Sword from the Sky

by R. Janvier del Valle

  “HAS THE PRINCE PASSED ON?” the woman asked with a harsh voice.

  “No, not in the least bit,” the royal guard said, confused as to her motives. “Torum, the Davinian Healer, has declared the prince stable for the time being, but he needs rest. May I ask who you are?”

  “No need for that,” the muffled voice replied. “I will return soon.”

  “I don’t see a problem with that,” the guard said, “as long as he is willing to visit with you.” The man, whose duty was to stand guard outside the prince’s room, seemed wary of the lady’s presence.

  “Oh, I’m confident that he’ll have an audience with me,” the lady said as her footsteps were heard first loud and then fading away. “I’ll be coming for everyone soon enough.”

  “Strange,” whispered the guard. What did she mean by that?

  In the meantime, Druuk, who lay sleeping in his designated room at the royal palace, had already been processing the voices in his mind. He flung his head from side to side, battling the temptation to stay asleep, but there was a need for him to wake up. His unconsciousness could sense things afoot, the foulest things, and he was desperate to make the connection with his waking self.

  At last his eyes opened, and he quickly realized he had taken ill and passed out. He recognized his room and that he had been sleeping for hours. Nevertheless, he woke up, and not because he intended to, but because the circumstances called for it.

  In his sleep, he recognized that mysterious, womanly voice who inquired about his condition, but as he dreamt and heard the voice, she appeared not as a woman but a beast: tall, inhuman, with dark eyes and long limbs. The beast’s hair bathed against the moon; this thing was no friend to the sun.

  He blinked his eyes and scanned the room. The prince’s chamber was located in the north tower of the royal palace, far above the main levels located to the west of the monumental building. Because it was night, the palace was dark, only sprouting a few hints of light throughout various rooms here and there. Druuk’s room had a sturdy lantern sitting atop a table next to the chambers’ spacious window. The room was bare except for a slew of books covering Druuk’s long and ample study desk. But the room was warm, not just in temperature, but in disposition; its character was warm. Druuk kept it that way. Druuk’s strong, virtuous spirit fortified the wellness of the area. He controlled the space around him, seen and unseen.

  He sat up. His alert being woke him up for a reason, and now it was time to seek that reason. He closed his eyes and let the wordless movement of the candle come into his mind. Druuk may not have been a Davinian warrior, but he was a master at the discerning of spirits; none other was above him in that respect. He could discern unseen darkness for miles and miles, all around him, from high to low.

  Time passed, and what he discerned could terrify the mind of the average person, but not him; he was strong in that manner. The room turned cold; he allowed it to. And his thoughts turned dark; he allowed those as well. From the depths of his being, he reached out into the abyss of space, and there he found strange things; they pricked him, like tiny needles running up and down the length of his back.

  Next, he sensed certain noises around him, like clicks popping off in various directions, as if there were people walking around him, but every time he turned to one of the noises, it was as if the noises had left that space, as if he had caught whatever was there just as it was leaving. All of the sudden, his thoughts turned to his son, and he silenced the space around him.

  Father! The scream pierced through the depths of his thoughts.

  Druuk threw off the blankets, quickly putting on his royal garments. Frantic, he searched around the room for something. He looked up and down his shelves and bookcases, but found nothing, and then he remembered, “Ah, yes!”

  He unlocked a small drawer located near the bottom of his study desk, taking out a small box covered tightly by a leather string. He put it in his pocket and made an attempt to leave the room, but not before he was overwhelmed by a whooping cough. He took out a small cloth and put it to his mouth to muffle the sounds. His son was in danger and now was not the time to be bogged down by his illness. Calm yourself, Druuk.

  He opened the door to his room, and the guard catapulted away from the door and straight into the wall in front of him. Scared senseless, he turned to Druuk, speaking while catching his breath. “You’re awake, my prince. You must have recovered. I didn’t know it would be so quick.”

  “Silence, guard,” Druuk said, hushing him with his hand. “No one must know that I’ve awoken. I’ll be stepping out for a moment. I shall return, but until then, no one goes into this room. No one must know I’ve left.”

  “But sire—”

  “Don’t question me,” Druuk said. “I haven’t the time for it.”

  “Yes, my prince.”

  “Now, tell me, who was that woman who inquired about me some minutes ago?”

  “What woman, sire?”

  “Don’t waste my time, guard! Regain your wits. I am inquiring about the woman who was here asking to see me.”

  “Sire, I know not of any woman. You’ve been asleep here for some hours, and no one has come to visit you except for Torum, who comes by from time to time to check up on you. I swear it to you, sire.”

  “Then whose voice did I hear just outside my room?”

  “I didn’t hear a voice, my prince. Maybe—”

  “What, guard?”

  “It could’ve been a dream? You were asleep, weren’t you?”

  Druuk took a step aside and pondered. That woman has invaded my thoughts. I was asleep; I was weak. It will not happen again.

  He turned to his guard. “I’m off,” he said. “Stay put, and remember, don’t let anyone in, not even Torum. No one must know I’ve left. I don’t need anyone coming after me. Tonight is a wicked night. It’s best to stay inside.” He started to move away from the guard but instantly thought of something else, so he approached the guard for the last time. “Be wary; steady your senses. If you hear noises, don’t wonder about them. Keep away from the shadows in the corners of the tower, and...don’t let the fog reach you.”

  “What fog do you speak of, sire?” the guard said as he tried his best to get an answer before Druuk made great haste in running away.

  After a sturdy effort, Druuk reached the bottom level of the tower and saw that the door that led outside was guarded by two oversized soldiers. Being the prince, Druuk knew if he gave the order, he could easily make his way outside, but his motives needed to remain secret, and thus there was no way that he could use his authority to persuade the guards to let him through...so, he did what he knew best and closed his eyes.

  The room turned cold, and the guards began to fidget nervously amongst themselves. “Burr!” one guard said. “I just got a chill.”

  “I feel it also,” the other said.

  The guards grew more paranoid by the second as Druuk’s eyes tightened.

  “I’m getting strange feelings inside me,” the first guard said.

  “You’re giving me strange feelings,” the other guard said, forcing himself to walk away from the door and to the window a few yards away. “Stop bringing me into your paranoia.”

  “What are you looking at?” the guard said who remained near the door.

  “Just wondering about is all,” the guard next to the window said. “Hey, what do you think of this fog?”

  “What fog?”

  “Come this way. See this fog outside. Looks like it just happened upon us.”

  The second guard stepped away from the door and to the window to attend to his friend’s curiosity. “What are you complaining about?” the guard said as he neared his friend. Taking a peek out the window, he spotted the nearing fog. “Ah, that is odd.”

  Druuk knew it was the right moment to make his move, and before the guards could turn around and take their places back at the door, the prince had already come and gone with only the breath of silence to speak of his presence.r />
  Outside, Druuk was alone and vulnerable. No matter. He was not afraid of the dark or of the fog that stood between him and Luca. Druuk’s manor was only a few miles from the palace. Many years before, when Druuk first acquired his home, he made sure to build a narrow but obvious trail leading from the palace to his manor. He did this in order for him and his beloved wife, Evie, to make their way from the manor to the palace in the cover of night. He knew the trail like the back of his hand, and there was no reason for him to be thrown out of his way once he took off in the direction of his home.

  He ran between shadows until he reached a small, unguarded stable that kept the horses belonging to the palace’s many servants. Druuk untied one of the horses from the long wooden pole that stretched from one end of the stable to the other, and mounted the horse.

  For the first fifty yards, he rode quietly, and when he hit the fifty-yard mark, the horse broke into a dazzling display of speed towards a darkened forest. Druuk noticed that he approached the emerging fog slithering towards the dark skies covering the palace, but it did not faze him in the least bit. To him, the fog was a mere nuisance, not an obstacle.

  When Druuk had traversed about a hundred yards into the bleak Bunish moors, he came upon the fog, rushing inside of it without the hindrance of fear. He met the gray-infested rolls of smoke engulfing him in all directions with a grin and a steadfast posture. Once consumed by the brutality of the fog, he could not see but ten feet in front of him, so Druuk came to a halt in order to get his bearings.

  On the ground, he could make out the gravel-lined path leading to his manor, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep to it within the darkness of the night. Yet, Druuk did not use his eyes to navigate through the fog; he sailed through the forest using a higher sense of direction. He continued with his march into the fog, and Druuk rode with a tremendous pace as he cut through the polluted mist, but something happened that he did not expect; it concerned the path on the ground that he had kept to since he began his trek towards rescuing his son. All at once, the path ceased to exist, and all that remained henceforth was rough terrain, like it had been newly dug up or disturbed. Someone had made an effort to destroy the path. Druuk yanked the reins of his horse, and the creature came to a screeching halt!

  Who would do such a thing? He searched high and low, to every corner and space surrounding him. He could not discern using his eyes; the fog made it impossible. He closed his eyes and read the mist of the grayish night. He stood in the voyeuristic gaze of the moon and discerned what encompassed him, seen and unseen. And he knew all things that were and were not, and because he was no fool, he spoke to the wind.

  “Come out and face me, disgraceful creature,” Druuk said to the darkness around him, but only silence was returned. “Come out! I demand it!”

  “What is it with men and their demands?” a voice from the fog said, followed by a childish cackle.

  “Come to me, child of the fog,” Druuk said as he steadied his horse.

  “So eager to see,” the child said, speaking with an imperfect grammar. “You are remarkable one, okay. I see why she loved you much.”

  Those words, corrupt and illiterate, ran through Druuk like the horns of a bull meeting its target. “What did you say, filthy one?”

  “I stated the obvious, master of words,” hissed the child, revealing himself to Druuk. The boy stood on his thunder horse; both the horse and the child were covered in blood-red armor. And the boy’s helmet, that of a pig’s head, was all too shiny and disturbing for the child to be anything but detestable. On the armored plate that covered his mouth was a disgusting grin as if he knew a secret but was unwilling to share it. On the boy’s hands, the stains of blood could be seen covering much of the armor.

  “You a master of the written are you not?” the child said, ending with that familiar laugh that earlier during the day haunted his fellow brother, Prince Drunen.

  “True. I am a scribe of Daví.”

  “So tell me, master of scribbly things, all right. What would you write of this moment, with me in front of you? What you scribble on scroll you keep in pocket? Would you tell truth?”

  “It would not be worth telling if it were not the truth.”

  “And what is truth, Davinian scribbler, okay?”

  “That the child on the horse would ultimately be beaten, for the child, though gruesome to behold, was still just a child,” Druuk said. “And you would be kind to address me as Prince Druuk of Hads. You’re in my lands, regardless of what grave you come from.” Druuk, now even more curious about the child’s motives, made an attempt to further inquire about the boy. “But answer me this: Why do you speak in such a poor manner?”

  “To ruin language, okay,” the child said, twirling around on his horse, as if excited. “If I corrupt language, no longer will it be beauty, all right. And Man no longer is beautiful. What is language, you see? What else separates Man from beasts? Why not corrupt language? Language is the product of the sun, and I hate, hate, hate the sun! Speak like the barren night!”

  “So you’re from the sunless land?” Druuk said with insight.

  “There is no such land!” the child said. “The sun cannot be destroyed, but it can be suffocated, and in my land, the sun is no longer in the sky. It’s wherever I wanted to be! I control the sun, and I shoved it in the deepest crevices known to me.”

  “And is this what you’ll do with our land?” Druuk said with the wisdom of a sage.

  The boy was caught by surprise by Druuk’s insight, and he became increasingly irritated by the prince’s formidable spirit. “Your questions bore me.”

  “Tell me, what do you know of Evehnieh? And why is that blood on your hands?”

  The child grinned like a jackal, letting out a drawn-out hissing sigh. “Tsk, tsk, you ask too much of me. No, I ask the questions. Yes, this is your land—for now, since there is sun, but soon will not. No matter, what truly troubles me is that you don’t remember me. Don’t you recognize me, prince?”

  Upon hearing the child’s words, Druuk forced his horse to take a step back, distancing himself from this strange boy, and he came to a realization. “Look at me, child,” he ordered. “I know who you are. I know—and you will not get to Luca, in this life or the next. You are as curved and evil as the beast that birthed you!”

  “Now that’s not pleasant” the child said as his horse reared and let out a high-pitched whine.

  “Tell me one thing,” Druuk said with authority, “what do you want with the boy?”

  “What he is about to be given,” the child replied in a serious, baritone voice. “And you won’t stop us from getting it! What will you do now, wordsman? Will you come chase me? I’d like that, you know. I’ll lead you out of the fog if you like. I’ll lead you straight to Luca, okay?”

  “No, child! Your arrogance confines you. Contrary to what you believe, I am the master of this fog. Come catch me if you can. But you are just a child.” Druuk grabbed his reins and turned to ride away, but not before bellowing out, “and I am the authority in this forsaken fog!”

  Those last words echoed around the child, sending him into a state of confusion while Druuk disappeared into the fog.

  “Come catch me, fool!” the prince yelled from afar.

  The child followed, and soon found out that Druuk needed no path or any sort of guide to make his way through the fog-bloated land. When he took after the prince, he could see but only just the horse’s rear and the dust that flew off from beneath its kicking hooves.

  “Come catch me, beastly child!” Druuk said as he kept heckling the boy.

  The deviled child on his horse could do no more but try to keep up with the master scribe. At first, the child gave out a few large chuckles, but after some time trotting behind the prince, all that was heard coming from the child was laborious breathing, and a few rumbling snorts escaping the horses’ nostrils.

  Druuk was in command. He neither cared nor worried about his illness and it showed, f
or he ordered his horse like a determined warrior in the shadows of the night. It would have seemed that Druuk galloped in an undetermined direction, but he knew where he was going. His mastery of the things around him allowed him to navigate through the muddled illusions of being; his sense of reality was past that of what he saw in front of him, which was just gray smoke, and it reached something much greater, which endowed him with the power to see above everything, to give him a bird’s-eye view of things as they truly were. Druuk did not navigate himself through a dense fog, but realized himself from one place to the next, watching from above, knowing from whence he started and where he would end—and where he would end would be next to his manor, but before he did so, he would be right in losing the child in the fog.

  The child, who followed Druuk with great success, was still a child, and being so, he was still unfamiliar with the mixing of the seen and unseen. He knew one world with wisdom and the other with ignorance. To know both was to truly know of things, and so even though the savage babe was doing a fine job keeping up with his prey, he knew that he would always be trailing behind as long as Druuk kept on his charge. And so he made a decision, one that would force him to slow his pace and give up the chase. The boy came to the awareness of the prince’s earlier prediction that he would not be able to catch the master, and figured he would leave to fight another day, but not before bellowing out a despicable scream. It was the scream of a demon bested by the light within the darkness, so grand of a yell, that it was sure to wake up all that slept in the land of Bune.