, but there was considerably less of it. The cuirass was sleeveless, like his jerkin, but much tighter and higher hemmed so that it clung to his waist and cut off beneath his belly button. Mercifully, it didn’t buckle up the back like Vivid’s or Scorch would have had to roam the Hollow asking the friendly assassins to do him up. There were, however, half a dozen straps at the waist and across the back, which Scorch concluded were places to keep pointy objects.

  The trousers were asking for trouble. They sat high on his hips and closed by a series of ties down the outer seam of each leg. He performed a number of squats beside the cot, and beside the form-fitting nature of the leather, it did nothing to impede his flexibility. Utility aside, Scorch had no mirror, but he could tell by touch alone that his backside was flatteringly showcased.

  Shiny, knee-high boots were also included in the bundle, but Scorch kicked them under his bed and opted to wear his red boots instead. They were soft and worn in and he liked them. The final addition was his sword belt. He palmed his weapon’s handle, making sure it was secure at his side, and then he was ready.

  Dressed as an assassin from the shins up was a strange experience, and if Scorch wasn’t so consumed by the implications of his meeting with Axum, he might have enjoyed the novelty of it more. As it was, he was walking toward the Leader of the Assassins’ chamber, where Elias was probably telling Axum all about Scorch’s eavesdropping. If Axum knew he’d overheard his plan, and also knew he was adamantly against the plan, the odds of letting him remain in the Hollow were low. And despite Vivid’s annoyance with him the night before, Scorch wasn’t ready to leave him yet, and he certainly wasn’t ready to leave before he found out more about his parents.

  As he traveled through the tunnels, he kept looking for a petite assassin but caught no glimpses, and when he finally reached the outside of Axum’s chambers, he remained a solitary presence. He squirmed a bit in his leathers; they were so tight.

  Scorch was bent over, pulling at the bunching material at his knees, when the door swung open.

  “You’re here,” greeted Axum. “Come in.”

  The older man’s eyes stalled on Scorch’s red boots as he entered. Scorch tried to keep his walk confident, keep his back straight and his chin high. Sure, he had spent three hours curled into a ball behind Axum’s chair the ni
ght before, but he would not be curling into a ball today. Absolutely not.

  “Scorch,” Axum began, and Scorch tried to fix his expression into one of a non-eavesdropper. “You have been training in the Hollow for nearly a month now and Vivid tells me you are much improved.”

  “Erm, yes,” Scorch stumbled. “I believe I am. Vivid and Audrey have been excellent teachers.” Excellent, terrifying teachers.

  “They both speak well of you,” Axum agreed sagely, and Scorch’s brain went haywire imagining Vivid and Audrey saying nice things about him. If he hadn’t heard Vivid’s words to Axum last night, he wouldn’t have believed it. “Elias has spoken to me, also. Of you.”

  There it was. There was the reason for Scorch’s summoning. His fingers twitched anxiously, but he denied himself the comfort of balling them into fists. Fists would only aggravate his nerves, and he needed to stay calm.

  “And what are Elias’ thoughts?” he asked, holding back a grimace. He knew Elias’ thoughts, and they were sick.

  Axum moved to lean against his desk, just like Master McClintock used to do, though he never looked so intimidating whilst doing it. “Elias came to me last night to vouch for your skill. He thinks you are ready for your first assignment.”

  “Oh.” Scorch had heard Axum discussing it with Vivid, but he’d never dreamed it would happen with such haste. In retrospect, he should have known when Audrey gave him the clothes. “Elias said that?”

  “He did.”

  Scorch waited for Axum to add something else, to see if Elias had shared more incriminating information, but the man simply stared and said no more.

  “That’s . . . nice of him,” Scorch said.

  “Vivid has shared the opinion you would be averse to bloodshed. Was he correct?” When Scorch hesitated, Axum barreled on. “I will be lenient, considering your background, lest you think the assassins heartless. Your first assignment is to collect a name from our client. She is a stable hand in the village of Elanor and will be waiting for you at midnight, on the outskirts of town.”

  If Scorch was slow to process Axum’s words, it was because too much had been given too fast. He was left frowning and picking nervously at his trouser strings. “You want me to collect a name?”