With Prince Brom’s love kidnapped, he has to find her and save the day.
"My liege, Prince Filmor, we hate to bear bad news, but we have just received word that the Lady Arabella has been abducted en route to the city."
Brom straightened up on his seat, situated by his father's throne, empty as usual. This was the first tiding in days that had interested him. In fact, he had been caught up in a daydream about his future wife. He had only met her once, but that had been enough to leave him smitten. Declared one of the beauties of the land, Arabella's smile, so timid but so knowing at the same time, enchanted him. His thoughts had wandered to the wedding night when the unfortunate news came.
"Arabella!" he said, rising from his seat and whisking his cape in back of him. "Something must be done. Who kidnapped her? Where were they heading?"
"To the west," one of the quivering messengers said, kneeling at his feet. The man was scrawny, unlike Brom's own physique.
What lay to the west? "Jadek," he said, that one name taking on power.
"It would seem the logical conclusion," one of his advisors, Hadrian, said. "What course of action would you suggest in the absence of your father? Diplomacy? Espionage?"
"Action," Brom said, ignoring the messengers kneeling uncomfortably on the hard floor. "There will be no tolerance for such an audacious act. Prepare the military."
"My prince, I would advise against such drastic terms. We have a trade agreement with the Thromwells, and marching an army into their territory would be an egregious break of trust." Hadrian, with his balding head, furrowed his brows, making him look more ancient than his forty years.
Brom remembered the messengers, waiting to be addressed, and waved them away. Most of them left, but one stayed near, half bowing, looking hesitant. Brom waved him away more energetically; annoyed he had to waste so much energy on the man. The messenger smiled and left, running after his coworkers. Hadrian and Brom were alone now.
"Any treaty Jadek Thromwell had with us is null in light of this kidnapping."
"But Brom, you have no idea it was Jadek in the first place."
"I saw how he was looking at her in the feast. Father Morander would be ashamed to have someone so full of lust attending the event in his memory."
"Perhaps, but I know your father was ashamed to have his son drooling after the same girl."
"I was not drooling. Anyway, I saw how much he wanted to have her for his own, and how jealous he was of me when my father announced our betrothal."
Hadrian sighed. "You are the regent while your father is gone, and you have every right to be concerned about the welfare of your future wife, but remember that I recommended against it. Only you will answer to your father when this is over."
"And receive all the praise," Brom said. "Really, this won't even be an issue. Don't fret, I will cast you in the best light possible."
"As you will, my prince. I desire the best for your journey. I will notify the general of your decision. But please, do not make enemies lightly."
"There is nothing to fear," Brom said, fearing he would be the same when he was older. "The princess will return safely and we will soon be wed."
"Assemble the men," Brom ordered from his horse. The flag bearer raised the horn and blew. Brom felt the vibrations pulsing as they reverberated through the valley. His men offered up a cheer as the march began. He smiled down on them as a loving father would. He yelled out as loud as he could, hoping his thousand men could hear him. "Your future queen, Arabella, has been kidnapped. We must rescue her. We believe she is held captive in Melfor with the Thromwells. Once we arrive, leave no house, no store, no alley unsearched." Thinking about Hadrian, he said, "Avoid violence, but use it as necessary. And do whatever is required to save the princess's life."
The city of Melfor stretched before them, vast as the clouds in the sky. In the distance stood Thromwell castle, where Brom was sure he would find Arabella. In case Jadek, the elder son who recently inherited the throne after his father died of the yellow fever, saw Brom coming and sent Arabella away into the city, he would have his men enter in and search every house. Luckily, most of Jadek's men were with Brom's father, fighting in the alliance against the usurpation of the Kingdom of Grim by the Mithics.
They made it to the gates of the town before getting any response. One of Jadek's guards came out to meet them, dressed in violet finery, but looking annoyed. "What is the meaning of this, Prince Brom? Just because your father didn't bring as many troops with him to war as we did doesn't give you the right to trample into our fair city."
"You know why we're here. And do not insult my father, who is actually fighting, unlike Jadek."
"As well as you," the guard replied, sneering.
"Someone needs to run the kingdom!" Brom said, losing patience.
"Exactly."
"What is your name?"
"I am called Firion, son of-"
"Firion, if you can't give me Arabella right now, I am going to take over this city and burn down every house until I find her."
"Arabella? Who is she?" There was a look of such confusion on the man's face that for a moment Brom thought he might not know. Only for a moment, though.
"Put up your guard, because I am going to rescue her!" Brom charged Firion with his sword raised. Firion barely had time to take out his sword and block the strike which left him trembling.
"You're mad!"
"That's right!"
One of the men escorting Firion backed away and pulled out a horn. It took him a few tries, but it sounded throughout the city, while Firion and Brom fought. Brom's army marched forward, ready to take on the opposing host.
Brom had to admit, the guard was a good swordsman, but that was no surprise, given his position. Still, Brom was bigger and used his brute force to his advantage. His troops marched past him.
Swords clashed, ringing nearly as loud as the horn. Thrust, side slash, feint, parry, thrust again. Brom pressed down, hoping to break Firion's stance. When that didn't work, he slid down and slid his foot in an arc, trying to trip him, but only managing to unbalance him.
So he jumped on him.
Firion fell down, Brom on top. Not about to take any chances, Brom plunged the sword into Firion's chest, pushing through the armor. Firion just gurgled in surprise, eyes already going blank.
Taking his sword out, blood dripping, he stood up and shook it before wiping it on Firion's clothes. Red specks covered the ground.
Inside the city, people were running out of their houses, screaming. This only encouraged Brom's army to chase after, pillaging and plundering. Brom hadn't meant for this to happen, but getting control of them now would be nearly impossible, and he had to get to Castle Thromwell. Taking a unit of disciplined soldiers, he left orders with the general to round up the army and he took off.
A few peasants tried to stand up to him, yelling, calling him names, but he just cut them down. The castle stood like a white beacon, and everything else in sight was just a distraction. Arabella was waiting for him.
Within fifteen minutes, he arrived at the gates. With the help of some of his guards, after dispatching Jadek's, he pushed open the doors in a dramatic gesture. Light from the cloudy sky filled the hall. His footsteps echoed all around him.
Going in deeper, dispatching more guards, Brom entered the hall to confront Jadek. He wanted Arabella, and no one would stop him. Clenching his sword until it hurt, as well as his teeth, he scanned the dark room. At the back facing him was his nemesis.
"You have broken the treaty, Brom," came the voice from the shadows. Brom's vision adjusted to the darkness. Jadek looked like he wanted to jump out of his throne and strangle him. Brom almost wanted him to try.
"The treaty was meaningless once you kidnapped my wife," Brom said with deadly calm.
Jadek looked incredulous. "That is what this is about? You pillage my city for a girl?"
"You brought this upon yourself. Now where is she? Locked away?"
"I'm right here," A
rabella said, coming out of the shadows to the right of Jadek. Lush golden hair, delicate face, cherry lips, swaying hips. Brom lost his breath. "You should have left us."
"Let her go free!" Bloodlust threatened to take over Brom.
"I want to be with him, Prince Brom!" Arabella yelled, becoming even more beautiful. "I never wanted to be with you!"
Brom couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was to be his wife. She couldn't hate him. He had done so much for her. No, this was a mistake. She had been manipulated. This wasn't her talking. He knew it. She would never say something like that in her right mind. Jadek had some leverage on her.
"What have you done to her?" Brom cried out. "Face me now!"
"You're insane!" Jadek yelled. "Guards, stop him."
Thus began the battle, Brom's guards versus Jadek's. Brom helped, giving the advantage to his side. The fight lasted several minutes, and Jadek escaped with Arabella, but Brom couldn't get through. His own side suffered several losses before he disabled the last of them.
As soon as possible, he took off after Jadek and Arabella. He wasn't sure where they had gone, but could guess. The castle wasn't unfamiliar to him. Because Arabella wore heels, she slowed them down, and Brom found them trying to escape in the back entrance.
"Jadek, it's over."
"Why are you doing this, Prince Brom? What did I ever do to you?"
"You took my wife."
"She's not your wife yet, and she came to me. We love each other; she didn't want to get married to someone she couldn't love. Will you not allow us happiness?"
Brom sheathed his sword, breathing hard. He walked up to Jadek, each step a battle. Glancing at Arabella with regret, he held out his hand. Jadek took it, hesitantly.
Grabbing onto his hand, Brom took out his sword with the other and impaled Jadek, pulling him closer. Arabella screamed and ran to Brom, hitting him with her fists. Brom ignored her. Jadek's eyes grew lifeless and he coughed blood.
Brom pulled out the sword and let Jadek drop to the ground. Tired of hitting him, Arabella dropped to the ground as well, putting her body over his and crying. Brom left them, sighing.
A month later, they were married. Brom was crowned prince of Thromwell as well, ruling in absence of his father. Arabella promised she would hate him forever, and did not let him in her rooms ever, not even on their wedding night. He didn't have the will to argue.
A few days later Brom was on the throne in a pose of deep and sad contemplation. Trumpets started blaring, shaking him from his mental fantasy. The doors opened and in strode a regal figure. Someone with a purpose. It reminded Brom of himself so recently, coming in on Jadek.
"Father," he said simply.
"Brom Filmor," his father, Reginald, said. Although he said it pleasantly enough, undercurrents of anger were manifest. "I have come for an accounting of the stewardship I left you."
"Leave us," Brom ordered everyone in his court.
"Let Hadrian stay," Reginald said. "I do not wish to be completely alone with you."
Hadrian stayed, but did not look pleased.
"Well?"
Brom sighed. "Hadrian, if you please."
"Remember your promise, my prince," Hadrian began.
"Yes, yes," Brom said, waving his hand and turning around. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Hadrian counseled me against all of this, and I didn't listen."
Reginald stayed silent, but put his chin in his hand. Hadrian cleared his voice and began the report. "There was an…altercation. It ended up in a battle between Thromwell and Filmor. In the end, we lost two hundred and twenty three soldiers. Thromwell lost many more, mostly civilians of fighting age. Also, Jadek, king of Thromwell, was killed. Without heirs, and in the confusion, Brom declared himself king of Thromwell."
"Prince," said Reginald, signaling Hadrian to continue.
"Prince Brom took Lady Arabella Faust as wife, and they were married three days ago. I have nothing more to report."
"Very succinct," Reginald said. "Thank you for the report, Hadrian."
"Thank you, majesty," Hadrian said, bowing. "If I may be so bold, how fared the war with the Mithics?"
"Let me put it this way. After the heroics of my son, now with so few soldiers to call upon for reinforcements, you need not call me majesty much longer."
"You lost?" Brom shouted, then remembered himself. "Father?"
"We had to resort to the defensive. The Mithics will be coming to invade soon. I had hoped to recruit from Filmor and Thromwell to put together one last defense of our kingdoms, but with the needless losses you caused, I don't know if it will be enough. Plus, we cannot count on the morale of Thromwell's troops, now. They might prefer Mithic rule to our own."
"I'm sorry, father!"
Reginald took a step forward, his anger finally showing. "Is that all you can say? Sorry? You destroyed the kingdom while I was gone! All you had to do was nothing! Was that so hard?"
"I didn't want Jadek to steal Arabella away!"
"Oh? And how did that work out? How's the marriage?" Brom didn't answer for a few minutes. "Hmm?"
"You obviously know, so don't taunt me!"
They stared at each other. Reginald finally spoke up. "Hopefully the Mithics will allow our family to continue ruling under them. Even though it's unlikely you'll be producing heirs anytime soon. I hope you enjoyed being the hero, son. You conquered a kingdom, now we will be conquered. We need great leadership in this time of change. Which means no more heroics."
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Sage Eyes Reawakening
Fact is distorted into story by perception, story is distorted into legend by time, and legend is distorted into myth by disbelief. This is the true recounting of facts so distorted by perception, time, and disbelief that they became myth. Few remember the time of this account, and fewer yet remember what really happened. This chronicle is to help clarify the myths and redefine the heroes of the time.
Preface of Sage Eyes, author unknown
Prologue
Nomira, Mith, Mundia 29 da Septamar, 4993
The end of everything he ever knew began like any other day.
“Wake up! You have to help your father with the chores,” came the voice from outside his room. Siathrar grumbled as he stumbled off his small bed. He fell onto the floor with a crash and pushed himself up with his elbows. His hair was covering his eyes and he knew then what a mess it would be. Siathrar sighed, trying to comb it down with his hands. His parents always disliked his long brown hair, but he insisted on keeping it that long. Part of his heritage, he would tell them, but they ignored him. Wanting to suppress it as much as possible, they did allow his hair, but with great reluctance.
The sun had not risen completely yet, so Siathrar stumbled through the dark, trying to find his clothing. He tried to be quick about it because his father was an impatient man. The farm had to be taken care of before it became too late. Then they could do anything else they wanted. During this time of year, though, Siathrar felt as if all his time was spent on the farm. There was never enough time in the day to finish every chore, so it went into the night. Then he would fall asleep and wake up the next morning to restart the cycle.
“Coming,” Siathrar said to no one in particular.
As soon as Siathrar came outside, he walked to his father. The man already had his hat on, even though the sun was not beyond the mountains yet. Wearily, Siathrar came to his father, ready to obey, although he wished he did not have to.
“About time, boy. If I had a better son, I could have gotten done with this work much faster each day. But no, I’m stuck with what I got, which is you. Irma tells me to be grateful to have you at all, since we couldn't have children due to that sickness that hit us years ago, but I’m not so sure you're worth the trouble.” It was the same speech, with slight variations, he heard several times a week. It was almost a joke. Almost.
Siathrar’s father paused, looking to the west. “There is a strange star out today. Appeare
d just last night, brighter than any of the others. Perhaps it will make the day longer.” He smiled at his son, then added, “That means you’d have more time to work, boy. This harvest is one of the best we’ve had in years. Maybe we won’t be scrounging for food this winter; we’ll have plenty to eat and become fat, like a king. You look like you could put on more weight.”
Siathrar was staring at the star in the sky, though, and didn’t hear his father’s last few sentences. The new star had a reddish glow surrounding it, as if threatening to burn anything it touched. His mother was afraid when she came out, thinking it was some great monster in the sky wanting to destroy them, or some omen. His father told her not to worry, but she was still uncomfortable with it. Still, there was nothing that could be done.
Siathrar, however, was fascinated. He imagined it was a giant fireball that a great Majestic had summoned, lighting the world for all to see. His parents would never allow such silly notions, though, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He did wonder what the people in the village thought of it. He had not been there in weeks. Their reactions would be interesting to see.
Memories of the night before swept into his mind. He had dreamt something strange. He couldn't quite recall, which frustrated him, but he was sure it had something to do with the star in the sky.
“I have a special assignment for ye today, boy,” Siathrar’s father said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. “Now mind you, you have to finish milking the cows first, then I’ll let you go.”
“Go where?” interjected Siathrar quickly.
“Now how many times have I told ye not to interrupt me, boy? As I was saying, after you finish milking them cows, I'm letting you go to the village.”
“Really?” Siathrar could not believe his good luck. He would be especially glad to get away from his father.
“Yes, you can go. Your mother thinks you need to meet people more often. I don’t know where she gets that idea from, since I hardly ever need to see anyone, and I’m as good as they get. Sometimes, I don’t even like seeing my own family,” Siathrar’s father glanced at him before turning his back away. Siathrar swallowed the insult quietly.
“When you go, I need you to tell that mayor over there I have seen some wolves nearby and I want them taken care of. You hear me? You will tell the mayor to send some hunters or anyone else who can take out them wolves. And I don’t want you to return until you have a promise from the mayor that he will help. It would also be nice if you could bring back them volunteers with you, instead of us having to wait.”
Siathrar’s mother interjected, looking annoyed with her husband, “Siathrar, that's not the only reason. Don’t you remember? Today is your birthday. What your father really means to say is that you get to go to get a day off, to enjoy yourself today.”
Siathrar had forgotten. It was still early, and normally he did not get much for his birthday anyway, so it did not mean much. But it was a nice gift, almost like his father cared. Looking at him, he was not sure it was really so much for Siathrar’s happiness, or for his father’s, as to get rid of him for a while. Better not to think of it like that and spoil his birthday. How old was he? Oh, seventeen. Today. Supposedly, at least, because his parents never knew his real age, being adopted.
“But father, what if the mayor doesn’t agree?” Siathrar asked, turning back to the other task his father had given him.
“That’s your problem, boy. If he don’t agree, you’ll have to find a new home. But did you really think I was stupid or something? He’ll have to agree once you show him the pelt I got from one of them wolves.” Siathrar’s father smiled in satisfaction, pulling a gray and white wolf skin from his pack. He gave it to Siathrar.
“You already killed one of them?” Siathrar asked, incredulous, holding the pelt with something near reverence.
“Well, no. This is from years ago, when I was a hunter and before I was married. Me and Brian killed it. Yep, those were the good days. But you'll not tell the mayor that. You go tell him I found one of them wolves on me property and killed it. Got me, boy?”
“Yes sir,” Siathrar said, gulping.
“Good. Now what are you standing there for? Go milk those cows!”
Siathrar went inside the barn house to get to the cows. The conversation he had had with his father seemed to have awakened them. They had three cows, but had only bought two of them. The other was a gift from one of their neighbors, Brian Galen, the Brian his father had talked about. Thinking of Brian brought back memories. Just as Siathrar’s father had been best friends with Brian, so had Siathrar been best friends with Brian’s only son, Magerise. Magerise had been Siathrar’s only real friend, respecting him for who he was, unlike the other children who lived near the village. Siathrar had made fun of his strange name, but it was all in jest. They were inseparable.
Unfortunately, Magerise was gone now. Recently, a wandering man had come by the village and met Magerise. He told Magerise he had some kind of talent and wanted to train him in it, but he would need to take him away, to be his apprentice. After thinking long and hard, Magerise, with encouragement from his parents and from Siathrar, had decided to go along with him. That was a year ago, when Magerise was fifteen and Siathrar was sixteen. Now, Siathrar wished Magerise had stayed on his farm, here in Nomira. He wanted the best for Magerise, but now he regretted his insistence. Magerise was off adventuring, seeing the world, and Siathrar was stuck here, in the middle of nowhere. He did not even know who was the king, or any of the rulers. He was lonely, having no friends.
Siathrar finished milking the cows well before noon, encouraged by the promise of going to the village, despite his mixed feelings. He took the food his mother had packed for him and set off, hoping to reach the village several hours before nightfall. Once he was in town, he could use the small amount of money his father had left him to find a room at the small inn Nomira housed. The first thing he would do the next morning would be to make an appointment with the mayor. His parents expected him home by the next day at the latest. He would make sure to comply, fearing what his father might do if he wasn’t. He didn't know anywhere else to go, anyway.
Half a mile down the road, trees gave him shade just as the sun was reaching the point in the sky when the day became hot. Looking down the beaten path, there were multi-colored trees for as long as the eye could see. Seeing nature in fall was such a calming sight to him. Siathrar sighed, enjoying the time he was spending, just a simple walk through the forest. Perhaps it was his nature awakening. He didn't even think of when he would reach the village. Soon he was walking as in a trance, no worries on his mind, no ponderous thoughts, no feelings but that of contentment.
He reached the village early in the afternoon. There were people bustling about, same as always, but the people seemed kind of worried. Siathrar wondered why, but then realized it must be the star they saw last night. People such as this always got worried over things like that, things that were not normal. Thinking about it, he realized that they were all being silly. Just because a red star appeared does not mean anything, and if it did, it would not be targeting their little village. Passing by an inn, he overheard a conversation.
“Have you heard?”
“What?”
“They says the star is connected to Snake Eyes. They had some heretic cast it to terrify us all. Then they’ll come and take all our goods, saying they’ll cast it away if we cooperate.” Siathrar thought about that. He had heard Snake Eyes mentioned, but did not know much about them. It was supposedly the best band of thieves to have ever terrorized the kingdom. Many said that they were just a legend, that they were just mentioned to scare little kids.
“But we don’t have no goods to steal.”
“Well, yer right there. Maybe they cast it high in the sky and they’re threatening Harmony. Them have some riches. Maybe we’re safe.”
“Or maybe they don’t want our goods. They wants our women. We do have some purdy women here.”
The barkeeper interru
pted at this. “It can’t be Snake Eyes. What has the greatest band of thieves ever have the need of a heretic for?”
“Maybe that's what makes them the greatest thieves ever. Y’all know there ain’t many Majestics anymore. Even in Mageda they are dwindling. Having one or two would give them an edge.”
“Speaking of magic, look who's here.”
Siathrar could feel the stares flock to him as he walked through the doors, the whispers of the giant star and Snake Eyes ceasing as another object of fascination walked in. Looking at his feet, he strode to the innkeeper, an old, skinny man who was polishing a mug. Siathrar fished through his belongings to find the money for a room. He put it on the bar table.
“I’d like a room for the night,” Siathrar said simply.
“Oh ho. Haven’t seen you around here for a long time, sonny. A real long time. We haven’t forgotten you, though, have we, boys?” The innkeeper looked around at his patrons sitting at their tables. They all nodded in agreement, some pounding their mugs of ale on the tables. “Has your pa been keeping you busy? Tell him to let you come by more. We miss you.” The people in the tavern all laughed.
“Please. Just give me a room.” Siathrar was not in the mood, his face reddening, up to the tips of his ears. He was never in the mood to be treated like this.
“Not very talkative today, I see. Very well, then. I’ll give you a room, since you’re one of us, no matter how often you come. You live by Nomira, so you belong here, even if you’re different. Your room is upstairs, second door on the right.”
Siathrar nodded and hurried out, almost running, but not wanting anyone to see him so uncomfortable. He partially understood why they made fun of him, but he wished they would stop. No matter how many times he came, it was always the same, although more subdued when he was with his father. Siathrar felt a fool for believing this time would be different. He would always be an outcast.
Outside, he looked up at the sky, breathing hard. The red star still hung there, its brightness trying to compete with the sun.
Some youth his age were gathered outside, pointing at the star, talking among themselves. He recognized some of them. Frand, Tenci, Wes, among others. One of the girls turned around and saw him, recognition igniting her eyes instantly. It just had to be Laurana, of all the girls there, who saw him first. Her hair like the sun, her eyes like the sky, she was everything he wanted and everything he couldn't have. Part of him liked to believe she secretly liked him. The other part of him thought that part was crazy, stupid, or both. Burning with shame still, Siathrar was sure he was as red as the star.
“Look, it's Siathrar,” she said to her friends. The others turned around, conversation dying just like it had in the inn. At least he elicited consistent reactions. No confusion there.
“The elf,” one of the boys there said. As simple as that, direct unlike the older men. He wasn't sure if he preferred it that way or not.
Aeflis, he thought. The name his true people called themselves. The reason he was so hated by everyone, even his own father. Or adopted father, rather. He had no idea who his real parents were, nor had he ever seen any other elves, but always dreamed of escaping and finding them. He hoped he wasn't so tainted by humans that they wouldn't accept him.
Looking at his hands, he wondered what the fuss was about. He looked like humans, with hands like them, feet like them, a face like them. His eyes were kind of different, and his ears pointed. Thinking about it, he did regret having his hair long, as he imagined elves would have it, but it was too late to change that now. But aside from those small differences, he was like the rest of them. More like them than elves in the stories were purported to be.
Perhaps it was his longevity that set him apart. Aelfin lived to be a thousand years old, or so he had heard. They also used magic, although he had never been able to work it himself, and he had spent much of his free time trying. Anyway, he believed they were jealous of him, which is why they teased him. That belief was the only reason he was able to endure what they did to him.
While he was trying to think of something to say, images from his ghostly dream last night popped in and out of his mind, but he couldn't remember it completely. The images did not make sense, flashes of scenes, a white room, him feeling trapped. There were people staring at him, looking down. They were dressed in white as well, with strange objects in their hands. Voices, talking, but he could not understand them. He had a feeling of being weak, helpless, as the personages did what they pleased with him, but what they were doing, he had no idea.
The scene suddenly shifted to him being enclosed in something, everything going dark. He was afraid. Voices continued to talk to him, but these were different, and he could understand a few of the words. Ancient. Weapon. Number Two. Yet they made no sense. The worst part about it was that he had no idea what was happening. He tried to close his eyes…
…And as he opened them again, he heard the laughter of the youth from the village. “Siathrar, are you going to answer the question?”
“Don't just stand there like you're deaf. We know your long pointy ears can hear well.”
“Maybe his mind just can't understand.”
“Leave him be,” Laurana scolded. Siathrar felt better with her defense, until he realized she was fighting back a smile herself. He had been a fool for thinking that once Magerise left, she would be interested in him.
Siathrar looked away. He needed to speak to the mayor about the wolves his father had supposedly seen. He felt in his pack the wolf fur and was reassured. He had a purpose in being there. Why wait until tomorrow? The group dispersed, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Laurana was wandering closer. It became harder for him to breathe.
He found himself staring at Laurana again when another young man came and put his arm around Laurana, but looked at him, eyes narrowing.
“Siathrar, I thought I told you to stay away from Laurana. I’ll give you another beating it I find her with you.”
“Leave him alone,” Laurana told her new boyfriend. “I just came out and found him here. He didn't do anything.”
Though you were raised by humans, you are not one of them.
The voice had entered his mind without bidding. Strange.
“I think that just looking at you counts as something, something to offend me. Do you want me to hit you, elf? Your daddy isn't here to protect you now, is he?”
“Jason, stop it,” Laurana said. Jason was undeterred, making menacing gestures.
Siathrar could not take anymore. Fear seized him, so, without thought, Siathrar fled. Walking fast, he made his way out the village. He had not gone to the mayor, his father would be mad, but none of that mattered. He just wanted out. He ran as fast as he could away from the village, never wanting to see Nomira again, never wanting to see his family again. Faintly he heard Laurana call his name as the others were laughing at him. Tears ran down his cheeks. He had not done anything to them, but they never released him from his torment. Vainly he wished Magerise were there, to tell the others to leave him alone. Even Magerise had left him, though. Siathrar was all alone. He could not face the townsfolk again, not after running away. Nor could he return to his father, who was always verbally abusing him, just as bad as the others. Siathrar wondered why his parents had ever wanted to adopt him in the first place.
How he ran for so long, Siathrar had no idea. His mind blanked out as he ran, just concentrating on getting away. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he was not tired. Sometimes he would hear voices behind him, telling him to stop, which gave him more energy. Before he knew it, he stopped at a large lake, famished and thirsty. He drank some water from the lake, not caring if it tasted bad. It was one near the village, but not that close.
Siathrar looked out over the lake, seeing it stretch out for miles. He was amazed he could run this far. Taken in by the surroundings, he let himself enjoy the serenity, not having to worry about anything. He lay down, thinking that tomorrow would come and then he could figu
re out what to do. Maybe he could leave the village, find another place to live. This place left him nothing. He did not care about them. Right now, he was free to do what he wanted.
Tomorrow did not come, though. Just after dusk, Siathrar woke up suddenly to the sound of voices mixed with hoof beats. Siathrar tensed up, still too groggy to do anything. Among the voices, he heard Laurana’s.
“C’mon, guys. Just leave him alone. He ran away and might not come back because of you.” Her voice sounded like it was pleading.
“That’s why we have to find him. We won’t have anyone to play with if he never comes back.” The voice belonged to Jason, the leader of the pack, Siathrar’s worst enemy.
“Look at the star. Boy, it sure is bright. You can almost see something in the glow. Like a big rock, falling from the sky,” one of Jason’s underlings commented.
Siathrar looked up. The star was quite big. Its light dimmed the other stars around it. And strangely enough, seemed to be growing at he looked. It had a tail of flame behind it now.
The destruction of the world.
“Hey, I found him!” Siathrar looked and saw a guy named Frand, dark skinned with curly hair. Frand was standing over him, with the others encircling him. Laurana was behind them, trembling. A wave of fear overcame him again, like at the village. Not wanting to go down without a stand, he stood up. He felt Frand’s hands trying to push him down, but he felt adrenaline going through him, giving him strength to resist.
“Well, what do we have here?” Jason sneered. “A worthless little elf, all alone, no one to protect him. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, vermin. Your kind was thinking they was too good for us. Well, you’re not. You should have left a long time ago. Too late now. I don’t ever want to see your unnatural face again. So I decided I’m going to end this, here and now.”
“No!” screamed Laurana, trying to reach them, but was held back. A circle formed around Siathrar and Jason, with no way to escape. Siathrar stared at Jason, hate in his eyes, while Jason did the same thing.
“No interruptions. It is just me against the elf,” Jason told the crowd.
Jason threw a punch at Siathrar, hitting him square in the face. Siathrar reeled, but more from shock than pain. The punch seemed like it should have hurt more. Siathrar feebly tried to block the rest of the attacks, not knowing how to fight back. He saw the faces of the others, mocking him. Jason’s attacks were not strong enough to do any major damage to Siathrar, though. He wondered why that was. Not trying to fight back, he just automatically blocked the attacks that he could, his instincts not so willing to give up. He saw an opening after a minute and took it to punch Jason, just to get him to back off. Jason fell to the ground, staring. Siathrar was just as surprised by his own strength. Chills ran down his spine.
“Your eyes,” Jason whispered.
Suddenly, the crowd around them started dispersing, some yelling. Frand pointed up at the sky, not emitting a sound, yet terror had struck his eyes as he turned and fled with the rest of them. Only Laurana stayed behind, yelling but not being heard over the loud noise that started to envelope them. Jason looked up and stared in awe. Siathrar, seeing a chance, took the opportunity to hit him in the head. Remembering Siathrar, Jason started fighting again. The fighting continued a bit longer, until Siathrar heard Laurana.
“Run! Get away!”
“That elf did this, I tell you, to get revenge.”
The meteor strikes the world, bringing creatures of darkness.
Snapping out of his daze, Siathrar looked up at the sky. Jason stopped fighting, too. The star, the size of a house, falling so fast it burned, plummeted into the middle of the lake. A huge, white light appeared, engulfing everything.
While Siathrar tried to shake off his blindness, a loud roar hit him and the initial blast sent him flying into a nearby tree. It wasn’t my fault, he thought. He thought about Laurana, wondering where she was even as he tried to get up. Her terrified face haunted his mind. He should have listened to her. His vision slowly returned, while he covered his ears to shut out the roar. The first sight to his unblinded eyes was a tidal wave, seemingly fifty feet high, coming straight for him. Knowing there was no resistance, he put his arms down and let the flood ram into him, sweeping him away.
Hours after the catastrophe, Laurana was standing, looking over the toppled trees. She did not know how she survived, but as far as she could see, she was the only survivor. A fallen tree must have blocked the path of the wave. She found Jason’s dead body in the wreckage. She did not know what happened to Siathrar, or even the others who had been with them. In Jason’s pants was a concealed knife, which he probably would have used on Siathrar. She picked it up, testing its weight. She had never known true fear until the moment the star fell. Though his knife would be useless against a shooting star, she was determined she would never be defenseless against a human threat. She would learn the way of the knife.
Laurana walked away from the carnage, heading towards the village. She could see the extent of the destruction and it did not seem to go that far. Perhaps the village still stood. She walked towards the village, then broke down and wept, wept for her weakness and for all that she had lost. It was then that she heard the strange sound behind her and realized that she was not as alone as she had thought.
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About the Author:
Matthew Barrett is a graphic designer, writer, and illustrator who lives in the United States, in one of the fifty. For more information on Matthew Barrett, his books, and artwork, please visit his blog at:
https://sageeyesblog.wordpress.com and https://www.sage-eyes.com
Follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/sageeye
Follow me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/sageeyesbook
Buy the full version of the collection, with the main story, Fallen doubling the content, as well as original covers for each, at
Fallen and Other Short Stories, an Ebook by Matthew Barrett
First Contact Page 4