by C. A. Sabol
Sulfas beside laughed as well, and it was a long time before Obsidian’s close ally wheezed out, “If this is just the death of one, imagine our victory tomorrow.”
Obsidian nodded. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I do believe that tomorrow we shall see a victory like no other.”
“I agree. Such a pity that some of our men will die though. Even if they are humans, they have been somewhat helpful in getting us this far.”
Obsidian grinned. “Please tell me you are not serious,” he said. “It will be all the better if these men die. We don’t want any of the remnant to have the possibility of becoming Believers of Dreams. It is better that they die, and die suffering. So much more will they be prepared for the endless bloodbath that they will be welcomed with in the realm of the Demon Chasers.”
“True. This is true.”
Then Obsidian’s facial expression huffed into almost an angry pout as he said, “I have been waiting for this battle since I had to flee into this world. At last I will have a victory over that hideous one, that ... despicable, insufferable Guardian!”
IT WAS DARK INSIDE his mind.
Etoileon could hear his heart beating softly in the distance, but he wasn’t sure which direction it was coming from. He felt surrounded by it, but he didn’t think that such a position was possible at this point.
He felt as though he were floating. There was nothing to touch him, and he felt cold. And yet he knew that he would not die. It was as though he was trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and he could not really move in either direction. He was curled up in a ball, his head tucked down on his knees as he just floated there.
There was only a small amount of warmth, and it was coming from a small feather that he held carefully in his hands.
This is so strange, he thought as he allowed the feather to rest on his heart. What am I waiting for? Who am I waiting for? Will anyone save me from this?
Suddenly, there was a sparkle in the corner of his eye.
“Huh?” He opened his eyes and waited. There it was again, the sparkle! So he hadn’t been imagining it. He turned his head and felt his mouth open in surprise. “What?”
Before him was a bright burst of sparkles, a small shadow that held no blackness in his mind. There was a stream of bubbling light pouring forth from it and Etoileon finally asked, “What is that?”
A voice called out to him. “Etoileon.”
“Hold on!” Etoileon called out. “Who are you?” He thought about trying to move his arms out and almost swim out to meet the glow, but still, he knew he could not move. He was too concerned about losing his bit of warmth, the feather he held tightly to his chest.
“I have many names, young Etoileon. A dear friend of yours, a friend of mine as well, knows me as Pegasus.”
“Pegasus?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are the one who saved me from the clutches of Obsidian,” Etoileon reasoned. “This is your feather.”
He could have sworn that he saw a smile in the midst of the light. Was there an actual person there? Etoileon wondered. His eyes squinted and tried to get a clearer picture of the light source. It called out to respond to his observation. “Yes.”
“Thank you. There is nothing I desire more in this world than to see the face of the one I love once again,” Etoileon admitted.
“I know. But what of the next world?”
“I can’t even think of it sometimes. I know about the Guardian,” Etoileon said. “And I know of you, his Spirit.”
“We watch out for you,” Pegasus’ voice told him. “We have watched out for you since before you were born, even before your father brought you to the Continent for his rebellion.”
“So I am the Son of Ammos?” Etoileon asked. “Surely Obsidian was not serious.”
“I tell you the truth. You are the eldest son of Ammos the Rebel, Etoileon, whether you like it or not,” Pegasus told him gently. “But the evil of your father was not passed on to you. Hate is something humans learn, and become addicted to. We have called you for a higher purpose in this life than the purpose your father had in mind for you. The day that you arrived from Jewel Island, you were lost in a crowd at Gemstone Oasis. The eclipse of your mind had to take place as well; so with that solar eclipse by Shira, your mind was purified of the dark memories for a time. Obsidian had corrupted your mind even at a small age, but we looked on you with love, and left your memories of your former life behind.” There was a softer characteristic in Pegasus’ soothing voice as he said, “You have had a hard life, young Etoileon. But I have been there with you all this time, waiting for you to answer our call.”
“I want to know you more,” Etoileon admitted. He was trying not to cry; his voice remained stoic. “And I know that you must love me. I can trust you. I know that you can help me, and the entire world. I believe in your power, your abilities, and in your love ... I have so for many years, I suspect. But I didn’t really see how much I needed it, how much I didn’t deserve it, until you saved me from Obsidian’s attack on my heart.”
SELENE FELT THE NEED to stifle a yawn as she headed down to the Great Hall for the evening meal. She knew that there would be no excusing herself tonight; it was whispered through the halls of the palace that this would be the last meal of the King. Selene couldn’t help but feel that these people were too eager to believe such things. Of course, the maids and bellboys probably didn’t know what Selene did—she had been guaranteed that the monarchy would hold its throne.
She had changed into a special gown for the occasion. For the dinner, she was resplendent in one of her signature white gowns, with a silver and gold embroidery trim. There was a gold and blue sash crossing over to her left side and pinned. It was a symbol of the Crown, and the members of the family wore it to only the most significant celebratory events. And Selene knew that the day before a Great Battle was considered to be among that list.
She and her handmaidens, all similarly dressed in an overcloak of white velvet and trimmed with golden threadwork, made their way down to the dining hall with an air of solemn acceptance. Though they tried to appear as though they were not troubled and everything was as normal as possible, they were all slightly on edge tonight.
Aura even showed up, her burgundy hair brushed back and piled up high. She was dressed in her own set of ceremonial robes, sewn with fabric colored a shining starlight blue.
Selene sat down in her usual seat, at Dorian’s right hand; as the heir apparent, she would hold the throne if he failed to come back for dinner again. She knew from their curious expressions that more than one of the food servers was wondering if they were going to be serving another ruler in the next couple of days.
Dorian entered, dressed not in his ceremonial outfitting but in his wartime apparel. He gave a kingly smile as he entered and sat down, before he turned to Selene and acknowledged her. “Sister,” he greeted her in a soft, warm tone. “I am glad that you are so eager to join us tonight.”
“Us?”
“Yes, some of the army generals and a few of my troops are going to be coming,” Dorian informed her as the water glasses were filled. He suddenly looked over at her and said, “Selene ... don’t let them see you falter.”
“I am in control of myself,” Selene assured him. “Just for you.” She gave him one of her twinkling smiles and sat back in her chair.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Dorian replied. “I was walking around the palace today, overseeing the progress of the work. It has really come along, I must say. If all goes well, it should be completely finished by the time I return from this battle.”
“Really? I thought they were close to getting done,” Selene laughed. When he caught her eye, she wondered if he was going to scold her for her rather appalling joke. Instead, a moment later, he started to laugh along with her. Nearly everyone watching had to be surprised.
“If it is one thing I wish I could have understood sooner, Sister, that you have taught me, i
t is that I am too serious sometimes,” he said after he had calmed down a bit. “As I was walking to come here, I tried to recall the memories of my youth, and I found that I had very little time for my own enjoyment.”
“You are a good king, Dorian,” Selene told him, her voice low. “But I would think that you would try to liven up your people as much as you try to improve their financial status conditions.”
“Now that will never happen,” Dorian joked lightly. “For I pay them too much already.”
Soon they were joined by the other men from Dorian’s lot of soldiers. Selene smiled at each of them, as they came by and took her hand in greeting. Some of them she could even remember from the days of her childhood. She would never forget Commander Kef, she thought with a small smile. Some of them even brought her small gifts. One gave her a rare coin with her picture on it, from the day of her birth. Another handed her a flower, picked from an area by the sea. Still another gave her a pure white handkerchief, with a tiny emblem of the royal insignia sewn into it. She thanked them and kept them close to her plate all throughout the main course.
The dinner was as lively to be expected; it was not the most joyous occasion to take place within the palace walls, but those that were present saw to keeping the smiles wide and as genuine as they could. Selene hated to hear about the war, but knew that she could not escape it forever. Still, as she listened to the polite talk of weapons and training, she couldn’t help but feel helpless. How could she help these men? What could she possibly do for them, these men that were to fight at dawn’s breaking? They were already going to lay down their lives for the way of life they had always known. Such a gift could hardly be earned, let alone appreciated to the full extent.
As the time went on, the warriors and the dinner atmosphere seemed to relax, and more and more natural laughter could be heard coming from the tables. Dorian and Selene both gave their share of comments and questions, as they told their stories and listened to others’ tales.
It was a surprise then, when the doors to the main hallway burst open and a man dressed with the armor of a general commander, flanked by his troop of guards, came inside with haste.
The man bowed on one knee to Dorian and said, “Your Majesties,” he nodded to Selene as well as Dorian, “I am Commander Rosemont, and I have come with grave news.”
“Rise, Major General,” Dorian gestured kindly. “Please, tell us of the news you have for us.” Dorian was focused on Rosemont, but for a flicker of a second, Selene thought that he had looked over in her direction. She wondered if he was thinking of her safety, or if she would be concerned for his.
Rosemont rose. “I have been informed of the moving of the rebel forces outside of the city. Their rainy-day celebrations have stopped, though the rain has not yet let up entirely. But their drunkenness has gone all of a sudden. They are moving at the command of their General, a man named Emanon. Their leader, that detestable rebel, Aemon, is currently in their makeshift battle headquarters, ordering that all the weapons be cleaned and prepared, the swords sharpened and polished to a shine.” Rosemont looked up at Dorian eagerly and said, “Just say the word, Majesty, and we could have a hundred missiles launched at their campsite, or anything else that you may want.”
“No,” Dorian spoke up. “No, we cannot bomb them. They are wise to have moved so close to the city; they know we cannot attack them without the possibility of killing any possible remaining civilians we may not know about. And anyway, it is too wet for the skyfighters to take off, it would be impossible to do any attack run at this point.” He looked thoughtful. “This world is unaccustomed to war. We are a peaceful people, and war has never been so attractive that we would fight in the rain. But now, that has to change. I suppose that stepping up prep time now would be a good place to start.”
Dorian stood up, and held up a hand to his guests. “We are to move quickly, men,” he said. “The time has come to ready ourselves for battle. We fight at dawn, but I tell you the time to get ready and prepare ourselves is now, while the rain is falling. Our enemies are doing such in preparation for us. Let us move out! To the Camp of the Crown!” With this, his held out hand became a fist, and he thrust it out, as though to signify force and strength. The men all rose and began to cheer for the kindness in service and company that had been shown them in the last few hours.
Dorian had pushed past his chair and was heading for the door with his troops behind him when all of a sudden his arm was grabbed out from behind. He turned, surprised, to see his sister hanging onto his arm, trying to follow him. There was an anxious look on her face, as though she was both terrified and curious at the same time. He sighed and halted. “Selene,” he started to say, but she cut him off.
“I want to go with you,” she pleaded. “Dorian, please. I wish to be with you. I am scared for you. I would feel better if I was near you to watch over you.”
He avoided looking into her beseeching eyes, which was probably why he managed to shake her off. “Please, Sister, it is no place for one as lovely as you. Stay in the palace, and wait for my return.” For a moment he just stood there, until he saw that her eyes were cast down low. He silently groaned once more, as he was starting to get strange looks from his men. But then he looked down at his sister, who had meant so much to him even from the time when she had just been that little baby curled up in his arms, and he smiled gently. He drew her into a hug, and held her head against his arm as he patted her back. “I will return in a short matter of time,” he promised. “Promise me that you will stay here.”
“Oh, all right, I will, Dorian,” Selene muttered reluctantly, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She waited until he had let her go and gone from the room before she headed off to the front balcony of the palace. She would wait in the palace, but nothing was going to stop her from seeing him off, she decided.
THE TIME HAD BEEN QUICK in passing. The rains had been reduced to a heavy sprinkle by the time evening had given way into early morning.
Selene was exhausted, but she could find no rest. Even with the thought of Pegasus, she knew that there would be little or no sleep at all for her. As she watched Dorian lead the troops and the Fighters out of the palace, she did not wave, or even smile. Letting the rainfall on her stoic face, Selene could not find any words for this time.
She now sat down at her bureau, looking past the reflection in the mirror; she had lost herself to a world of thought. All the wetness had gone from her skin, but the feel of the cold breeze on her cheek had not disappeared. The memory of the icy winds and the drizzle of the rains on her face and her hair only caused a long sigh to escape from her.
So this was the last night of tranquil peace in her city, she thought as she grabbed a nearby cloak. She was restless, even as she looked around her bedchamber. She wanted to go somewhere, do something.
Having no other clear ideas, she decided at length to go and see Etoileon in the medical ward. Who knew if she would get the chance to see him over the next couple of days or not? She’d best go see him now, when she had the chance.
Having dismissed her handmaidens and her governess for the night, Selene made her way silently through the halls of the palace. The unnatural quietness of her home disturbed her, but she made no attempt to make herself feel more at ease; she knew that such attempts would be fruitless in the end.
The medical section of the palace was filled with people, and at the moment, was the only area that was still working hard. Doctors, and nurses could not stop for anything, least of all a war. As she walked down the narrowing hallways, Selene saw many aids running around, preparing rooms for those that were no doubt to be injured in the Great Battle. She gave each of them a small smile as she sauntered on by, but they were so distracted and preoccupied that many of them did not smile or wave back. Several overlooked her presence entirely.
Finding her way to Etoileon’s bedside, she gave her first genuine smile since leaving the dinner table. Her unconscious friend was still not awake yet, but they h
ad given him the medications to help with his external wounds. There were only a couple of scratches on his body that had yet to heal completely. His broken bones had been set weeks ago, and were growing once more quite nicely. Recalling how lifeless and beaten he’d looked when she’d first burst into his hospital room in Silverton after the attack, Selene could tell that he would be well enough to begin training once again in only a matter of a few short weeks, if he would only wake up.
“Hi, Etoileon,” Selene whispered as she touched his shoulder. “The charts are looking good. It looks like you’re almost all better. When we were at Silverton together, you even woke up for a moment. I was so happy about that.” She delicately brushed his cheek with her hand. “You don’t have a fever anymore, it looks like. You know, the doctors said that they don’t really know why you’re not awake yet. I have a feeling that only one person I know could tell me, but he can’t tell me everything.”
She got up and walked to the door, peeking out of the nearby window there. She saw the campfires of Dorian’s troops burning, the trail of smoke winding its way up to meet the sky and then dissolve into nothingness. She turned back to Etoileon and sat down once more.
“Dorian’s been called off to war,” she murmured, not really understanding why she was still talking to him. “I’ll bet that you would want to be out there, fighting with him. I know you don’t really like him that much, but I do know that you respect him and you would fight to protect me. I know a lot of the soldiers and Fighters are out there. Ronal’s out there, too. I wonder if he’s thinking of you or Cyerra? I know that he is your best friend since you’d come here ... ” She gazed at his face, and she suddenly recollected how much Aemon had looked like him.
