Ariel's Tear

by Justin Rose

  Reheuel walked back to the tree where the goblin had disappeared. About twenty feet up its trunk, he saw several gaunt forms cringing on its branches. He growled and slashed at the tree with his sword. The creatures leapt from their perches into nearby branches, and he heard them crashing away through the tree tops. He spun about. “Leave the tents! Hefthon, the horses. Geuel, keep your spear ready. There are more.”

  Tressa stood, clutching Veil in her arms. “How many?”

  “I don’t know,” Reheuel replied. “Just keep Veil close.”

  He cast several sticks on the fire, and the flame soon lit up the surrounding woods. Bright glints in several treetops betrayed the eyes of watching creatures. Within minutes, Reheuel and his family were riding away, tents still pitched in the forest. As he rode, Reheuel watched the tree tops. Twice, he saw dim forms swinging from the branches. Once, a blade glinted in the moonlight. They broke the edge of the forest after about an hour’s ride, and Reheuel stopped his horse to gaze back at the trees. He couldn’t tell if the rustling was the wind, but many of the tree tops swayed and rocked. He spun his horse and dug in his spurs. “We ride till morning,” he said to his family. “Spare the horses though. I doubt they’ll follow.”

  Tressa pulled her horse alongside his as they rode. “How many?” she asked.

  “Many,” he said. “After we reach the City, I’ll return to Gath Odrenoch. If the goblins are coming down in force, they must be warned.”

  “Should we turn back?”

  Reheuel shook his head. “Too dangerous. They’re riled now. I wouldn’t risk you and Veil.”

  Hours passed as they traveled. Night scattered in the rays of dawn. Dawn brightened to day, and finally night fell once more. They halted in the open this time, far from any trees or cover. Geuel and Reheuel took turns watching through the night.

  They rode hard the next day, and as they crested the brow of a hill in the afternoon, the glistening, tear-shaped spires of the Fairy City appeared, still distant on the plain below. Despite the terrors of the recent night and the weight of his new knowledge, Reheuel smiled as he saw the city.

  Veil, uttered a sharp cry at the sight of it. “It’s beautiful!”

  Hefthon laughed. “It is indeed, Veil.”

  “What is it made of?” she asked, squinting at the silvery, glinting spires. It’s so smooth.”

  “Thought, little one. It’s made of thought,” Reheuel replied. “The Fairies create for the beauty of creating. They weave their city with nothing but the power of Ariel’s Tear and their own imagination. Whole cities blossom in the sky sometimes, hanging gardens and waterfalls of light suspended from the clouds.”

  Geuel sighed. “Such power, it’s a wonder they don’t spread over all the earth as they build.”

  “That’s the beauty of youth,” Reheuel said. “They don’t build for vanity or power. Their creations fade as soon as their focus shifts. The central city stands by the power of Ariel and the other rulers. But everything else fades with new creations. No wonder lasts forever.”

  “Such waste,” said Geuel.

  “Such beauty,” said Hefthon.

  Tressa shaded her eyes. “Is that—smoke?”

  “Where?” Reheuel asked, tensing immediately.

  “Over the city, to the left of the central spire.”

  Reheuel nodded. “It is—Hefthon, stay with your mother and sister. Ride after us slowly. Geuel, follow me!”

  Reheuel dug in his spurs and took off, flashing across the hills in front of his family, Geuel close behind.

  Foam spattered his horse’s flanks and stained his breeches when he finally leapt from his horse’s back, running instantly toward the gate of the Fairy City. He could see the smoke clearly now, black plumes rising from the city’s heart. Hundreds of fairies swarmed in the air, visible in every direction over the gate, spinning in circles, flashing to and fro like frightened children, screaming in confusion. The ringing of stone and steel echoed from within the city. The gate stood open several feet, and Reheuel ducked inside. The Fairy City, despite the size of its denizens, was built as if for men, and Reheuel navigated its shining streets with ease.

  The city was a great maze of intersecting tunnels and fantastic arches. The walls were built of silver, but not the dull silver of reality, the silver of thought, silver as it appears in dreams. The ceiling glistened like diamond, splitting light into a thousand colors and reflecting them off specks of mirror that dotted the marble floor.

  But Reheuel could not pause to admire the architecture as he ran. The sounds of fire and striking iron drew him down winding, labyrinthine hallways and over open causeways toward the city’s center. Soon, he could hear the Faeja, the river over which the Fairy City arched, rushing beneath his feet.

  Reheuel paused at a corner, drew his sword, and leaned for a moment against the wall. Geuel stopped beside him, panting slightly.

  Reheuel patted his shoulder. “Around the next bend, there’s a courtyard. If the keep hasn’t fallen, that’s where the fighting will be. When we go in, stay close. Don’t take any risks. Understand?”

  Geuel nodded. “I understand.”

  “The goblins are weaker in the sunlight. They can’t see very well. But they’re still dangerous. Ready?”

  Geuel nodded. “Yes,”

  Reheuel smiled. You make me proud.” He turned the corner and stepped into the courtyard. It had been a crystal garden, filled with clear, hanging boxes of diamond vines and opal roses. Along the ground, sapphire-streaked, crystal Lady Slippers lay shattered and crushed amid swathes of bent golden irises.

  In the center of the garden, a single silver tower stood twenty stories high, perfectly octagonal with a flat roof. Around its walls, about twenty goblins clambered, swinging wildly from ledge to ledge, scraping iron blades against chinks and joints, prying at the edges of windows, and shrieking in harsh, guttural monosyllables.

  Reheuel approached behind two that stood at the main gate of the tower, swinging pick axes at the silver door. He swung once, and the larger of the creatures fell. Before he could follow with a second blow, the other screeched and scrabbled up the side of the building, chattering to its fellows. Reheuel backed away from the tower, getting out of jumping range, and clutched Geuel’s jacket. “Don’t get any closer. Let them come to us.”

  The goblins on the walls hissed and spat, nickering in confused anger. They pushed themselves out from the wall periodically and strained at their handholds, as if searching for an opportunity to pounce.

  “Get any closer and they’ll swarm us,” Reheuel said. “Keep your distance.”

  Suddenly a sharp cracking sound came from the far side of the building about fifteen feet up as one of the farther creatures penetrated a window. The others spun about and scrabbled along the wall toward the far side, anxious to enter.

  “The door! Get to the door!” Reheuel cried.

  Geuel sprinted for the door and struck it with his fist. “Open up!” he cried. “We’ll help you!”

  Shrieks and screams echoed from inside, mixed with the chunnering laughter of the goblins. Through dozens of tiny holes in the wall, openings no larger than a fist, hundreds of fairies came flying in fear. Many were bleeding, their lights dull and flickering. Flakes of wing drifted around them like leaves, torn on the silver walls.

  Reheuel pounded at the door beside his son. “Please! Ariel! Open the door!”

  Suddenly the door slid open, vanishing into the walls of the tower like folded blades. Reheuel grabbed his son’s shirt. “Follow me. The throne room.”

  They entered and found themselves in a massive, round hall. Its domed ceiling, painted in a mural of the night sky, hung a distant forty feet above them. Along each side of the outer wall, staircases wound in semicircles, linking the hall to the higher floors. Reheuel ran to the nearest and leapt up the stone steps, coughing with the exertion of the last hours.

  Geuel shadowed him, sword still drawn, staring at the gore that spattered the floors and stairs.
He stopped and nearly hurled when he saw a female leg lying on the steps in front of him, its entirety no longer than his smallest finger. Aside from a few specks of blood, smaller than raindrops to a human, it looked—clean, garishly whole and undefiled.

  At the top of the steps, Reheuel paused to clear his breathing. Then he ran through the door, his empty sheath flapping against the silver walls, gouging the floral filigree with its brass cap. “Two halls further on the right,” he called over his shoulder. “Innocence spare them! I hope we’re not too late.”

  Geuel nodded and hurried to catch up, ashamed at falling behind.

  A few minutes later, they turned and entered a kind of entry hall before a large open archway. In the archway, tendrils of a solid light spun and cavorted, weaving themselves together into ropes and wicker walls. Eight goblins stood in the doorway, hacking at the trails of light and tearing them apart, casting them aside as they strove to break through the growing barrier. The broken tendrils dissipated as they struck the floor. Countless fairies lay dead before the door, their mangled bodies dwarfed by three goblin corpses.

  Geuel drew his dagger in his left hand and looked to his father.

  “Don’t hesitate,” Reheuel said and lunged forward at the distracted goblins. He swung twice before they could react, leaving one dead and another mildly injured. Geuel caught one of the stragglers in the hamstring and left it writhing.

  The others spun around and gnashed their spindly teeth in anger, snarling and snorting through their broad noses. One charged, waving a wooden mallet embedded with nails. Reheuel caught its swing on his sword, and his son ran it through.

  Three more ran forward lowering spears, and Reheuel and Geuel backed into the narrower hallway. As they entered, Geuel gasped. “The lights!” he cried.

  Reheuel looked back to the archway and saw the lights begin to fade, withering like living tissue. “They’re weakening,” he said. “We have to get into the throne room.” He moved forward and swung at one of the spears, turning it aside. Stepping past the goblin’s guard, he swung downward and split its crown. Geuel hurled his dagger at another, distracting it long enough for him to leap past its spear and pierce its chest. The third dropped its spear and ran after its fellows, chattering wildly as it entered the throne room.

  Reheuel ran after it and skidded on a slick of blood, sliding into the throne room off balance. About chest level in the room, a circle of nine fairies hovered, facing outward. Their translucent wings flashed wildly in a haze of scarlet, silver, and cerulean light. Around them, tendrils of solid light flickered and spun, winding like the tentacles of some dying beast, knocking aside the goblins that edged in too close. In the center of the circle, a female fairy with black hair and a scarlet dress hovered clasping a tear-shaped gem the size of her body.

  Reheuel swung his sword at one of the goblins closest to the door, but it ducked and skittered across the stone floor to the far side of the fairy ring, nickering wildly.

  “They hardly notice us,” Geuel said, swinging at a second creature.

  It caught his blade in the crook of a sickle and knocked it aside before running back at the circle of fairies, leaping high in the air, long arms extended for a blow.

  “They’re after the fairies,” Reheuel said.

  He swung once more and caught the goblin he had wounded earlier in the side. It collapsed to the stone floor with a click of bony joints.

  Just then the tendrils of light around the fairy circle shattered and fell to the ground. A goblin snickered as it flicked a lightless fairy from its spear tip. The other goblins leapt in toward the ring and sent its members scattering. The central fairy dropped her gem as a blow from a goblin’s palm sent her flying toward the wall.

  “Ariel!” Reheuel cried and leapt to catch her, dropping his sword. Geuel stepped forward and crouched protectively over his body.

  Three of the goblins turned and closed in, eyes squinting in the light from the window, faces flecked with spittle and blood. The fourth, clutching Ariel’s gem, scrambled over the windowsill.

  Geuel swung out tentatively, tapping aside the tip of the nearest goblin’s sword. It recoiled and then crept back. They were bent low, crawling, their knees popped high over their backs and elbows tugging them along the floor. Their heaving, bony chests scraped against the floor, and their sickles hung loosely beside them. Geuel slowly backed up, scattering chips of silver stone as he slashed the floor in front of their faces.

  Reheuel stood behind him. “I can’t get to my sword,” he said.

  Without turning, Geuel handed him his dagger, and together they stood facing the remaining creatures. One sprang suddenly at Reheuel, launching itself from its coiled rear legs like a frog. Reheuel stepped back and caught its blade on the dagger but tripped on a body. The goblin straddled his chest.

  Geuel tried to turn, but the remaining goblins cut him off, chattering in nickers and clicks, their eyes glinting with a devilish amusement. Geuel stepped forward and thrust twice, both times striking air as the goblins snaked around his blade, weaving with an offhand ease. He kicked at one, causing it to leap back, and then charged its fellow, swinging low and wide. It caught his blade, but he slid his sword back from its parry and thrust under the raised sickle, piercing it under the collar bone. He kicked it off his blade and turned back toward the second.

  Reheuel lay on his back, his dagger held at an angle, its curved guard locked with the guard of the goblin’s knife, barely holding the blade away from his throat. He grunted as he felt his arms slowly giving way.

  The goblin’s eyes strained and bulged in their sockets, and its temples throbbed as it strained with all its sinewy might to finish the blow.

  Just as the blade touched Reheuel’s neck, a flash of red light cut across his vision and struck the goblin’s neck, knocking it off balance. It grabbed wildly at its throat, but Ariel held on and thrust again and again with her tiny, pin-like dagger, rupturing the goblin’s artery and finally snapping her blade on its tough skin. A spray of blood drenched the Fairy Queen as the goblin slid to the ground, gurgling confusedly and clutching its throat.

  Reheuel turned and saw his son facing the last creature and approached it from behind. Grasping its head in his knotty hands, he jerked tightly and snapped its neck.

  “Pretty good for an old man,” Geuel said with a laugh.

  Reheuel snorted and grabbed his sword from the ground. “Let’s see you do it.”

  He turned away and looked for Ariel. She knelt in a nearby corner, cradling the head of another fairy in her lap. Her entire right side still dripped with blood, staining her marble skin and scarlet dress. “They’re gone, Randiriel,” she whispered. “It’s over.”

  The other fairy, a blonde female in a green, blood-shot dress, trembled and wept like a child. “They’ll be back, they’ll be back . . .” she repeated in a rhythmic monotone, staring at the archway with hollow eyes.

  Ariel sighed and rocked her for a few more seconds, whispering into her ear. Then she lowered her softly to the floor and turned back to Reheuel, flitting up to his level.

  Reheuel nodded to the goblin she had killed. “Youthful innocence?” he asked.

  “Not all of us have such a blessing,” Ariel replied.

  Reheuel glanced at the remaining fairies from the ring of nine. “And them?”

  “There were nine of us,” Ariel said, “nine elders who gave up youth to lead the others. We were the strongest and the oldest.”

  Reheuel pointed to the fairy in the corner. “She all right?” he asked.

  Ariel shook her head. “Randiriel wasn’t an elder. She stayed to fight, even in her innocence. It’s never happened before.”

  “I’m sorry,” Reheuel said. He began to turn away. “We saw more outside. We’ll find them.”

  Ariel shook her head. “They’re gone. They have what they came for. I can feel my city, and she is clean.”

  Chapter 3

  Hefthon stood at the gates of the fairy city, nervously slidi
ng his sweaty hand along the grip of his spear, tightening his palm around the leather thongs that wound its shaft. “I should go in,” he said.

  “Wait for your father,” Tressa said. “It’s not safe here for Veil.”

  “He could need me,” Hefthon snapped. “There hasn’t been a sound since he went in.”

  “He could need you,” his mother replied. “But Veil does need you. Restrain yourself.”

  Hefthon jabbed the butt of his spear into the earth and sank to his haunches. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

  “She’s always right, Hefthon. One of the first lessons I learned after wedding her.”

  Hefthon glanced up and saw his father and Geuel approaching the gate, just turned from a side street. Hefthon leapt to his feet. “What is it? Goblins? Is the city lost?” he asked.

  Reheuel clapped him on the shoulder. “No, she is not lost, though there are many dead. They’ve taken Ariel’s Tear as well.”

  Hefthon tore his spear from the earth. “We have to pursue them,” he said.

  Reheuel shook his head. “We don’t have to do anything. You and Geuel will stay here with Veil and your mother.”

  Tressa looked up quickly. “Reh,” she said, “what are you thinking? Reh? Look at me.”

  Reheuel sighed. “I can’t let them take it, Tressa. Without that tear, this city won’t last the month. It’ll fade. It’s only standing now by the power of a few exhausted fairies. If they don’t get the Tear back, the world will lose another wonder.”

  “You don’t know how many there are.”

  Reheuel whistled for his horse which stood grazing a few yards off.

  “Reh, look at me. You’re not twenty. Wait till you can get your men.”

  Reheuel shook his head. “There’s no time. I have to stop them before they reach the mountains.”

  Geuel took the bow and quiver from his horse. “Father,” he said, holding them out. “You’ll need these more than I.”

  “String?”

  “In the pouch on the side of the quiver. Good luck.”