That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction

by A. M. Lalonde

  ‘Where is Ava?’ I ask. At fourteen, my sister has seen more horrors than most should in an eternal life. We both have. So many times I tried to convince her to live a life without me. The gift, the duty of being the Emerald Eye, would fall to my offspring if I had them, or die with me. She shouldn’t have to live a life of fear and being hunted because of me, but each time Ava refused and I loved and loathed her for it. Not only were my days peppered with worry for myself but riddled with moments of gut-wrenching horror when I thought of what the enemy might do to her, how they might ravage her, to get to me. So far we have managed to keep my identity hidden, allowing King Nicolai and his allies of neighbouring lands to believe the Emerald Eye is a gem, ensconced in the bosom of this mountain town, but he is here now. And rumour says he has developed a device that will seek out the energy source and guide him to it: to me. Any who stand in his way will be slaughtered and his guards have a reputation of killing just because of idle hands.

  I note the blood drenched sword twitch in Rawn’s iron grip, his hands in gauntlets, body sheathed in armour that hides the bulging muscles I know lie underneath. On another night, I might have run to him, perched on my tiptoes, flung my arms around him and pressed my lips to his. I might have curled my fingers in his hair and smiled as he stared back into my bright green eyes – emerald – but not tonight. Tonight I wait for him to speak the words I fear as his shoulders sag.

  ‘King Nicolai used his device.’ Rawn’s voice trembles but he continues to talk and I continue to listen. ‘He sensed some of the Eye’s energy on Ava. He knows she does not have it but is convinced she did and knows where it’s hidden.’

  All air rushes out of me and my skin turns cold.

  ‘He took her.’ Rawn’s eyes do not meet mine as he says it. ‘I ran after them. I butchered his men but it wasn’t enough. There were too many and he got away. The king got away and he took Ava with him.’ Rawn’s voice is hoarse as if he’d been screaming and for a split second the pain on his face matches the agony I feel.

  There is a churning in my gut like boiling lava and I clamp my mouth down on nausea as I feel my gift—myself—change. My ability to give life and heal shifts to a burning arrow of death and destruction. My gift to make the sun shine longer shifts to one that could make the endless dark of night stretch on for an eternity. Without it’s scattering of stars or luminous moon, without hope. Just silent, raging, dark. I close my eyes, whirling through the screams and cries of those below. In my mind images flash. I see the king and his sentries storm in on their golden hairy beasts with hooves and talons, three horns twisting from their heads.

  I see King Nicolai leap down and swear he means them no harm as his guards already start the massacre: slaughtering the men, ransacking the tiny homes, and bedding the women against their will. I close my eyes, screwing up my face, willing bloody scene after bloody scene to pass until at last I spy Ava, cowering behind a tree. Her clothes have been torn from her, mere scraps she has managed to scrounge maintain her dignity. Before they were killed protecting me, our parents would call her their Little Palomino. Though both of our skin is golden brown, Ava’s hair is also a stunning white-blonde. But tonight that golden skin is trembling, her bright hair stringy with sweat, and angst fills her soft, hazel eyes. I watch as shadows loom over her, a collection of sentries, clad in black armour, swords and shields baring the king’s seal in their hands. Then I see him.

  The king stalks toward her, his crimson cape billowing behind him, an ostentatious crown of gilded vines and sparkling jewels perched atop his red hair. He sneers at her. My visions don’t reveal what he asks but whatever she replies results in a harsh thrash across the face. My sister’s eyes water and her face crumples. She lowers her head, still trembling, still barely clothed. The bones in her back jut out as if trying to escape.

  Then a soldier falls and the others swivel as Rawn charges at them, his sword blazing like a streak of lightning. I open my eyes, stopping the images. I know what happens next.

  I stride toward Rawn, cupping a hand around his neck and pull him to me, his lips roughly colliding with mine. Does he know that this kiss is likely our last? The way he clings to me, ever drawing me closer, I think he does. Before his eyes can open, I pull away and race down the mountainside towards the town; leaping over crevices, slipping over the ice. I have walked this narrow trail so many times, I no longer cower from the sheer drop off both sides or flinch at the biting cold. I have one thought in my head and it heats me with a fury that burns: they have Ava.

  I leap from a height too great, one I would normally refrain from, sure I would shatter my ankle but tonight I don’t share that concern. I land in a crouch. The air reeks of blood and burning flesh. Ash flutters around me like an eclipse of moths. The smoke a blanket smothering the air. I draw up the hood of my sheepskin cloak and pull it up over my nose and mouth. Closing my eyes again, I whir through the past, watching as the king gruffly hauls my sister under his arm, leaps onto one of his beasts and thunders away with her through the pine trees.

  My eyes spring open and I creep through the snow remaining hidden in the shadows, concealed behind groaning trees that bend as if they feel the pain of their people. A nightmare: a vision of chaos. Fire, charred sculptures, crumbling homes, bodies hanging from branches, bludgeoned creatures and screams that grate the soul. I walk through it all, seeking out the area in my vision. The area at the edge of the forest where King Nicolai ran off with someone very precious to me. Someone he cannot keep.

  I stop, catching my breath as one of those brutal creature’s lumbers past me, bombarding into a cottage. I don’t wait to hear the cries of the family as he claws the place apart and discovers their hiding place. Now I run. The forest isn’t far and I sprint to it across the empty lot of snow and ice, nothing to hide behind. I hunt for that fallen pine tree the king’s beast knocked down as they fled from Rawn.

  Finally, I see it. My heart is pounding, my hands clammy, body shaking but I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I follow the gargantuan tracks in the snow. Though my shoes are made from slips of wood, string and wolfhide, the wet still seeps in where they are poorly stitched. I scrunch my toes, teeth chattering against the cold.

  The beast has left a trail of destruction in its wake: broken branches, churned snow, fallen nests. My stomach turns. What havoc is it now wreaking on Ava? Once again that heat, my power, stirs in me. If she’s dead, it seems to say, we’ll kill them all.

  The sound of running water, a stream, nearby stops me in my tracks. I lick my dry mouth. A part of me insists I continue – no time to stop, but I don’t know how long it will take to reach the king’s castle and I have left without reinforcements. Just me, my power and storming rage. I squint, my eyes narrowing and zooming in. The stream isn’t far from here; I can see the moonlight bouncing off of its dark surface through a clearing in the trees. I skulk through the thin gaps, icing myself in snow I’ve nudged from the pines. It litters my hair and clings to my cloak.

  I shake it off once I come to the clearing, surveying the shadows before kneeling at the water’s edge and scooping up handfuls. I grit my teeth, feeling as if I’ve plunged my hands into a pool of frozen needles, that somehow manage to sting and burn all at once. But I suck the water from my hands all the same, ignoring the stab of pain as it hits my teeth.

  So engrossed in quenching my thirst, I don’t notice the water move, like a wind stirs from beneath it. I don’t notice as bubbles pop along the surface. I only feel the cold and fierce grip of the Syphogy as its bony fingers coil around my wrist. They are such vicious, unfeeling creatures that dwell in lakes and streams. How could I forget?

  I meet its hollow eyes, empty sockets of swirling black. Mucus gleams on its grey skin and it offers me a grin of few fangs.

  ‘Pretty girl,’ it hisses, ‘with such pretty emerald eyes.’

  My stomach knots. It knows what I am. I was always told to be wary around water. The Syphogy’s possess a power from the dawn of time, one no one living
now understands. I pull against its biting grip, my skin beneath flaking in its grasp.

  ‘Don’t fight me girl,’ it crows, ‘stay and together we can live a long life. An eternity I believe.’ It tugs me, trying to bring me into the water but I wedge my feet in the snow until they are nestled beneath gravel.

  ‘I’ll drown,’ I splutter. I don’t want to hurt this creature, the dormant rage and power simmering in my gut reserved for those who took my sister. I don’t even know if I can hurt it.

  Another bare grin from the thing. ‘Not in the box I have for you.’ The swirling black seems to leap from the Syphogy’s eyes and I gasp. Box? It wants to keep me in some horrible enchanted box?

  ‘Please,’ I beg, feeling my energy tremble inside me.

  The Syphogy cackles at my plea, a horrible screeching sound that feels like spiders scuttling along my skin. And then it yanks as hard as it can. I’m falling. Before the slap of the water comes, it wails, releasing me. I tumble backwards instead, hitting the ground, next to its twitching hand no longer attached to its body.

  I gape at the figure beside me: Rawn. Sweating, panting Rawn with his sword dripping blood and slime from where he hacked off the creature’s hand. The Syphogy howls, this cry worse than its cackle or the cries of my people. Rawn grabs my hand and drags me half-stumbling, half-running behind him.

  ***

  Exhaustion and spasms of hunger leave me clutching my stomach, hunched over my knees. My head swims and vision blurs. The sun has come and gone and come again and Rawn’s meagre supply of nuts and berries ran out at last sunset. My toes peep through the holes worn in my wolf-skin boots, blistered and raw. And my bones creak with every step.

  Rawn stays beside me, stroking my back when I fall. My eyes meet his. They’re puffy from lack of sleep and perhaps tears, but I tell by the way he holds himself that he can last a while longer. Trained for this, a warrior through and through.

  ‘You need to rest,’ he soothes. I shake my head. No time. Those monsters have taken Ava. ‘Yes,’ he insists.

  I barely register as Rawn scoops me up in his arms as if I were no more than a fallen hawk. Lazily, I sling my arms around his shoulders, resting my head on the icy metal of his armour.

  ‘You sleep,’ he murmurs into my hair, ‘I will be your legs.’

  I mumble some response and before I know it, I am asleep.

  ***

  When I wake, uncomfortable but rested, Rawn sets me down, pulls out his hunting knife and hacks away at a tree nearby.

  ‘Eat this,’ he orders, handing me the bark and returning to the tree to break off pine needles, ‘and this.’

  I don’t argue, shovelling the tree bits in my mouth as Rawn consumes the same. Food. We meander on and he continues to chop us food from nature. With every mouthful, I am revived.

  ‘What will you do when we get there?’ Rawn asks, his deep voice the only sound in this deathly quiet.

  My power squirms as if given permission to ignite the embers inside me. I clench my fists. Not yet.

  ‘I’ll get her out.’

  ‘How?’ he asks, trying to keep the scepticism out of his tone.

  I turn to him, my eyes stern. ‘By any means necessary.’

  He stares ahead and doesn’t ask any more questions that night.

  Like a beacon in the dark, the king’s castle rises up in the distance. A fortress of black rock and twisted spires that scrape at the sky, warning us to stay away.

  When at last, we stop at the edge of the forest – a few paces from the castle – I turn to Rawn and say, ‘Wait here.’

  His eyes widen and I sense an argument on his tongue which I silence with a glare.

  ‘You haven’t slept in days. Rest,’ I say.

  He grabs my arm. ‘No.’

  ‘I won’t go in,’ I lie, ‘but I’m moving faster than you are. Rest whilst I look around.’

  His grip loosens but doesn’t yield.

  ‘Rest.’ I urge and unknown to him, send a ray of my power to lull him. There’s a good chance I won’t make it out of the castle tonight and too many people have died for me already. I won’t take Rawn with me. Finally, he lets me go, slouching heavily against the tree behind him.

  ‘If you need me,’ he grumbles, sliding to the ground, ‘scream.’

  ***

  I dart from the cover of the trees and sprint across the expanse of snow leading to that monstrous structure. Sentries patrol the keep and flanking towers, torch flames dancing across their silhouettes. The moon bounces off the spears they carry and the cannons resting on the wall, pulsing with an urge to fire.

  I crouch low at the base of the castle, panting, listening to hear if any of them noticed me. All seems well; just the rhythmic thud of their marching feet and the occasional murmur of arrogant voices. Inhaling, I embrace the storm raging inside me: hot bolts of lightning and the bitter fury of a blizzard vying for my attention. I yield to both. The king tore the world apart for The Emerald Eye. Well, here I am.

  The brick is cold as I press my palm against it, and twisting that gift that allows me to heal and mend, I instead destroy. The wall explodes, showering down like hail around me. The sentries holler unleashing a rain of arrows but I am already inside, bursting through the hole I forged, not minding the sting of the scrapes from the jagged rock or the way it snatches strands of my hair.

  Winding through the passages of beige stone and suits of armour; I follow the shattered light offered from torches burning in brass brackets on the wall. I feel my sister, her energy matching mine and in my mind’s eye I see her, huddled against a stone wall in the dungeon. At last, a staircase. I barely notice the steps as I barrel down, deeper and deeper into darkness, the air turning wet, singed with the stench of rot.

  I can’t be far now. I leap off the last step and a blinding pain collides with my skull before everything goes black.

  ***

  The sound of gentle sobs stirs me to consciousness, my stomach roiling as my vision sways then settles. I am in a cell, caged like some beast, lying on damp concrete. A meagre pile of hay rests in the corner beside a tin pan reeking of urine and a lantern swings overhead. Slowly, I turn my head the other way: bars. Thick steel bars.

  ‘Irina?’ a voice gasps, the sobbing stopping.

  I jolt up, wincing at the shooting pain at the back of my head.

  ‘Ava?’ Turning, I see more bars and on the other side of them is my sister, wide-eyed and crawling closer. Her face is battered and swollen, one eye barely able to open. The scraps of fabric she managed to tie around her are barely hanging on and her ankle seems twisted at a wrong angle, her foot dragging. ‘Ava!’ I gasp, racing to the bars.

  She starts to cry again and anger like I’ve never known pulses through my gut.

  ‘Isn’t that sweet?’

  Snarling, I turn to the buttery voice that dared speak: King Nicolai.

  I’m at the bars, hissing and banging against them in an instant. He doesn’t even flinch. ‘Let her go!’ I roar.

  ‘My device tells me that the source of the Emerald is in you.’ The king cocks his head in question, ‘Did you swallow it?’

  Fool. He has no idea what he is dealing with.

  ‘No,’ I growl. The king merely chuckles as I stand here, seething. ‘Let her go!’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ the king purrs. ‘Now, everyone will believe you both dead. If I let her return, she’ll be blabbing to all the lands about how I’m keeping you prisoner, torturing you until you hand over the Emerald.’ He sneers. ‘Which I will do and enjoy doing.’

  His face is so close to the bars, I could reach out and snap his neck, but I don’t miss the wall of sentries behind him, some with arrows notched and aimed at my sister through the bars of her cell.

  ‘So you intend to keep us here like animals?’ I spit, searching my mind for a plan, an escape.

  He shakes his head and a chill trills through me as I guess what he is about to say. ‘You, I will keep. Your sister, on the other han
d, will serve as food for the hounds.’

  My hands slacken and a deafening silence rumbles over me as his words sink in like rusted blades. A few sentries step forward, unlocking my sister’s cell and she screams.

  ‘It’s feeding time.’ The king smirks, watching the terror rise in the room with bloodlust. No! The guards crush into Ava’s cell as she wails and pushes herself against the wall like she hopes to claw through it. No! I bang my hand against the cell, willing it to rupture like the wall before, but it doesn’t budge.

  ‘These bars have been built to withstand the greatest of power. A little girl is no match,’ King Nicolai explains, reading the confusion on my face. The sentries reach for Ava but she kicks, screaming as pain blazes through her mangled foot and falls. They haul her from the ground. She cries, snot and tears mingling on her face, grime and matted strands of hair clinging to it. No!

  ‘Irina!’ she screams and my heart breaks, ‘Irina!’

  They drag her as she clutches the bars and I do the same, desperately trying to pry them apart though I know they won’t budge. No!

  ‘Ava!’ I scream, everything inside me shatters as they yank my sister through the door whilst outside, dogs bark, the sound like cannon fire and here the king laughs. Laughs!

  ‘NO!’ I roar, falling to the ground and pounding my fists against it. That swirling rage to destroy bursts through my flesh and drills into the earth. I see nothing but green, feel nothing but power and then the ground shakes. The king stops laughing, the guards stop yanking and my sister stops screaming. The ground caves in. I grip the bars as the earth falls from under me, the sentries going with it, sinking beneath the ground, their cries smothered by the dirt. The king lunges, using their falling bodies as stepping stones as he swipes my sister from their clutch.