Tear of Light

by Michael Edward Tenner

  “To that language, one a few knew, and all less than Areon himself, he bound the magic of the world. He forced it under the language’s command, held with a crimson chain.

  “It was the people of the east who taught him much during his younger years. Some say that’s where his name came from, but I know not for sure.

  “In the end, he repaid them by stealing magic away. No one here knows magic, without the Empire, nobody can ever learn. Back before Areon, the powers of the world were running wild. Every man and woman could learn magic and use it, except humans. There were three races, I believe, born of raw magical power. It is believed Areon stole it for himself out of plain jealousy.” Askard sighed and looked a the sky. “I wonder where the truth lies.”

  “The magic leaves a trace, a speck of dirt on one’s inner self,” he continued, still staring into the light. “That is why you are so valuable. Men who are far smarter than I could use it to wield the real magic, using it as a key of sorts. I never could, but that’s how it was explained to me. We can withdraw power from you and cast it ourselves. The scraps, slaves commonly found on the continent, remnants of a once-great empire, need it to survive.”

  All he said sounded more like a fable than the truth. With what was before her very eyes, she could not deny it. “What is your plan then?” she asked, still processing all that she has learned. “Army or freedom, which will it be?” She chuckled.

  With a joyous laugh, he replied, “I wouldn’t offer a room to someone I intend to sell. I wish to use you to get us all out of here, including yourself.” He let out a gust of air. “If you refuse, I will let you go free. There is already too much suffering, I had inflicted much of it myself years ago, I refuse to do so anymore.”

  “Haven’t you intended to sell me?”

  “No. It is quite rare for someone from the other continent to come here, much more appear lying on a cliffside. To be truthful, we didn’t know what to do with you, and Cori, the man with inquisitive hands, had an idea to scare and learn as much as we can.”

  “I had trouble understanding all that you’ve told me before, but this plan of yours, hands down, was the stupidest plan I have ever heard. What was your plan, then?”

  Askard gazed into her eyes. “This. Give a room, a bed. On the morrow tell you all of this and ask you, beg you if you will, to help us.”

  “Revealing the plan is part of the plan?”

  He nodded. “Cori’s idea.”

  “Maybe the light boiled his brain,” she joked. Askard laughed, but his eyes did not move from hers. There was one thing he wished to know, begged for an answer with that look. “I will help you.” Even if what he said was true and he would have let her go if she had refused, she couldn’t. The look in his eyes, the pupil shattered into small pieces, glowing with crimson and gold. It was a terrible, and painful, yet a beautiful sight.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, smiling and looking up into the sky.

  Efri didn’t respond and looked at the children playing, shouting things she couldn’t quite make out. It was always children who found happiness even in the worst times. Hopefully she could bring them under an ordinary blue sky.

  Set Ablaze

  Under the moon’s light, Alec, Oren, and Alen rode out of Beria. Their plan was set afoot. Yet Oren’s was different, he planned an escape from the city. At first, he considered informing the guards, but knowing their work ethic well, he decided not to.

  With the afternoon sun shining, its warm rays hitting their backs, they then rode back to the city. Clothed in armor bearing sigils of the Empire. The lion of Istra etched into the breastplate, proud, and ready to defend its homeland.

  The armor was comfortable, padded with soft leather, except the helmet that Oren felt slipping from his sweaty head.

  “I think they saw us,” said Alec.

  He was right, far on the city’s battlements, soldiers were running around, looking towards them. Some even dared to wave. Oren wondered how they recognized them from so far away.

  On the road, paved right after Beria’s fall, they arrived in the city. They rode under its strong gate. Just before anyone could overhear, Alec whispered his final instructions. “Do not speak, let me handle all there is.” Oren and Alen nodded.

  They were greeted by a regiment of soldiers waiting by the gate. While they wore armor befitting a city guard, they look like nothing of the sort, drunkards they were, the smell of their breath reached Oren even on horseback.

  “Lieutenant,” said one of them, the most sober of the group. “We knew not to expect you.”

  “An unexpected inspection captain,” Alec replied, keeping up the act well.

  The commander bowed, his helmet almost falling from his head. “A most surprising inspection, that is for certain.”

  “We wish to look through the city,” Alec continued, ignoring the commander’s remarks. “I hope that will not be of an issue. This inspection, for now, involves only the city as a whole, but if I see it fit, I shall not hesitate to include a report dealing with your performance.”

  “Of course, there shall no be an issue,” the commander replied. “Yet if I may, sir, on whose command are you conducting this inspection? Forgive me, but you travel with a very modest retinue.”

  “On the command of His Excellency the Archon of Istra Vikar Ka Ner, who was attacked by Berian rebels in the forests just nearby. Concerns have arisen that suggest you are unable to keep the peace!” Alec explained, calmly without a single hiccup or quirk of voice.

  The commander eyed him. “My apologies, the Archon’s words are our command.” He looked to the city. “Truly terrible, attacked by that scum. These Berians are an unruly bunch, but I must admit that they began to grow on me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I know what you must be thinking; trust me, I was of the same opinion.” The commander sighed. “Over time, you see the people hadn’t had it easy. Should have seen the city after lord Vikar took it. It was little more than a pile of rubble. Took some time to bring back from the brink.” He looked back at Alec. “I presume you shall want a full report.”

  Alec eyed him. “Of course. Preferably as brief as it can be.” With those words, he climbed down from his horse, Alen and Oren followed suit. “I hope I can trust your men with our horses?”

  Commander nodded and gestured to the soldiers gathered around them, who then hurried to grab the reins of their horses. “Of course,” he muttered and motioned forward. “Shall we?”

  While they walked up the main street towards the central square, the commander gave them a quick rundown. “The city is on the rise. Business is booming, markets are full of people, and the money spent is reaching all the way to Istra.

  “The plans for making Beria an official regional capital is going well. Just recently, a shop opened by two of ours, natives to Istra. They sell magical potions, to which the Berians took a little liking, but their business is starting to pick up. Crime is at an all-time minimum, thieves and pickpockets are quite rare, but the occasional incident happens anyway.”

  Just as he finished, they reached the square, which was, for the most part, abandoned. Alec questioned it right away, to the point of loudly doubting the commander’s words.

  Flustered, he hastily replied, “No, no. You misunderstand. The Capital square, as it was renamed just about a year ago, is inaccessible to most between eleven and one during the day and then from seven in the evening to six in the morning. We had many lower-income citizens amass here. This area is reserved for the people who live in this district. While it may introduce some squabbles, we are quick to resolve them.”

  Alec smiled and praised their initiative, but asked the commander to write a more thorough report, one Alec could attach to his own. Enthusiastically the commander agreed and excused himself right away.

  When he was gone, Alec whispered to them, “The market is not far away. It is time to act. We don’t have to worry about that bumbling fool, he will be busy for some time. The guards,
on the other hand,” he chuckled,” should be of no issue. Hangover makes one a shit swordsman.” Oren and Alen praised him for his convincing performance. With a bow, he accepted.

  “You two go to the market square,” he continued. “I will start gathering our most loyal. I believe you can handle it.” They agreed, of course, yet for different reasons. Oren just had to lose Alen and escape.

  Alen and Oren made it to the market shortly, passing through dark alleyways to get there the quickest. On the way, they decided that Alen would be the instigator, the leader, or at least Alen ruled as much, Oren kept mostly quiet and ignored his remarks and doubts.

  The moment someone laid their eyes on them, the bustling sound of the market ceased. A coin falling would have been deafening there. “Please pay us no mind. We are an inspection from Istra, here in the name of our blessed Emperor, His Imperial Majesty Alric of the Vi Dera dynasty. Go on with your lives, and ignore our presence, obey our commands, and no harm shall come to you.” Alen’s yelling filled the entire square. The people did as he said.

  For a while they walked around, grabbing the odd apple or two from merchants’ stalls, free of charge, of course, to inspect the quality. Oren stopped by a merchant he’s not seen before and began to browse the trinkets she had for sale.

  “Watch it!” yelled Alen suddenly. Oren turned to see a small boy standing before him. “Do you know not how to watch where you’re going?” The boy, no older than thirteen, looked at Alen with fright in his eyes. “What? Are you truly such a beast that you cannot even apologize. Animals you people are.” Alen continued to yell.

  “No, sir,” the boy shouted. “I am so sorry!”

  Alen smiled, showing his bright teeth to the crowd that formed around them. “I am sure you are. What is done is done, isn’t it? I could have cut you in half or froze you alive, was I not careful enough. Magic is not something to play around with! These people could have been harmed if I were to think I’m under attack. As such, I believe you owe some reparations.” A few sounds of disagreement sounded around, but nobody dared to speak up.

  “I’ve got no money, sir,” the boy replied. “Please. It shan’t happen again, I swear.”

  “What can I do?” Alen asked the air above him. “For the savages that you are, the only worthy punishment. Your hand will suffice.” He took the hilt his sword, wrapping his fingers around in. “It shall be quick.”

  “You bumped into him,” a yell came from the opposite end of the market. “The boy did nothing wrong, so leave him be.” It was a female voice, one familiar to Oren. From the crowd came a young woman with short hair. It was Narra.

  Alen was ready to continue, but Oren was quick to warn him. “She’s the Imperial,” he whispered into his ear with his back turned to Narra. “Don’t.”

  “Is that right?” said Alen, letting go of his sword. “I see. Please forgive me! Accept this as a form of repayment.” He handed the boy a couple of silver coins, shining at the whole market. The crowd vanished as did the boy.

  “Commander if I may,” said Oren and gestured towards a dark alleyway. “It is urgent.”

  “Nonsense soldier, stay quiet!” Alen replied. “Do you dare to question my leadership?”

  Oren rolled his eyes, and they continued walking around the square, people were now avoiding them as much as they could.

  Oren watched Narra run back inside Ceril’s store. The old man scolded and hit her. “Should one of us keep an eye on the imps? They may try to run,” he suggested.

  Alen sighed. “Aye. I was thinking the same. Just as Alec is ready, he will keep an eye on them. Do not worry, everything is planned.”

  “Why was I not told of that?”

  “Because you didn’t need to know. We don’t trust you, brat. Don’t think we do. The vials are what you were needed for. If it were up to me, you’d be locked up somewhere.”

  “Say that again,” whispered Oren, “and you are going to be the one who dies.”

  Alen ignored the threat, and for a while longer, they strolled the market in silence, the people looking at them more and more suspiciously. Finally, they caught sight of two men. “See them,” Alen said, “the two with swords?” Oren nodded. “They look hotheaded enough.”

  At first, Oren was convinced he knew them but just couldn’t place them. He might have been wrong; many people passed through his and Efri’s little shop. He told Alen as such, but the rebel cared very little.

  They came to them, Alen grinning from ear to ear, ready to start another fight, but even to his surprise, little was needed to irritate the two. Just as their eyes saw the lion on Alen’s armor, they walked to them with a smirk and bumped into them, on purpose and with strength.

  “What did you say?” screamed Alen out of nowhere. He pulled out his sword, ready for a fight. Confused, Oren did the same.

  The men looked at them, confused. “We said nothing. Get your ears checked.”

  “Excuse me?” Alen said in a silent whisper.

  “You heard me!” the man shouted. “Get your ears checked, and while on the way, get the fuck out of our city.”

  Alen shook his head. “We shall not tolerate this!” The two began to unsheath their swords but with a gleeful smile, Alen tossed a vial beneath them. It exploded and covered them both in black energy. As if someone spilled a pot of black glue on them, they were held in place. Their eyes were wide open, but even their pupils didn’t move.

  The market erupted in chaos as people saw what just happened. Yet Alen paid it no mind. Laughing, he drove his sword into the first one’s head. Slowly, enjoying it passing through his skull. Then the second was given even a slower death of many cuts and stabs. “You should clean this shit up!” Waving his sword, covered in blood, he severed the heads from the men’s bodies. Just then the magic faltered and they crumbled to the ground. “Whoops!”

  A young woman tried to attack them, but Alen struck her with the back of his hand. “Know your place, bitch,” he shouted. She fell to the ground, her head hitting the edge of a market stall.

  Yet, no one noticed yet another meaningless death. Pieces of fruit and vegetables began flying at them and swords were unsheathed. “Get out, imps!” people yelled at them.

  “Quick!” Alen shouted at Oren. “Now it’s on Alec.”

  They pushed themselves through the crowd behind them, avoiding most, and then into an alley beside the Crawling Guardsman. Followed, they had to run and threaten with magic.

  Only after circling and running for a good while they returned, and through a backdoor they entered the tavern.

  Nori, Ermi, and Irpen with swords at the ready and a pint of beer beside them waited. “Good work!” they shouted and cheered, but then Irpen asked, “Where’s Alec?” Worry was in his voice.

  “He went to secure the imp’s shop,” Alen explained, running towards a prepared jug of beer, downing it in seconds.

  Nori stood up, “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

  “What then?” asked Oren, breathing heavily. “Not like we can join the rebels.”

  Nori smiled. “People are searching for you, that much is true, but your faces weren’t exactly clear, at least I hope. We’re still amassing people, so I want you to help Alec secure the imps and Alen,” he turned to him, “you will join us. We are going to say hello to the Allifreis.”

  Oren heard that name before. They were the ones who opened Beria’s gates to Vikar. He almost forgot that some of them were still living in Beria, most moved to Istra.

  “Understood,” Oren replied, his plan of escape now clear, and began taking off the bloodied armor. “We must get rid of it, for good,” he added. “If this is ever found, all will be lost.”

  “Agreed,” Irpen spoke up.

  Ermi shook his head. “The spark is lit, brothers!” he shouted. “And the entire damn city will be caught ablaze.”

  “Now we only must stir the flame!” Nori added. “Make sure it burns bright and hot.”

  With the armor lying on the floor, Or
en stood there only in his white underpants, stained by sweat. The green gem hanged around his neck in a small brown sack. “Put it on.” Irpen threw him a large black bag. “Need you to look more, Berian.”

  As Oren began putting on the surprisingly fitting clothes, he asked, “When it is all done, will we scatter around the city as we decided?” Alen made it clear before he is not trusted, and plans may have changed, which could pose a threat to Oren’s escape.

  “For the most part, Alec made some adjustments to the plan, had to keep it secret,” admitted Irpen. Just as Oren expected. “We’ll scatter, but not all. Alec will force himself as a figurehead, as a leader of the rebellion while the rest of us will lead smaller groups and weed out anything imperial. There is much work to be done, and we can’t trust just anyone.”

  Oren nodded. “What will I do?” he asked.

  “You and Alen,” he stuttered, “will be hidden for the foreseeable future. Just in case.” In Nori’s voice, Oren heard the truth. They had no intention of keeping him alive.

  Interrupting Oren’s next question, the commotion outside grew louder tenfold, and someone started bashing on the door. “Hide the armor!” commanded Irpen in a panicked whisper. “Who’s there?” he yelled.

  “We have a few injured,” a voice from outside shouted. “Some of the guards attacked us.”

  Irpen rushed to open the door, and inside ran a group of men holding a number of the injured in their arms. Blood dripped on the wooden floor, soaking in between the boards.

  One of them Oren recognized, it was the boy that Alen bumped into.

  “Looks like a few broken bones, but nothing that can’t be fixed,” quickly assessed Irpen. “Aren, you should go, search for your father,” he said, looking at Oren and gesturing towards the door. “He’ll be worried sick.”

  Oren laughed. “He sure will! Thank you again for the meal,” he replied and pushed himself outside.