I watched the man and the specter at the corner with great curiosity. Tail flicking, I looked up and chirruped at my master in his white robe. The crows flew away, with the woman’s soul safely in tow. He looked down and smiled at me benevolently. The love in his eyes brought me joy. I flicked my tail and called to him again, turning back to see the man turn from the street corner. The master’s hand stroked my back, and I lifted my haunches for a scratch. The man was closer now.
“Go now,” said the master. “Go where I cannot.” I appeared as a dancing white flame before the man. I chirruped happily, bouncing on light paws. The man tilted his head at this, vision still clouded from tears. I bounded away down the sidewalk, and the man followed. He didn’t glance back this time. Didn’t run back to collect his love’s soul from the fairies that had come to escort her home. This time, he allowed me to lead him to a large, parked vehicle. A dark form lay slumped in rainwater. I had come to collect this poor creature’s soul, like my master’s children did for the people. Its specter curled protectively around a small bundle. The man couldn’t see into the darkness. I nuzzled the specter, giving it peace. It looked down longingly at the tiny shivering form, then returned my nuzzle and walked away to find my master. I pushed my snout then, into the belly of the small creature. I licked its face, waking it from a starved slumber. It cried, piteous. Weak and broken, it cried out. The man pulled a thing from his pocket and fiddled with it. A bright light poured through the darkness like water from a pitcher. He looked on in horror at the tiny form before him, reaching a hand out. The great meaty thing frightened the poor small one, but she had no strength left to fight or run. I chirruped and licked the small black shape again, calming her as the man scooped her into steady arms. He put out the light and put the thing back into his pocket. I emerged from the vehicle, bounced happily, and returned to my master’s side. The master smiled down again, the older cat in his arms. He knelt to tickle the top of my head. I purred softly, my back wiggling in delight. He spoke softly. “You have done well today, Pangur Ban. I’m sure they will be happy together. They will bring comfort to one another in their shared loss.” We followed them to a building, where they disappeared inside for a few minutes. They emerged, the man cradling the black kitten, a bag held in his other hand. I was very curious about the bag. What could he have gotten her? I looked up at my master, tentative. “If you wish to follow,” he said, “I will not deny you. Just know that I do have other appointments today. We can only stay so long.” We followed the man. He walked to a multi-level building and went up. I followed up as my master stayed behind. I became a ribbon of white on the wind, until I found the window that revealed the man and the kitten. I entered and watched from a bookcase as the man set out two small bowls, one with food, one with water. I chirruped again, and the man looked up, a soft smile on his sad face. He looked back down at the dark, unmoving lump on the floor, and stroked it with delicate fingers. He sat on the floor and lifted some of the food from the bowl with his fingers, putting it to the kitten’s lips. The kitten licked the food. Weakly at first, but as the food entered, she rose to her feet. She ate greedily, making happy slurping noises. “Thank you,” said the man. “I don’t know why you chose me. But thank you.”
1 Comment
She stared at me through the pouring rain, from under her polka-dot umbrella. Cars sped by in the night, the rest of the city quiet and mournful. The rains had come again, and with them, the monsters wouldn’t be far behind. They always came in the darkness. In the rain. In that space between happiness and vengeance.
“The hell are you doing?” I said. I already knew the answer. She looked at the puddle by her feet, “They’ll take me this time. I can feel it,” As I approached, the streetlights took on an eerie glow. They had come. Those creatures hidden in the shadows of our world. I shoved my hands in my pocket, pretending it would stop the chill that crept in with the slicing rain. I shrugged, “So, what am I supposed to do? If they take you? I guess I’m just supposed to move on with my life?” I felt a soft caress at my cheek, but it barely registered, looking beyond the rain and my tears, toward her guilty eyes, which were still aimed at the sidewalk. “Why should I expect you to move on, when I can’t?” Her question caught me off guard. I took a step forward, extending a hand. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed a crow that had taken refuge beneath an awning. Another joined it. Then another. Soon enough, there were six of them. It seemed they were settled there, staring at the two of us. An omen of death. She was right. They would take her this time. I breathed in deep, a sigh escaping my lips as a soft fog. My head lowered as I closed my eyes in resolution. My head hurt from holding back the tears. It wasn’t fair. It would never be fair. One accidental blink was enough. I could feel the tears now. Relentless as the rain above. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered, balling my hands in wet pockets. “It’s always been mine. They’ve always wanted you. I’m sorry.” I opened my hands, raising my gaze from the ground. Six dark figures surrounded her, arms outstretched. Their wings obscured her, but their faces all turned to me. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to take me, as well?” A smaller figure emerged from between the fairies, clothed in black, wings blossoming from her back. The umbrella was gone. Her familiar face now ashen and unaffected by the rain. She faded as she embraced me, a look of thanks in her eyes. Of course, I knew they wouldn’t. I turned away from the intersection. This would be the last time I would have to let go of her. I had held on so long, thinking it was for her. “I miss you.” I said, to the everchanging, unhearing city. I wasn’t strong enough to let go. But I couldn’t make her suffer any longer. Letting go was the best thing I could do. For the both of us. Wasn’t it? It was late that night. Later than Harvey had worked in a long time. And a particularly brutal shift if Harvey had anything to say about it. He took in a deep pull of breath, trying to reset. It ended with an extended sigh. Some days, decompression had to happen before the bad things would go away.
“Dude, I know,” Caleb Knight walked over to the time clock, punching out for the night. “That was rough. You know what you need, though?” Harvey grinned. “Only if you’re buying!” The two laughed, deep and clear. It was similar to the effect of skipping a stone on the lake. Harvey’s tension was broken. His attention drawn to the prospect of a cold beer. Suddenly, of course, he was hungry as well. If only that had come up earlier in the day. Caleb said, “Sure. I’ll buy you a beer. But you’ve got to sing tonight.” Harvey rolled his eyes. Caleb had been trying to get him to sing at karaoke nights for weeks. Or, hell, to even come out after work. There had always been an excuse not to go. Some reason that needed Harvey more. Maybe the kids needed something for a last-minute project, or the cats needed more food. Maybe his wife needed him to pick up lunch meat and pickles for sandwiches. “Damn, dude. You’re persistent.” “Hell yeah! You need to learn how to relax, my guy!” “I know how to relax,” Harvey protested, hoping he didn’t sound like one of the kids. Caleb appeared to ignore the half-whine as he finished clocking out. Harvey did the same, setting the alarm for the building. They walked out, Harvey locking the door behind them. A certain nervous dread prickled in his stomach as the neon lights of the bar across the street shone in the night. Across the parking lot from the bar sat a food truck. Tres Tios Taco Truck, to be precise. He’d bought from them after work from time to time, and they were pretty good. He’d need something on his stomach to keep the beer from affecting him so much. Crossing the street, Harvey veered across the parking lot. Caleb shouted something at him, but he returned the exclamation with a thumbs up. “I’ll catch up to you,” said Harvey. Approaching the window of the food truck, a guy leaned out slightly, his face smiling. “You want your usual?” Harvey chuckled. “Yeah. Eight carne asada, extra limes.” “I got you, G. Five minutes.” The guy nodded with a knowing grin. Harvey dug the wallet from his pocket and handed the guy the price of the tacos, plus a solid tip. These guys had never done him wrong yet. It was a thankfully warm night, too. Harvey put his hands in his pockets and, head down, sighed again. Three irate customers in a row was a new low for him, if he was being honest with himself. Some days, he had to admit, he’d rather be in a different place. Granted, if he was, would he still have friends like Caleb? “Yo, G!” the guy’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Had it been five minutes already? Harvey walked back to the window and accepted the takeout container. He opened the container as he walked across the lot, the heavenly odor of grilled steak and fresh cilantro and onions filled his nostrils, making him smile despite the salivation. He squeezed a lime wedge over one of the tacos as he walked to the bar’s door, then picked up the taco and bit in. The flavors mingled in his mouth, filling him with an indescribable sensation of warmth and home. In spite of the tobacco smoke and alcohol scents that assaulted him as he came into the main room of the bar. It was a small place, to be sure. About ten or so tables sat on carpet a few feet from the bar. Across a short wooden walkway that could be used as a dancefloor, if you knew what you were doing, was a set of tables attended by a pair of plush polyester sofas. Beside the sofas was a raised, carpeted platform. The bar itself was opposite the stage and surrounded on three sides by stools. Caleb was already on stage, singing some R&B song or other. He didn’t sound half bad. Harvey laughed to himself as he put his plate down. Someone whooped at Caleb’s crooning nearby, startling Harvey a bit. He approached the bar. The bartender looked him up and down, no doubt noting the uniform. She smiled. “What’s it gonna be, love?” “Corona with lime.” She nodded appreciatively and reached down into a cooler, coming back up with a bottle of the amber lager. She popped the top and pushed a wedge of lime halfway into the neck of the bottle before handing it to him. “You starting a tab, hon?” “Nah, I’m on Caleb’s.” “I just wanted to be sure.” “Thank you. I appreciate it.” The bartender winked. “My pleasure, hon.” Harvey shoved the lime wedge the rest of the way into the bottle and took his first sip. The cold beer seemed to loosen something within. Some internal emotional net that had been stretched nearly to breaking. He took another sip, noting that the effect was not cumulative. It was just a primer. He’d have to let go the rest of the way by himself. Caleb finished his song and came down, light beer in hand. They clinked bottles, and both took a large swig. Harvey was preparing to sit, but the DJ called his and Caleb’s names, so he set his beer on the table, laughing. “Told you!” said Caleb. “Oh, and no worries. We’re doing Weird Al!” Amish Paradise ended up being three and a half minutes of pure hilarity, as the men traded off singing and rapping to the music. It certainly worked to clear Harvey’s mind. A face seemed to float nearby his table. A face he recognized. Summer Pernell. Brown hair, green eyes, and an infectious smile. His first love. Coming down from the stage, Harvey could barely hear the cheering of the patrons, or the DJ calling up the next person to sing. Harvey shook his head, thinking he was imagining Summer’s face. Her smile wasn’t as bright as it had once been. Caleb clapped Harvey on the shoulder and sauntered up to the bar, his deep, heavy laughter a nice backdrop in the din of the bar. Harvey sat in front of his beer and tacos, nodding to Summer politely as he picked up another taco and ate it, with somewhat more trepidation than the previous one. A third taco went down without so much hesitation before he washed it down with a long drink from his beer. “That was hilarious,” she said. She took a drink from something he could smell from across the table. Whatever it could be, it was much stronger than beer. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red-rimmed. “Thank you,” Harvey replied. “Still don’t know why I let that knucklehead drag me out here tonight.” “Didn’t know either of us were coming out tonight,” she said. His eyes narrowed, but he focused the look on his plate of tacos. “Neither did I. I honestly never thought I’d see you again.” “Aren’t we still friends?” “That’s up to you, Summer. That’s what you asked me for; to just be friends. I haven’t heard anything from you in over ten years, though, so I can’t say I’m exactly sure.” “To be fair, you took the breakup kind of hard. I just didn’t want to make things more awkward.” Taking another drink, Harvey swirled the bottle in front of his face for a moment. “I’ll admit, I did take it hard. It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.” He smiled sadly as he drained the bottle of its remaining liquid. “And I could’ve sworn you knew. Being awkward is my superpower.” She deflated. “Do you hate me for it?” That was supposed to be funny. He shrugged, “I don’t feel like I really got closure on the whole thing, but that’s on me and my whole awkwardness thing. Everything good with Spencer?” “Yeah,” she said, looking down into her glass. She took a long drink of the strong liquor. There was clapping as the person on stage finished their rendition of some Country song. Summer’s tone struck him as unconvincing, as she tucked her feet under her on the sofa. Like the way she used to sit on the sofa at his parent’s apartment when she went over with him for taco night. He smiled at the memory. She said, “Do you ever wonder what things could have been like?” “Hold that thought,” Harvey said. He hadn’t been prepared for the question and needed a moment or two to think through a response. Grateful for the accidental excuse he’d given himself, Harvey walked back over to the bar, depositing the empty in a trash bin set out for the purpose, and asked for another beer. The bartender winked at him again, handing it over, lime and all. Caleb gave him a thumbs up, and a ‘next song’ motion. Harvey chuckled and shook his head. If they only knew. Returning to the table, he sat, taking a drag on the beer. He finally said, “Occasionally. But I see why things wouldn’t have worked out that way, too.” Summer’s face twisted, “What do you mean?” Harvey pointed his bottle at her. “Forgive me for assuming, but you seem upset about something, and it’s a pretty big something. Am I wrong?” She seemed so much smaller than he remembered. “It was a pretty big argument.” He said, “Well, there’s your answer. You’re not her, and I’m not him. Of course, things would have been different. I can guarantee you we’d have had something just as big to argue about. Hell, I think my wife and I had a big blowout just a few days ago. We were able to come to terms, thankfully. After the infatuation stage, who knows if it would have even lasted between me and you, though. And then, we wouldn’t even be able to be friends.” Summer held the glass in both hands, rubbing her thumbs into the condensation on the sides. She said, “So, you’re okay with the way things are?” Harvey shrugged, “Everybody wonders, especially about their first relationships. I’m an emotional realist. Emotionally, I wonder what we could’ve been together. I consider, and question, and imagine scenario after scenario where things worked out between us. Then, the logical side kicks in. What if you never wanted kids? I’m happy as a dad. What if your parents were just like you said, and tried to drive us apart? And, what if, in spite of all that, we realized one day five years in that we just…didn’t fit?” Summer’s silence before Harvey’s string of rambling made him stop to reconsider what he meant. The words had all sounded right, but it somehow settled into a pit in his stomach. Like the way things ended had left no room for anything, forgiveness included. Harvey didn’t want that. The words didn’t match the sentiment he was trying to convey. He finally said, “Point being, I’m okay with how it turned out.” “And if I needed a place to stay tonight?” “Yeah, I got you,” he said. Her eyes widened at the quick response. “Just like that? No questions, no explanations?” “I can’t say my wife won’t have a few questions. And the kids might have a question or two in the morning. But no; you don’t need to justify yourself to me. I’m just happy to help.” She stared into her glass, face red. “Thank you. But, what about Spencer?” Harvey chuckled, “Yeah. He’ll probably have questions, too.” The DJ called Harvey and Caleb back to the stage. When he saw the song choice, he cringed. They’d be singing a rendition of Shai’s If I Ever Fall in Love. He ignored the fact Caleb called it the ‘panty dropper’ of the night over the microphone. Then rolled his eyes at the antics as they traded off the verses again. When they were done, the patrons cheered again, whooping at them. The next person up had chosen Spanish Guitar by Toni Braxton. It would have been fitting, were Harvey and Summer ten years in the past, still exploring their feelings for one another. As it was, however, it was enough to just enjoy the somewhat off-key interpretation of a woman six or seven drinks down, as she warbled out as many lyrics as she could read on the prompt screen. Summer finished her drink as Harvey got back to the table, slipped her shoes back on and went to the bar to get another. Harvey ate another taco, washing it down with a drag on the beer. It was all starting to make him rather satisfied inside. There were still four tacos. He could easily eat them all, but he suddenly felt uncertain about the situation at hand. Summer returned, slipping back out of her shoes so she could sit back on the sofa as she had been before. He glanced at the fresh glass of liquor. “If you drove here, you’re going to have a hard time after two of those. Did someone bring you here?” She shook her head. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess I was going to call an uber.” Harvey hated the thought in his head. “I know you asked for a place to stay, but that randomly became an option because I got lured by tacos and beer. I don’t want to pry, but I need to know, is there a reason you’d feel unsafe to go home?” Shaking her head again, she said, “No, we just… we were going to need space tonight. He’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight too. We just needed some time to calm down, and I’d rather not be there by myself.” Harvey slid the plate of tacos to her. “I’m going to bring my minivan from across the street, and we’ll go.” “I can go now,” said Summer, taking a long swig of her drink. I am not going to have her drunkenly traipsing across the damn street. Harvey pointed at her, “Finish your drink, eat some tacos. I got you.” “Look at you, going ‘dad mode’,” she laughed. He smiled, “I’ve heard I’m good at that.” As he approached the door, Caleb called out, walking over. “Yo, dude! You out?” “I’m about to be, but I need to bring my minivan over. Summer needs a ride home.” Raising an eyebrow, Caleb got a strange look to his eye. “Oh yeah? Y’all on a first name basis, I see. Ain’t you married?” Harvey rolled his eyes and walked out the door into the warm night air. A few minutes later, Harvey pulled his minivan into a spot in the bar’s parking lot. Returning to the building, everything was as it had been, but Summer had a much calmer look about her. And, the tacos were gone. Harvey nodded to her, and walked over to the bar, pushing several dollars into the tip jar. Turning, he said, “Okay, Caleb. Now I’m out.” Caleb nodded. “That was fun, homie. We gotta do this again.” “We’ll see,” said Harvey, chuckling as they shared an elaborate handshake. “Stay safe. I’ll see you at work.” “Yep,” Caleb raised the nearly empty bottle of light beer in salute. “Another wonderful day of it tomorrow.” Nothing felt different as Harvey and Summer walked out into the parking lot. And yet, somehow, everything felt different. Like some page he’d dogeared had finally been read. Granted, it was a page of the choose-your-own-adventure variety, so it still didn’t have any real closure to it. Funny how closure worked that way. Willem’s toes gripped the soft loam of the forest floor. His companion huffed with exertion at the hill’s incline. He smiled back at her as they continued. It wasn’t his fault she wore such fine shoes to hike through the forest.
“Where are we going?” she said. Grinning, he said, “Not much farther, love.” “We’ve been walking for miles, Willem. I need a real answer.” Willem fought not to laugh, “You begged me to take you to my favorite place…” “I was expecting something marginally closer to the village, dear.” He chuckled. “Elvia, love. As many places as I’ve been in this world, and you expect my favorite place to be near the village? No.” They walked through the surrounding forest; alive with the sharp, lemony aroma of shedding pines. Two squirrels squeaked as they wrestled on a nearby branch. Birds abundant called to one another, flittering to do as they would. The trickling of water greeted his ears just as he expected it. He smiled, taking her by the hand and leading her through a break in the trees. The dirt beneath his toes was replaced with stones. The winds of the shore pulsed through the short cavern, water whipping into Willem’s face in an incessant rush. When Elvia hesitated, he pulled her through the miniature squall. On the other side, she spluttered and cursed at him for a short time. Until he released her hand, placing a gentle finger on her chin. He turned her gaze away from him and was rewarded with a gasp. “Oh, divines…” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful. So peaceful. How did you know of this place?” “It,” he hesitated. “This was the place Master Beth brought me to train. It holds a special place in my heart.” “But didn’t you—” “Yes, love. I took her life. It almost destroyed me. I’ll never forget her betrayal, or her blood on my hands. But if not for her, I’d have died in the village. Alone in the quiet darkness.” “I just wish you could see this.” “Paint it for me with your words?” “I don’t think I can do this justice.” Willem sat on a familiar smooth stone, laying back luxuriously as he smirked at her. “Just do your best and let me enjoy the sound of your voice.” “There are so many colors across the sky. Like the finest silks, bejeweled with precious stones. Efil’s body sits on the horizon behind a mountain of clouds, daughter Achiel observing her mother’s governance. A ring of bright colors surround them. The eternal blue of the sea is an unbroken mirror, reflecting Efil’s grace back to her, like a royal gown.” He touched her hand. “Indeed, you’re right. That is immensely beautiful. And yet—” “Yet what? Was it not enough?” She stiffened and turned. He held firm to the hand, squeezing it reassuringly as she slapped her other hand to her mouth in shock. He placed a second hand on top of the hand he held, drawing her in. “The beauty of a deity is too far away to be enough for a man with no eyes. The beauty of a mortal woman with a good heart has no equal, challenging the seat of divinity. There is no silk softer than the locks of your hair. No jewels more precious than these eyes that look upon me with love instead of fear. Your voice contains all the colors of the skies and more. Your soul is a mirror in and of itself, eternally reflecting the beauty within. A prism of strength and goodness. They claim the sun is Efil herself. Her light is dusk in the dawn of your laughter. Her warmth like the frozen peaks of Morag Treasa to your smile. What idiots with eyes ignore, you allow my heart to see.” The pulse in Elvia’s hand beat a fluttering rhythm through his fingers as she pulled in a breath to hold. He sat up as she leaned in, the heat from her face brightening his smile. She gave a soft kiss. “I love you,” she whispered. He pulled her into a deeper kiss. They broke as she adjusted to lay on top of him, her head resting on his chest. “Then hold me,” he said, lifting her face to kiss her again. “And never let me go.” Marvin forced himself into the dark room filled with rows of broken tables and spilled, rotting food. And blood. A lot of it. No bodies yet, though. He lowered his rifle and pulled a pistol, raising his now free hand to breathe into a sleeve. He followed the dark, dried streaks to the door leading into the kitchen and gave the door a gentle push.
It was too much to take in. Too much to process. He was reasonably sure all the researchers must be dead. That crazed scientist had been thorough. Too bad Marvin hadn’t stopped the man before he’d shot and killed Brice. Bile sat in his throat, daring him to breathe in too deeply. He backed out of the kitchen. Marvin shut his eyes and pulled in slow breaths, concentrating on how it felt walking barefoot on the cold earth back home on his parent’s farm. It always calmed his body to remember when he was just a boy, working in his family’s fields. His thoughts brought back to him the soft, sulfuric smell of nearby corn plantations, washing over him with a breeze under the hot sun that baked and bronzed his skin. Fortified, Marvin escaped death’s stench into the salty, wet air of steel walkways, suspended over the depths of the mountain’s bowels. He let an unspoken prayer escape his thoughts into the cold, stale air. He smiled, spotting Seren leaning on a railing near the elevators leading to the hot labs deep below the facility. He was proud of the young doctor. She was holding up well, considering. He strode across the catwalk. She looked up, eyes red and puffy. Her mouth was twisted, and her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such a mixture of consternation and fear. Marvin said, “What’d you find?” Her frown deepened with the dark look in her eye. “You’re not going to like it.” His face contorted. “We’re infected, aren’t we?” She nodded. It wasn’t so much a matter of if they would change. More a question of when. He snorted, grinning. “So, what’s the bad news?” A concrete-muffled gunshot emanated from the infirmary compartment, where Hakim and Emmerich had been. Marvin set his jaw, lifting his rifle to aim across the expanse. “Set the timer and run. We were sent to keep you alive, anyway.” Hakim burst through the infirmary door and attempted to duck left as a bullet struck his leg, dropping him to the floor. Another shot missed him, the bullet whipping past Marvin’s head and embedding in the central compartment’s wall. Marvin shoved Seren toward the doorway and started running the other way. Kyle emerged from the infirmary door a moment later, predatory, with his gun in hand. “Do it and run!” he shouted. Marvin hated the icy feeling that crept into his mind as Hakim attempted to retreat. Kyle was already on him, however, and lifted him with mechanical ease. A shot echoed through the cavernous darkness and Hakim fell still. Kyle gave a small push, letting Hakim’s lifeless body fall into the deep black below. He swung his gun around to aim at Marvin, who stopped cold, just a few feet away. “Don’t you hear her voice?” Kyle said with a grin. “Not like this.” Heat behind his eyes, Marvin trained his sights on his best friend’s head. “When she died, the commander left us. She’ll break the world, give him a new purpose. She requires our deaths.” Marvin screamed. “I can’t lose you like this, dammit!” Kyle took a shot; the bullet punched into Marvin’s chest. Marvin caught his footing, feeling his chest tighten. There wasn’t a choice, but at least his friend wouldn’t die alone. The self-destruct alarm sounded. Marvin rushed in, slamming into Kyle. They hit the iron railing and slipped over the cold metal. The abyss accepted them. As they plummeted, Marvin spotted Seren running toward the front doors. He knew he’d made the right decision. He felt a peculiar bloodlust and knew the virus was taking hold of him. He thought one last time of home as the darkness rushed by him, and the world fell silent.
But here she stood before a dragon and his avatar. She had no idea what powers the ancient Kana might have bestowed upon Isabelle. She only knew she might not be prepared to face it.
“Is there still a path to peace?” Onora choked out between held breaths. Isabelle shook her head. “For you, perhaps. My master has an interest in your ability with the sword.” What the what, now? “As for this village. I ask that you stand aside, protectors.” Isabelle closed her eyes momentarily, bowing her head as if in prayer. The scales of her armor began to glow with an ethereal blue light. Onora grasped her sword’s hilt and watched in amazement as a gleaming blue blade seemed to appear from a ripple in the air in front of Isabelle. Onora and Max lunged forward, each striking at Isabelle. With a flash of light from her armor, she seemed to materialize to the side, parried Max’s blade into Onora’s and punched Max in the face. Isabelle shoved Max into Onora, and the two of them fell in a heap. Max leaped to his feet, thrusting his sword. Isabelle slapped the thrust away with a gauntleted hand, and grabbed Max by the throat. Isabelle’s eyes seemed to darken several shades, becoming a much more saturated and vibrant red. Max gurgled, trying to scream as sapphire light poured from his body, and became part of the sword in Isabelle’s hand. If she didn’t know any better, the sword seemed to glow just a shade brighter. Isabelle scoffed, “As I said before child. I offer you peace, if you stand aside.” “I,” Onora stammered, “can’t stand aside. I am forbidden by the code of the protectors.” Isabelle shook her head again. “Then just like your friend, you are choosing death. His end was unfortunate. Yours is simply wasteful.” Onora took a shaky step forward, steeling her body, because her nerves and emotions would not still. Max had been her best friend. More like a younger brother. She’d taught him the sword. It hadn’t been enough against Kana’s powerful avatar. Isabelle had killed the plucky young hero without the slightest effort. Isabelle sighed. “Very well,” she said. “I will allow you to fall on my blade for your village. My master wished to grant you power, and yet you refused. In the end, little girl, your village will burn. It will burn as bright as your defiance.” Onora stood, brandishing her blade. She had been chosen as a protector of the village, because of her defiant tendencies. Kana roared. Despite being outdoors, the sound was like a deafening crash of stones and steel in a dark cavern. Onora felt something stir within. A strange, unfamiliar energy. Blue light streamed from Isabelle’s sword, covering Onora, forming into scales. Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she turned to face Kana. Kana settled, watching with steely, glittering azure eyes. Isabelle turned back, her face scrunched. Her ruby eyes narrowed at the blue scaled armor settling on Onora. “For now,” said Isabelle, “it appears we share the power. The master wishes for an even battle. I will serve Kana in this.” Onora swallowed a lump. This would be the hardest fight of her life. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on [Patreon] for early access to content, as well as relevant behind the scenes updates, and more. Thank you all, I look forward to serving you quality content. Please enjoy this week's story.
As Ruben moved to take a cutting of the summer blooms, he thought of his son, Hiram. When he returned, he’d have to teach the boy botany. There was so much to teach, and so little time. Of course, the child being only three, it wasn’t yet time. A soft, small sound drew his attention. He turned about several times on the forested trail, squinting into the trees on either side of him. Against his better judgment, he stepped from the road, searching until the sound grew clearer.
It took several minutes, until he came upon a clearing, and the sound that greeted him was the sobbing of a kneeling maiden. She was clutching a bow, and covered in a spattering of blood. Her hair was a bright copper, and her skin appeared to have lost much of its color and luster. She was crying over a woman’s broken body, dressed in what Ruben deduced as the attire of a noble. A darkened crimson path extended through the clearing to the southern tree line, and continued up a hill. As Ruben approached, the maiden stumbled backward, startled at his approach. A bundled cloth was revealed by her movement, and it wriggled and squirmed. After a few moments, he could hear the girl’s voice as a faint murmur. “He’ll find me here. No, no, I can’t let him catch me.” Ruben knelt, “What are you on about?” “The prince has gone mad. He’s killed them all.” He said, “Of Aculas, to the South? Who is this woman?” “His sister, the queen. I was supposed to protect her. I’ve failed.” Ruben wasn’t sure what to say. There was the sound of a horse, ever so gentle on the afternoon air. The maiden startled, and reached to gather the bundle into her arms. She sobbed, pleading, “This child, he must live. He’s the only child of Lord Garran.” “Come then. Let’s get you somewhere safe. What’s this child’s name?” The sound of a blade being drawn seemed to spark something in Ruben, and he turned to see the dark armored horse with its equally adorned rider. Purple spiked armor, and a flowing black cape. This armor had been spoken of in many towns and villages. It marked the rider as none other than Lord Kaizer, the youngest prince of Aculas castle. He wore no helmet, his short black hair offset by an intense, pale face. His sword, equally as storied, was rumored to have been fashioned in one of the eastern provinces, within a mountain that never sleeps. The black rocks of that mountain had somehow been folded into a steel blade, leaving the edges jagged but sharp. It was fabled to always be cold to the touch. Ruben cursed himself for the measly chain shirt as he stared at the dull black sheen of Lord Kaizer’s sword. He stood and stepped between the prince and the maiden, as he drew his own remarkably ordinary blade. Kaizer said, “You wish to seal your fate, traveler? You stand before the King of Aculas castle with your sword brandished. Or, are you as foolish as my brother?” Ruben swallowed the fear that began creeping in with an unnatural chill that began to permeate the sunny clearing. “And you face Ruben, a knight of the great kingdom of Lachsten.” Kaizer said, “There is no name that benefits the deceased.” Ruben planted his feet, and positioned his sword. He watched as Kaizer spurred his horse, racing down the hill with its crimson trail. Ruben felt his stomach drop at the imposing figure of the prince, as it hurtled toward him, cape billowing from the rush of wind. He almost jumped when he heard the twang of the bow. Ruben watched as an arrow sliced through the air. It found its home in the eye of the horse, which tumbled in a thrashing heap of sinewy muscle. Kaizer, however, had leaped from its back, and landed, rolling with a clatter of armor and a great upheaval of earth in front of them. He lunged, thrusting his sword behind Ruben to strike at the maiden. Ruben parried the thrust and returned a thrust of his own. Kaizer swiped the blade with little effort, and moved his head from the path of an arrow. Ruben attempted another swing, and this time Kaizer twisted the swords and pushed, pinning Ruben’s sword into his left shoulder. The chain shirt held, thankfully, but the pain was real enough. Ruben understood now. Something about this situation spoke to him on a primal level. “Run, girl! Take the child North to Lachsten!” She picked up the child and ran toward the road. Ruben hoped that Kaizer would, at the very least, not be able to follow her once she got far enough away. All he could hope for was to stall for a time. Regardless of price, Ruben rested his hopes on the maiden, and the child she protected. He had to slow Kaizer down, if only a little. Kaizer rushed forward, swiping at Ruben’s sword hand. In desperation, Ruben moved forward, catching the King’s blade with his own. He grabbed his enemy’s sword hand, twisted and dropped his weight. This had the desired effect, as they both fell and rolled into the grass around them. Ruben felt several waves of pain through his back, as Kaizer punched with the spiked gauntlet. Ruben rolled, snatching his sword, and jumped to his feet. Every movement was agony, but he steeled himself, because the battle could not be over yet. There hadn’t been enough time. He saw Kaizer still on a knee, glaring at him. He struck toward the King. Kaizer grinned, catching the blade mid-swing. He didn’t seem to mind the cut to the palm. Instead, he shoved his other hand forward, seizing Ruben by the throat. “Here you are, fighting like one of Hildashar’s Blood Knights. Are they not your rivals? I should have known better than to underestimate one trained by Aimon of Lachsten. You’ve got some skill.” Ruben struggled, but he saw white spots and felt the throb of his pulse behind his ears as the King squeezed. Kaizer kicked into Ruben’s knee. If he could have screamed, he would have. What parts of his leg weren’t numbed by the attack felt as if they were on fire. Kaizer punched into Ruben’s gut, the spikes of the gauntlet piercing through the chain, knocking the rest of the air from his lungs. Ruben was tossed to the side, a warm moistness spreading across his torso. Ruben sputtered, choking as he turned to see Kaizer retrieving the jagged black sword from where it sat in the grass. He felt confused as the prince stood there, seeming to stare into his eyes with all the fury of Hell. “I’m impressed, Ruben of Lachsten. You put up a better fight than my brother, vanquisher of the last Oberstruthian warlord Bruich. Ender of the war of Hrotska plain, and eldest son of our father Allende. Pick up your sword then Ruben, knight of Lachsten, and obtain the peace of the grave.” Kaizer waited a few moments, as Ruben tried in vain to draw a deep breath. He broke the silence by placing the tip of the jagged black sword onto Ruben’s chest. “If you would rather die like a coward and peasant,” said Kaizer, an icy fog escaping with his breaths. “You will be left in this field to rot with my dear brother’s wife. I would assume that’s not a fitting end for a warrior of your talent.” Ruben forced himself to move, breathless, snatching at the hilt of his steel salvation. He pushed the blade into the ground, and used it to steady himself enough to stand. He stared into Kaizer’s cold blue eyes. Ruben understood then, why Kaizer had stopped so long. This was entertaining for him. Chasing the girl was pointless, she was going to die anyway. The pallor of her skin, the amount of blood about her. She was likely bleeding from an infected wound, and she was exerting herself. Ruben felt a perverse admiration for this strategy. The child was likely to die not long after the girl. It was a doomed rescue from the beginning. Kaizer was an apex predator, using finesse and strategy as opposed to raw strength; chasing his quarry at a methodical pace, forcing her to die by way of faith and struggle. He had wielded her hope as a more fatal weapon than the evil looking blade clutched in hand. This was the man townsfolk of the southern fields had joked about, referring to him as the prince of crypts, not believing a man of his station could have killed so many men in combat at such a young age. Ruben had also met a few, however, that Kaizer had met on the battlefield. These had returned to their villages and their provinces; and they would tell tales of how he devised the strategies that brought the warlords of Oberstruthe to their knees in the War of Hrotska. They would tell of the man who rode through their town with the severed head of Ynorr, Arch-Mage of the Runes. It was clear to Ruben, staring into the calculating eyes, that these rumors, jokes, and stories held a frightening truth. Kaizer’s black blade flickered a moment, and a biting cold swept up Ruben’s body. Looking down, he could see his legs encased in a thick covering of ice. When he turned his head back, the last thing he saw was piercing blue eyes being eclipsed by the blurring black blade swinging to meet him. The glassy stone-laced steel hit Ruben, the jagged edge biting and tearing. Kaizer withdrew his ice from Ruben, allowing the headless body to fall to the ground. He stared into the trees. The maiden would die on the way to Lachsten. He wondered, however, if someone would happen across the body before the scavenging animals did. If they did, then his nephew would likely survive. Either way, the child was not a threat, and so pursuit was no longer necessary. Aside from the child who would remember nothing of this day, all who could challenge his rule were now dead. That was enough for one day. Once Ruben’s death was discovered, he would be challenged by many foolish knights. Many men would come, thinking that they could dispose who they believed to be a false King. Until the prophecy Ynorr had cursed him with had been fulfilled, he would wait in patience for such victims, the harbinger of death that they would seek. He would tend the crypts, and the grounds of his castle would be littered with the corpses of false bravery. Perhaps that was why Kaizer allowed his nephew’s life to continue. One day, perhaps the boy would learn of his history, and would come with true bravery to find his King. Kaizer imagined watching the last rays of hope leave this world, through the glassing over of his nephew’s eyes. Ynorr’s prophecy was marred by its need of a warrior with a pure heart. Kaizer almost laughed, as he knew, no such thing could exist. Purity and war cannot exist in the same soul.
It was another one of those days, thought Steven, as he sat at the kitchen table absentmindedly scrubbing the barrel of a pistol. The two others he’d already cleaned sat to his right, a light shine to the dark metal. He was hopeful the glow from the light over the stove kept him from waking anyone up as he continued into the night. Without looking at the clock, he assumed it was around three in the morning. He considered for a moment, how clear everything had felt a few months ago. It seemed, at least to him, that everything was simpler when you had a mission. It was easier to live with a mission at hand, and realized that was why his life before the Incident had felt so dull. Once you’ve felt helpless enough to realize you had to be your own hero. That was the moment you understood that every decision carries life and death within it. Treating safety as the illusion--and danger as the norm--felt more enlightening than it should have. It always made him wonder now, if the trauma of watching his father bleed to death on a sidewalk in Chicago had made him crazy enough to need this feeling of preparedness. The understanding that he needed to have more skill in violence than anyone who could confront him, that is the thought he questioned, as it continued to bring him peace. In a sense, if sitting up cleaning guns in the middle of the night could be called peace.
“You’ve turned this into a ritual,” she said after taking a sip of water. “It’s more than a habit for you, this means something more than I can comprehend. I get that.”
“I had a dream,” he said, not looking at her. “A nightmare, really. I met death, only he was wearing my dad’s face. He told me that I’m in more danger now, than I was the day of the Incident.” The pistol was assembled and polished now, its open body gleaming in the darkness. Steven knew now that he must be crazy, not only to be having such vivid dreams of impossible things, but the fact that he just blurted it to Grace as though it was something a normal person could dream. Right, he thought, define normal. He took a deep breath as his chin began to quiver. His tremble threatened to wash away his empty stare, and he put his face in his hands. He knew it was okay to show his weakness here, in the quiet kitchen across from his beloved. But, knowing it didn’t help him to open that grief, not yet anyway. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had it,” she said, still quiet, “I’ve heard you talking to him in your sleep.” He looked, but she was moving again, this time she went to one of the cabinets and rooted around in it for a bit. She came back with a chocolate bar. She tossed it down in front of him and leaned in, placing warm lips on his cold neck. He felt the tingle of her kiss as it traveled down his spine as a pleasurable tickle. She sat back down, opened a chocolate of her own, breaking off a piece to chew. She motioned at the bar while he looked at it in blank shock. “You can’t keep this up forever,” she said, a seductive tone to her voice as she popped another piece of chocolate into her own mouth. “Trust me, babe. It’ll help.” Steven fumbled at the wrapper for a moment, his thoughts still racing for understanding along a fogged path through distant forests. As he placed a piece of chocolate in his mouth and let it begin to melt on his tongue, it did bring a bit of a smile to his face. Here she was, not even a day after asking someone else to talk to him about his obsession, taking care of it herself. He recognized meaning in her name, as he could never have earned or deserved everything she was and meant to him. “I know how stressed out you are,” said Grace, “but you can cut back, and stop over-thinking everything by yourself. You’re not alone anymore.” “But that’s the worst thing about it.” Steven said, almost abandoning the chocolate in front of him. “I finally have what I wanted all my life. Family and friends, that’s something I’ve craved ever since I got sent to Blue Rock. Now, I have it. I finally have something worth losing again, and I can’t go through that again.” “Honey—” “I can’t. I’m not strong enough to lose it all again; and so, I’m hoping that by being so ready, I never will lose it.” He was taken back as she crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair and breathed so deeply, he thought she’d forgotten how. “Then don’t,” she said, carefully measuring her tone. “Don’t lose us. But don’t you dare lose yourself while you’re at it. Of all people, you know that there is no limit to how dangerous or how bad things can get. You’ve already over-prepared. It’s time for you to get back to me, to your life, and go with the flow. “Otherwise,” she pointed to the engagement ring on her finger, “what’s the point in marrying me, if you’re going to seclude yourself from the relationship?” “You make it sound so easy,” said Steven, “i don’t know how to stop myself from thinking, though.” She picked up her half-eaten chocolate again, waved it, “You can start by finishing your chocolate.” “And then?” he said as he broke his chocolate bar into more manageable pieces and began shoving them in his mouth. He swallowed the last one before he noticed the mischievous grin that had crossed her face, as she glanced around the kitchen. She stood and moved over, bending enough to shove her lips onto his. She waited until he started breathing again to break the connection. His eyes still closed, he used his fingers to trace her lips, then stood, embraced her and kissed her again. “I wonder,” he said as they stood there, listening to the sounds of one another’s breaths, “if you’ve always known what to say to me.” “Nope. You made me mad enough to say what’s been on my mind a while.” “Well, then…” he said, a grin on his face as he turned to the pistols, “somebody’s gotten bold.” He felt a slap on his backside, and continued collecting the weapons as he watched her saunter back to the stairs. She turned and stuck her tongue out at him. “Now, hurry up. I’m sleepy.” Steven laughed to himself as he placed one of the pistols in a hiding spot in one of the utensil drawers.
Ava’s wild blue hair hung around her shoulders as she stood, centered in the park’s lawn. The gathering crowd made her nervous, but she needed to focus at the moment. She took several deep breaths, slowing her heart rate, while drawing her arms closer to her body. Focus on balance, not power, she reminded herself; remember structure, not techniques; maintain flow, not speed. Marek Roth, across from her, bounced on his toes, tensed as usual. He continued to shift his position, attempting to find an opening in her defense. He did a quick shuffle step forward, and she moved to meet his advance. Marek crouched in a fully extended, aggressive stance. It was clear he’d try to end the fight quickly.
“It’s for real this time,” he said as his entire body seemed to catch on to what his arms were doing, and moved in large, circular movements.
Ava had been hit by a few of his techniques before. If he landed his attack, it would carry the potential of a broken bone. Fear, however, held no place in her mind at the moment. She watched him carefully, as the range of his motions increased, and he continued moving toward her. She stepped forward and to the outside of one of his swings, moving to strike his exposed face. Only too late did she realize she’d misjudged his speed, as her attack was deflected by a powerful punch that nearly connected with her collarbone. She lifted her feet, allowing the hit to push her back a few feet. The arm that got hit stung as if it had been hit with a baseball bat. It would be one hell of a bruise, but she was thankful it wasn’t a more intense injury. She moved back some more, centering her stance again. This was the first time he’d hit her in a long time, and it was a clear reminder of just how dangerous his style was. The small portion of her shoulder that had been grazed by the strike was starting to feel like it was on fire. The small crowd was becoming feverish now with excitement and delight. Marek changed his stance and moved to kick her legs out from under her. Ava stepped around the sweep kick and swung her fist, striking the side of his face with the sound of a cracking whip; second point. He staggered, dazed with a bead of blood appearing from his lip. He took a moment to shake his head clear, then regained his stance. Marek advanced with a surprising speed. He turned his body at the last possible movement, launching into a sideways somersault. As his kicking foot came down, Ava grinned and sidestepped. She turned, caught his kick at the thigh, and swept his landing foot out from under him. As he was falling, she followed up with another flurry of quick punches to his back and neck; third point, fight over. As soon as he hit the ground and began to roll over, she positioned herself over his head and gave the pretend finishing blow. Marek lay there, catching his breath. His arms were trembling, and he coughed a few times. When Ava offered her hand, he accepted, and stood. “How you feeling?” she asked, her eyebrows knit, eyes focused on the red marks rising on his skin. She really hadn’t meant to hit so hard, but he did push the damage limit. “Like I’ve been stung by a few thousand hornets. You?” Ava shrugged, “Like I walked in front of a bus and got sideswiped by a model airplane.” She failed to maintain her composure, and laughed awkwardly at her joke. “Dude,” Marek sighed, “why are you so extra?” She shrugged again, moving to pick up her backpack from where it sat in the grass. She tried to bury the grunt as her shoulder stiffened from the effort of lifting the bag, which she intentionally kept heavy, as you do. It didn’t work, of course, and she almost smiled again when Marek tried to take it from her. He was starting to feel guilty, the softy. Not the first time, either, and it was kind of getting on her nerves now. “Let’s hit the Jamba Juice on Larchmont,” she said, with a gentle, but firm push against his offering hand. “I’m dying for a good mango smoothie.” Marek hefted his own backpack, “Don’t forget, Julian wanted you to call and let him know where we’re going. What does he want to talk to you about, anyway?” “Dude, he’s your brother. I don’t have a clue. Granted, he did sound kind of worried earlier.” She pulled the cell phone from its spot on her backpack and flipped through her contacts. When she got to Julian’s number, she called it and got his voice mail. She left a message, but wouldn’t know for quite a while that he would never receive it. Before playing this action/adventure title developed and published by Chucklefish (a "new kid on the block" in the video games industry), I’d heard many things about it being a clone of Terraria (Re-Logic) “But in space”, which of course had the displeasure of being called a clone of Minecraft (Mojang/Microsoft) “But in 2-D”. This knowledge in hand, I instantly threw away the expectations those reviews would have me believe, and started the game. This is primarily because I had played Terraria, and found it sufficiently unlike Minecraft in many ways. So then, here we go. So I launched the program, and was instantly beset by the first of many pleasant and unexpected experiences. The immediate ability to choose between male and female variants of seven different races of interstellar creatures. And so, naturally, my first character was a human female by the name of Miria. After twenty intense minutes of designing her appearance, I clicked her existence into the game and discovered it was her graduation day from some unnamed space academy.
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AuthorLawrence Henry is an aspiring author with more caffeine than time. BTW, here's some of my thoughts on a few varied subjects. Archives
July 2023
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