by Justin Rose
The hall shuddered as Ariel continued pressing down on the Tear, and the fairies quaked where they stood and floated, awed by the power they felt running out from their collective. Ariel turned her hand to Tressa next, sending out a second blinding light. Tressa glowed with yellow sunlight and sighed as if a great pain were leaving her. All remains of care fled her face with the fading of the light, and she straightened feeling five years younger.
Three more times, Ariel directed her blasts of light, once to each of Reheuel’s children. And when she had finished, she slid her hand from the Tear and sank to her knees. A tiny black hand print sizzled in the surface of the Tear, a permanent scar in what was thought its unbreakable surface.
Reheuel and his family glanced at each other uncertainly, each overcome with a sudden feeling of health and vigor but unsure of what had actually happened.
Ariel smiled at them. “Recently, a great evil was released on this world, a new race born from this Tear. Today, it has granted life to a new good. Barring accidents of physical harm and injury in combat, you are each now immortal, the first family of a line that will no doubt bless this world for centuries to come.”
Reheuel glanced down at his hands. Leathery and scarred with age. “Immortal?” he asked.
Ariel smiled. “As much as I have been. You will never age, never grow sick, never collapse beneath the blows of time alone.”
Reheuel shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Ariel laughed. “Then let us finish our celebration. Let us raise our glasses to coming centuries of friendship.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in storytelling and song, the humans and fairies exchanging the tales each held unique to their people. The fairies sang stories of the merfolk and gnomes, and Reheuel told stories of the rugged north, of fire sprites and sand dragons and the wild men who hunt them.
In the evening, Hefthon approached the Fairy Queen where she sat alone in the courtyard. “Ariel,” he said, “I made you a promise when last we spoke.”
She nodded. “It was a promise made in passion. I do not hold you to it.”
“I am grateful, but I would hold myself to it nonetheless.”
“So you would give your life to this city?” Ariel asked, “even knowing how long it now might be?”
Hefthon nodded. “I travel to the Capital this winter. There I will serve for four years as a soldier. But—after—when I am free again, I will return. The world needs this city. And I would be honored to help protect it.”
“Then I will see you in four years,” Ariel said.
The next morning, Reheuel and his family rode back toward Gath Odrenoch, and Brylle and Ariel stood on the wall over the gate waving farewell. Ariel believed that her aging would come slowly, perhaps over the span of centuries. But as they stood there together, Brylle thought that already her hair looked slightly grayer, that her light burned slightly duller. Brylle shivered in the chill of the fall wind. No wonder lasts forever.
Epilogue
The story-man’s voice faded as he pronounced the final sentence of his story, his eyes taking on a distant nostalgia, as if he were pained by a thousand memories that echoed Brylle’s sentiment. The tale had taken many nights, but still the size of his audience had scarcely diminished. And now, as the story ended, the people shuffled uncomfortably, hesitant to make their final departure from the fantasy they had so briefly entered.
A small child near the foot of the little stage raised his hand and called out to the story-man, “What happened to them?”
The child’s mother hushed him, but still the entire crowd leaned forward, eager for any last remnant of the tale, no matter how familiar.
The story-man smiled at the child and beckoned him forward. He set the boy on his knee and continued, addressing the child personally but speaking so that all in the tent could hear him.
“Many things, child, many things happened to the people in our story. For our story was but the first chapter in the legend of The Father, a tale that would unfold for further centuries in Reheuel’s family. Reheuel became the governor of Gath Odrenoch and protected that city for most of his long life. He watched as it developed and grew into the bastion of human culture and trade for which we now remember it and died at the fine age of one hundred and seventy-five. Tressa followed him a short while after, and they were both outlived by eleven of their twelve children.
“Geuel and Hefthon traveled to the Capital in the winter following their adventure with the smoke fairies. Hefthon served his four years stationed in the Capital where he married and began a family. Afterward, he traveled to the Fairy City with his family and there formed a religious order known as the Keepers, soldier-servants of Innocence dedicated to protecting the City of Youth. For nearly a thousand years Hefthon led the Keepers, becoming the oldest living immortal.
“Geuel joined the cavalry and traveled to and from the Capital for years, earning a reputation for valor while fighting fire sprites in the Northern Wastes. He stayed in the cavalry long after the end of his four years and eventually became a colonel at the age of forty. By fifty, he had drawn the attention of the emperor and become a personal favorite. In his sixty-second year, using power granted him by the emperor, he founded a new military order known as the Guards, an elite force led by immortal officers and based in Gath Odrenoch.
“Veil became an apothecary, apprenticing for years in the Capital. Later, several decades after Geuel had formed the Guards, the emperor tasked Veil with the formation of a new medical order known as the Healers.
“All three orders founded by the children of Reheuel lasted nearly as long as the Iris, the Guards and Healers playing vital roles in all of its many wars.
“Less is remembered of Reheuel’s later children than of his first three. Most became officers in the Guards. Several followed Veil into the Healers. The youngest, Elivar, inherited his father’s distaste for imperialism and traveled to Kheshan where he spent his life studying the technologies of the gnomes.
“As for Ariel, the Fairy Queen aged slowly and lived nearly as long as Hefthon, dying a peaceful death a few decades before the start of the Hunter Wars. Mercifully, she was spared the sight of her city’s end. After the city fell, Brylle led what remained of the fairy people on a great migration over the southern jungles, searching for a new home beyond the borders of Rehavan.
“Randiriel never again set foot in the City of Youth after the end of our story. She traveled to the Capital and stayed there for many years, working as a messenger for the court and earning a name for her wit and cunning. Weaving herself into the politics and intrigues of the court, she earned a title and a place in the Capital’s governing body. Geuel remained her close friend during his years as an officer, and they were long remembered for their active roles in the nationalist party.
“After Geuel’s death by poison at the age of one hundred and twenty, Randiriel left the court, disillusioned with the Iris and tired of the nobility’s petty intrigues. She spent the rest of her life traveling Rehavan in search of some lasting cause, an ideal that she could believe eternal. Her name surfaces in stories for centuries after.”
A heavy clatter of wooden poles and metal stakes sounded outside, and the story-man smiled at his listeners. “Well, my friends, I hear them tearing down the tents, and so I know our time is over. I will leave you all to return to your lives and thank you for your ears. Farewell.”
The audience slowly drifted from the big tent, staring about in wonder as the other tents began to fall, canopies drifting down and stakes rising from the earth. Groups of elves and gnomes yelled and squabbled along the streets, fighting over the proper ways to pack the materials.
Another circus was over, and the next day all of the story-man’s audience would return to their mines and farms, sweating out their weary lives. Their brief respite of wonder had ended.
Beautiful nymphs of the river,
Beautiful sprites of the wood,
Your story now is over;
Return to your forests and floods.
Final stanza of “The Lay of Reheuel”
From the Author
Thank you for reading my work. I hope you enjoyed it and that you will consider my works again in the future. If you enjoyed Ariel’s Tear, please feel free to rate and review it at your favorite retailer. You will be doing me a great service. Also, if you have any comments or wish to contact me with your thoughts directly, you may reach me on facebook. God bless.
https://www.facebook.com/JustinOctavianRose/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel
About the Author
Justin Rose is an emerging author from Superior Wisconsin. Inspired by both the classics of Western literature and the speculative fiction of the 20th century, Rose’s work is a blend of literary art and speculative adventure that interweaves the higher themes of the classics with the adventurous spirit of genre fiction.
