Phate

by Jason Alan

  “No, you didn’t startle me…appearing out of nowhere at the foot of my bed…” Drinwor looked around, “…at dawn.” He yawned again. “No, not startling at all.”

  “I apologize.”

  The Cloak of Winds disappeared. Vu Verian, in full sight now, brought his arm up in front of his chest and bowed.

  Drinwor shook his head and stretched his limbs. “Please don’t do that, it doesn’t feel right. I mean—aren’t you at least a thousand years older than I am?”

  “You needn’t remind me.”

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long.” Watching you in your last moments of innocence, my dear prince.

  “That’s a bit…unnerving.” Drinwor shot him a playfully peculiar look, then smiled.

  Vu Verian couldn’t help but smile, too. It was nice to break the seriousness that perpetually plagued his face these days; but unfortunately, the expression subsided as quickly as it had appeared. How in the Gods’ names was he supposed to proceed? Oh, Herard! His heart quaked and his nerve faltered. The voice that next fled his lips was not the commanding voice of an immortal, but the quivering voice of one unready to pass on such terrible tidings.

  “Drinwor, I have some unpleasant things to tell you.” He cringed. Unpleasant? That was the understatement of the ages.

  Drinwor, still barely awake, stepped from his canopied bed. “Oh?”

  “I’m afraid so…” The words fell like tears.

  Vu Verian went silent, wishing he could forever forestall the coming moments. He just stood there, taking in Herard’s beloved son one more time before his terrible news changed the boy forever. Such an exquisite creature, he thought.

  Drinwor’s large midnight blue eyes shone like moonlit pools from his young elvish face. His features were smooth but strong, recalling the purer beauty of elves from the distant past. His skin was greyish-black, his silver hair like wisps of starlight curling over his shoulders to fall halfway down his back. Beneath his black tunic, his limbs were long, his muscles sleek and tight. His natural posture had him leaned forward, making him look something like a supernatural panther ready to pounce. His expression held a childlike quality that belied his animal-like appearance, though, and one could say his beautiful eyes glittered with hope.

  He was a creature of the twilight, a reflection of the evening, an echo of emerging stars.

  He was a dusk elf, the only one of his kind in all the universe.

  Innocently unaware of what he was, of what was in store, he looked on Vu Verian with puzzlement.

  But now Vu Verian could bear to look on him no longer. He took his eyes from Drinwor, and turned away. He said, “Get dressed and meet me on the terrace.” Then he stepped outside, leaving the crystal doors open behind him.

  The harsh light of Phate’s sun filtered into the room, causing Drinwor to squint. “Uh…all right, we’ll talk there.”

  Well, Vu Verian is acting especially odd! Drinwor thought. Had his father sent him here to lecture him on how to act like a prince again? It had been a while since that had last happened, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Drinwor knew he’d been acting strange of late—kind of distant, kind of lazy. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been sleeping, and his nightly ruminations had been chasing him into the day. Something was tugging at his soul, some growing desire to fulfill some purpose or find some greater meaning to his life.

  “Oh, I’ve just been thinking about…everything.”

  He laughed at himself. Ah, perhaps these feelings had simply been brought on by loneliness. Or perhaps it was because the older he became, the more he yearned to know about his mysterious origins.

  That was something that had always bothered him.

  You see, Drinwor’s very existence was an enigma. No one had ever been able to tell him where he’d come from, nor could anyone recollect the exact moment he’d appeared. He hadn’t been born and he hadn’t arrived. One day he was simply there, in Areshria, with his father. Mortals could never explain his presence, but in reality, his creation was spawned by the will of the living universe, who all but snuck him into being.

  Drinwor was as a flicker of light ignited in too vast a darkness…

  Herard had never for a moment questioned his inexplicable appearance, nor did he ruminate long on the nature of his wondrous existence. No, he never doubted that he had anything else to do but to take him on as his own son. Drinwor was accepted into his home and into his heart. For Herard, caring for him was a primal calling, an instinct for unconditional love that had been bestowed upon his soul by the universe itself.

  Oh, blessed Herard!

  His father.

  “Yes, my father, who’s never here! Back to the loneliness...” Drinwor sighed, and grasped the silver sword-charm dangling from a chain around his neck. It was glowing blue, just like the sword it mimicked. Curious. He wondered where his father was now, wondered—

  “Drinwor? Are you coming out here?”

  Drinwor blinked, looked to the terrace.

  Oh, yes, Vu Verian.

  Might as well get the sky elf’s lecture over with.

  “I’ll be right there!”

  Drinwor stepped to the ivory bureau near his bed, and pulled a small black bundle from one of its drawers.

  This was his usual attire, his demonskin armor.

  He brought it to his chest, and with but a whispered command it unfolded over his limbs. Smoothly accentuating his muscular frame with shining, leathery black, it left only his head uncovered (and his sword-charm, after he pulled it from the choking neckline). Large blue sigils glowed on the chest, imbuing the armor with magical protective powers—powers Drinwor had yet to discover…

  Now fully garbed, he breathed in deeply, exhaled, and moved onto the terrace.

  By now, the bud of dawn had blossomed into morning, and the sky was a solid bloody red. An energetic wind was pushing a continent of clouds past Areshria, and the terrace flickered with passing shadows. Drinwor looked across the way, spotted Vu Verian leaning on the railing, and strode up to join him. As he approached, he was struck with a strange sensation. He realized he had dreamed this scene not moments before, in the ten seconds or so he’d managed to sleep. He gazed at the sky and thought, What an odd morning this has been!

  The two elves stood in silence for some time before Drinwor asked: “Soooo…how are things in cloudform?”

  Vu Verian smiled, then turned to the younger elf. “You know, your father hated it when I gave you that demonskin. He thought it made you look too much like a dark elf.” He laughed. “It took quite a bit of convincing, but I assured him that it was safe, and despite its vile origins, that armor could protect your life. He finally agreed to let you have it (obviously), on the condition that I would take it back should the first sign of any demonic possession take place.” He laughed again, shook his head. “He was rigid, your father, but also accommodating.”

  Then Vu Verian looked away, his face growing as grey and cold as the clouds that flew miles beneath them. His tone lessened to a whisper, and he said, “Drinwor, your father never told you why he last left Areshria for the surface world.”

  “Well, he rarely told me anything of his quests. But he did seem especially nervous this time, almost like he was afraid.”

  “Yes, I’m certain he was.”

  Drinwor patted the railing anxiously. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “Many things, but for now, you must know that there are evil forces after your father’s sword. The Dark Forever wants Surassis.”

  “The Dark Forever? Why?”

  “Because the demons are coming, and the sword poses a great threat to their ascension.”

  “My father said some things, said a great war is soon to begin, a war like the one centuries ago. But I didn’t know his sword was involved. That’s rather unsettling, to say the least.”

  “Yes, well, your father went to retrieve an artifact that would have rendered the demons invulnerable to the sword,
and perhaps able to use it against us. But he…” Vu Verian’s voice trailed off. He stepped from the railing, walked some paces away.

  Drinwor swiveled at the waist, glanced over his shoulder. “Vu Verian, what is it?”

  “Your father…”

  Vu Verian’s breathing quickened and his body trembled. He couldn’t bear to hold the terrible truth in any longer, but Gods, he couldn’t bear to tell him either! I have to tell him! “Drinwor, your father wanted you to know…”

  The dusk elf sprang forward, grabbed the sky elf’s sleeve.

  “Something’s happened.”

  Vu Verian gasped. “He said he loves you, and ever will he watch over you.”

  Drinwor shook his head. Nauseating chills seized him and he moaned. “No... What are you saying? What do you mean ‘he’ll watch over me?’ I don’t understand.” He let go of the sleeve, and stumbled back into the railing.

  Vu Verian looked straight into his eyes. “Drinwor Fang, you are now the Emperor of the Sky.”

  “No…no… I…I can’t hear this. May the Gods return, this isn’t happening.”

  Drinwor crumpled to the floor as if his heart had just burst in his chest. The glorious light of his spirit dimmed as if someone had snuffed the fires of his life force. The universe felt his pain and, for a split second, the sun darkened, casting a planet-sized shadow that swept all across the surface of Phate. Of all the scars Drinwor would ever receive, of all the pains, triumphs, and losses that destiny had in store for him, nothing would ever affect him so much as the soul-crushing revelation of the loss of the man who had lovingly received him as his own son.

  Drinwor Fang was broken, with some parts of himself to never fully mend. His mouth opened, but there was no sound. His eyes searched, but they saw nothing. He went limp, his body a shell of emotional pain.

  Vu Verian stood over him, silently cursing the cruel neutrality of fate. He had no sorcery to stem the flow of tears; all he could do was stand there and watch him.

  After some time, Drinwor stirred from his shock. He was still lying flat on his back, liquid crystal tears rolling into his silver hair and glinting it. His lips parted, and a barely audible whisper escaped him.

  “Vu Verian…how?”

  “He was murdered by Warloove.”

  “Who?”

  “Warloove, the Lord of the Dark Elves, a thousand-year-old demonic vampire who conspires with the Dark Forever to steal your father’s sword. He’s the one.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.” Vu Verian’s voice was stern. He didn’t want to fill the dusk elf with any false hopes. “Your father made contact with me. He said he’d do that if…if it happened.”

  “What of Zraz?”

  “I don’t know, but I have neither seen nor heard from her. I can only imagine she joins him in the Forever. You know her, she never would have left his side.”

  Drinwor sat up, crossed his legs, and hung his head over his lap. “A worse nightmare I couldn’t have had if I’d slept.” He sat like this for a few more moments, grappling with his tears. Then he lifted his face and through gritted teeth said, “Where is this…Warloove?”

  Vu Verian shook his head. “No, Drinwor, you mustn’t even think of it! He is a creature of unending power, a servant to forces beyond your reckoning. Now is not the time for revenge.”

  “Oh? There will come a time…”

  “Perhaps. But not now.”

  Drinwor twirled his sword-charm through his fingers. “You claim I’m the Emperor of the Sky? How can this be?”

  Vu Verian knelt, and gently grasped the grieving youth by the chin. “You were the Prince of Areshria, the heir to the sky.”

  Drinwor shook his face from Vu Verian’s grasp. “No, no, it should be you, I know nothing! I can’t!”

  “My time has long passed,” Vu Verian said. “It is you. As your father wished, it is you. And,” he added, “only the Emperor of the Sky may keep the Sunsword Surassis.”

  “What?”

  “The sword is yours now.”

  Drinwor wiped his eyes. “It is?”

  Vu Verian stood up straight. “There is much to tell, but little time. The enemy will soon be coming.”

  “Coming where? Here?”

  “Yes. We must take Surassis and leave Areshria today. It is not safe for us here any longer.”

  “Leave? Today? Vu Verian, I’ve never been away from this palace in my life! I don’t know what to do with the sword!”

  “I know someone who does.” Vu Verian took a step back and conjured the Cloak of Winds. “Stay here, I’ll return in a moment.” Then he faded behind a cover of dwindling sparkles.

  “Wait! Where—” Vu Verian was gone before Drinwor could finish the inquiry. “This is all insane!” He pushed himself up from the floor and went back to the railing, his gaze wandering about the sky. Is this all real? It didn’t seem so. It couldn’t be. His father dead? The Sunsword Surassis entrusted to him, the newly proclaimed Emperor of the Sky? It was all unimaginable. And now, after all this, Vu Verian was going to have him abandon his home. If his father had been killed out there in the world, what chance did he have?

  He stood there in disbelief, hoping it was all a dream.

  I wish it was, my reading friend. For his sake, I wish it was…

  After a couple minutes, Vu Verian reappeared. His magical cloak came down from around his tall frame, and he stood there with his hand outstretched. Hovering inches over his palm was the most exquisite sword hilt Drinwor had ever seen.

  “The Sunsword Surassis,” Vu Verian proclaimed, “the pinnacle of sky elf weaponry.”

  Drinwor, despite his grief, couldn’t help but to be astounded by it and whistle with awe. “I’ve never actually seen it.”

  The hilt was made of a burnished white-gold that emitted a glowing enchanted aura. Spots of color shone upon it, for jewels of incalculable worth were set perfectly smooth within the concave impressions of the ivory finger grips. The pommel was a large, round crystal grasped by a golden dragon claw. Drinwor’s eyes were drawn to that crystal, for it held the most astonishing detail of all: inside it was trapped the lifeless form of a miniature solar dragon.

  It was the legendary Sunsword Surassis.

  “You must take it,” Vu Verian said.

  “If you say so.”

  The dusk elf drew in a breath, and reached out with his hands and grasped the handle. He was instantly filled with a tingling warmth. And even though the handle was much longer than the width of both his hands, it fit into his palms most comfortably. After turning it over, he noticed a wide indentation in the top of the finger guard. That has to be where the fiery blade ignites, he surmised. The craftsmanship was astonishing. He imagined the countless demons the sword had vanquished, and wondered if it had yet more to claim.

  “Good,” Vu Verian said, “it has taken to you, as your father knew it would. You must keep it secret, though. Put it into one of your armor pouches.”

  Drinwor slid the sword into a slit in his demonskin. Although the pocket’s mouth appeared as a barely discernible crease lining the outside of his upper thigh, the space within it could hold the contents of a large chest without encumbering him in the slightest. With the sword secured, he looked up to Vu Verian. “Well, I still can’t believe you’re going to trust me with this! I wouldn’t! I’d—”

  He was startled to silence by an uneasy pang in his chest. At first, he attributed it to the anxiety brought on by his grief and shock, but then he had a sinking feeling that something else was the cause. He looked around. The large group of clouds had passed the terrace, and the sky was now clear all the way to the sun. The sun… Something was in front of it. He squinted, cupped a hand over his eyes.

  “What are you looking at?” Vu Verian asked.

  Drinwor pointed. “You don’t see it?”

  Vu Verian moved beside him and looked outward. The first thing he noticed was a large cluster of daytime stars flickering over the five moons. “Ah, thos
e are the Shards of Zyrinthia, the shattered remains of our sister world. Every few hundred years they rain like cosmic fire upon our own world.” He sighed. “As foretold, their coming has coincided with the ascension of the Dark Forever.”

  Having no idea what Vu Verian was talking about, Drinwor shook his head. “Vu Verian! I’m not looking at the moons. What is that?” He shook his finger, trying to emphasize where he was pointing. “There, right in front of the sun.”

  Vu Verian saw it. It was a wavering dot, difficult to stare at for too long with the sun glaring behind it. The sky elf sang a sorcerous little song. His vision darkened and tightened into a funnel, and the distance between him and the mysterious thing seemed to close. Now he saw details. He saw…

  Wings.

  Huge, black wings.

  He dismissed his sorcery, and muttered, “May the Gods return, already?”

  Drinwor didn’t think Vu Verian could turn any whiter than he already was. “What’s going on now?”

  “I had hoped we would’ve been safe at least until nightfall, but apparently not.”

  “What in the Seven Glories is it?” Drinwor asked.

  “It’s Geeter.” Vu Verian said, “and I can assure you—it is not from the Seven Glories.”

  “It’s a what?”

  “Its name is Geeter. It’s a Greater Demonic Dragon. It’s Warloove’s mount.”

  “Warloove,” Drinwor growled.

  Although still relatively far away, Geeter was no longer a little dot, and Drinwor began to suspect that he was actually quite huge. And he was oh, so black! As black as a night sky in a starless dimension, black enough for his details to be lost in his own shadows. And strangely, the closer he came, the blurrier he appeared…and the more terrifying. Unable to stomach looking upon him any longer, Drinwor turned away.

  Vu Verian shouted, “We must get you out of here!” He opened his fingers and a small object appeared in his palm. “Take this, put it on.” Drinwor was given little choice, for while Vu Verian spoke, he grabbed Drinwor’s hand and slid a silver ring upon his finger.

  Geeter’s wicked shriek cut through the air.

  Drinwor was struck with unholy dragonfear.