by Levi Samuel
Ravion stared into his father's eyes, frozen at the sight. The silence was deafening. As if the drums of war were inverted and pounding in his chest. The long pause between beats consumed him. His gaze shifted to the blade protruding from his father's chest. A red stain soaked into the cloth, expanding around the wound. Did they use me as a distraction? Why didn't I listen? Is this my fault? He hadn't realized he was continuing toward his father. Stopping just out of reach, he felt the tears trickle down his cheeks. He felt numb. Reaching out, he saw a pain in his father’s eyes. One he’d never seen before.
The elder dalari fell to his knees, helpless against his murderer. He looked up, pleading to his successor. “Teradun, please—” he coughed, blood spurting from his mouth, “Please, spare my son. He’s just a boy. I know you’re following orders, but allowing a single child to live cannot make much of a difference.”
The alfar glanced at the boy. He didn't look like much. Scrawny and dirty with a dull short sword. One child won't make a difference. But when he ages, with the training he's undoubtedly been given, he'll make a formidable opponent. Not to mention, he'll most likely seek revenge for this day. Is it worth having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? The dalari are near immortal and extremely resourceful. He may not find me for a thousand years, but one day he will. Returning his attention to the dying dalari, he made his decision. “Don’t beg, Marquel. It’s unbecoming. Your family has evaded us far too long. Standing orders set forth by Emperor Jullien the Third, and reissued by Emperor Jullien the Fifth declare, 'All dalari must die.' You know this.” A smirk stretched across his face. He was taking joy in his assignment. Placing his booted foot next to the embedded sword, Teradun gave a hefty kick, pulling the blade free. Timing it perfectly, he spun around, lowering the razor edge to the correct height. The sword passed through Marquel's neck with little effort causing a small amount of blood to spray from the wound, spattering across the boy's face.
Ravion watched his father's head roll from his body. It landed hard on the ground, bouncing a little before coming to a stop. His fist clenched in silent rage. He felt his knuckles pop in protest. He could not stand for this. His father, his mother— everyone he'd ever known was gone. They would pay dearly for this. He felt a cool breeze blow across his face. He didn't know why, but it made him remember his training. His father's words echoed in his head. ‘Clear your mind. A clouded mind makes a reckless combatant.'
Ravion took a deep, but controlled breath, releasing the anger building inside him. Revenge was not the way of his people, nor was justice. His people held balance above all else. The scales had finally tilted in his favor. Forcing all that was and all that was going to be from his mind, he exhaled slowly. The only thing that mattered was this one moment. The moment when he would have to kill or be killed. Pushing his thoughts and emotions aside, Ravion lifted his sword, ready to defend himself.
Teradun calmly approached the child. He wouldn't be careless. After all, the child was surely trained. He'd never met a dalari who wasn't. Stopping just out of the short sword’s reach, he took aim, preparing to cut the boy down with his first strike. Like a flash of lightning he struck, the blade cracking out like thunder.
Ravion brought his training sword up at the exact moment. He didn’t know how, but his dull sword acted as if it had a mind of its own. His reflexes responded of their own accord, rescuing him from the sting of the alfaren blade. He stared up at the towering hydralfar, sharing a moment of surprise by his actions.
Caught off-guard the alfar took a step back, keeping his sword at the ready. How did he move that fast? Pressing again he brought the blade down, adding strength and speed to the lethal attack.
Ravion felt his arms react. He brought the training sword up to defend as he had before. The weaker metal flexed beneath the force of the blow. He heard it snap, seeing the shattered pieces splinter toward him. Jagged shards flew past his face, leaving shallow cuts in his flesh. Staggering from the unexpected blow, Ravion dropped the shattered weapon, grabbing his cut face. Forcing his resolve, he brought his bloody hands way, seeing the red fluid drip into the dirt. Several fragments of his sword laid among the blood, informing him he was unarmed. Taking a step back, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this.
Teradun smiled. “Your kind is nearly extinct. You no longer have the ability to defend yourself. And when I'm finished, the dalari will be nothing more than a distant memory.”
Ravion stood defiantly against the alfar. He had to survive. He had to find his siblings and make sure they grew up. 'A clouded mind makes a reckless combatant!' The words echoed in his head a second time, as if his father watched over him, guiding him in this fight. “Your task is for naught. You've spend your life in pursuit of my kind. I may not have been around when your emperor gave this order, but I will not stand by while you commit genocide against my people. I promise you, I'll survive and I'll find them, wherever they are. And when that day comes, we'll rise from the ashes and remove any trace of this outdated and idiotic order from both our histories. I don't know why you wish us dead, but I'll find out. I'm just sad your emperor will be long dead before that day comes.” Ravion took a step closer to the alfar, purposely placing himself within his attacker's reach.
Teradun felt his blood boil with the defiant child's words. Unfortunately, he was too close to effectively cut him down. But he would not allow words against his emperor to go unpunished. Bringing his gauntleted fist down, he caught the child across the cheek.
The impact launched Ravion from his feet. He felt the impression of the hardened leather across his face. For the briefest of moments he was weightless, flying through the air. His face hurt, but it had to feel better than a sword cutting into him. He collided with something hard but forgiving, forcing the air from his lungs. Panic rushed through him, causing him to spasm where he laid. Focusing on his task he calmed himself, controlling his breathing. Looking around, he found a pile of alfaren bodies beneath him. Rolling from the mound of death, he searched for anything that could help him. The sight of his father's body drew him in. His gaze locked on the longsword lying in the dirt, a few feet away. Climbing to his hands and knees he looked around, locating his attacker. Teradun was over fifteen steps away, whereas the sword was just out of reach. Ravion smiled, he had plenty of time to get the sword before the alfar would be upon him again. He launched forward and grabbed the weapon. Continuing around, he rolled to his feet standing with sword in hand.
The alfar smirked, making his way for the armed child.
Ravion took a defensive stance, lifting the surprisingly light weapon. It weighed barely half what his training sword did. Raising the blade, he prepared for the next assault. A single heartbeat felt like a lifetime, watching the alfar tower over him. As before he reacted with pure instinct, deflecting the multitude of blows raining down upon him. He felt a bit of joy watching his attacker struggle against him. He didn't have much of a plan, but this was working. Each unsuccessful strike granted him more time for his next action.
Sweat poured from the exhausted alfar as he swung wildly, trying to get past the young dalari's defenses. Unable to find weakness in the miniature form, he was rapidly growing tired.
Ravion felt his strength growing. Even the sweat he'd felt clinging to his skin was beginning the fade. He took a deep breath, allowing the calm to flow through him. He was connected to everything and nothing. Like a bystander watching his own body, witnessing the world around him with superior knowledge of its events. The entire battle quickly played out before him. He watched in shock, reliving his father's death. Only this time his emotions remained in check. He reviewed everything up to his current point, but it didn't stop there. The battle was moving forward, revealing details that hadn't yet come to pass. The vision, as best he could figure, played to its conclusion. He knew he was still fighting, and judging by the fact that he hadn’t felt any pain, he was still alive. Feeling himself sink back into his body he deflected a quick jab from the towering a
lfar, as his vision revealed. Each action played out exactly as he'd seen. The precise moment was coming fast.
Teradun swung hard, overextending himself.
Ravion watched the opening present a perfect target, just as he'd seen. Seizing the opportunity, he thrust the longsword up, straight into the leather plates. The blade sank deep with minor resistance. Surely he'd pierced a vital organ. Twisting the blade slightly he was rewarded in blood running down the polished steel, showering him in the crimson life-fluid.
The alfar fell to his knees before the young dalari, his bright red blood steadily pumping from the lethal wound.
Ravion pulled the sword free, taking a step back to keep from being crushed by the large opponent.
Teradun stared curiously at the child before him. How could a child not only hold me off, but defeat me? Unable to take another breath he fell to the unforgiving ground, his blood pooling beneath him.
Ravion watched the life fade from the alfar's dulling eyes. He stood as victor over the alfar responsible for his father’s death. He watched the life leave his enemy, feeling no remorse, nor pride in what he'd done. It was simply something that had to happen and he was destined to accomplish it.
Hours passed, leaving the fading sun a soft glow on the horizon. Several fires burned brightly, illuminating the barren street.
Ravion knelt down beside the forest road, studying the tracks. There were clearly fresh hoof prints, but that didn't explain where his siblings were. The alfar didn't have horses as far as he’d seen, so it was unlikely they went to Eastwood.
“Alexzandra where are you?” His question was answered with silence. He felt the pain of losing his parents begin to grow within him, and now his siblings were missing. He searched the grove for what had to have been the hundredth time. The flowers remained where she’d been, trampled and wilting. A few drops of dried blood rested on the stems and petals, but not enough to suggest serious injury. Large, booted footprints covered the area in all directions, but they clearly came from town. Nothing suggested they returned with captives. Even if he knew who else had been here the tracks were too numerous to locate a single set.
Ravion glanced at the final slither of sunlight, disappearing behind the trees. “It's time,” He admitted, knowing no one was around to hear him. Pulling a small stone from the pouch strapped to his side, he secured the torch he'd brought with him. Quickly, he struck the flint rock against his father's sword. The sparks danced to life, finding refuge in the oil-soaked cloth. It flared to life, illuminating the area. He raised it overhead and waved it back and forth, signaling the others.
A group of just over a dozen children, the oldest one looking to be a few years younger than Ravion, approached carrying what few belongings they could manage wrapped up in blankets and old packs. They stopped in front of him, awaiting orders.
“The path seems clear. If you walk all night you should reach Eastwood by midday. Tell the guards what happened and they'll make sure you're taken care of. Joshua, Carin, take these.” Ravion handed two of the dull training swords to the oldest of the group. “Hopefully you won't have to use them, but it's better than nothing. Don't stop, don't split up, and don't leave the road. Take the torch. If you have to stop for the night use it to make a campfire off the road. You don't want to draw unwanted attention, but you also don't want to be caught unaware in the dark either. Good luck.”
The small group set out, disappearing into the shadows of night.
Ravion watched their light shrink in the distance. He couldn't help but wonder if his siblings had already headed that way. Returning to town, he wondered if the children would make it to Eastwood. Short of going along, he'd given them every opportunity to survive. It was on them now. It's for the best. They aren't in any condition to assist me anyway. With a heavy sigh, Ravion lit another torch and tossed it into a pile of straw he'd layered inside the tailor's shop. The fire flared to life, quickly spreading to the walls and ceiling. Within moments it encompassed the bodies within. Watching through the inflamed doorway, he could see their flesh blister and char from the heat. It was a burden no child should have to bear. But he was the only one to carry it. The others didn't need to face this with him. They'd seen enough already. Their homes were gone. The best he could offer them was a chance at survival.
Hiding his exposed flesh from the heat, he stuck another torch into the flame. Carrying it to another building, he tossed it in, letting the flame engulf the wooden structure in a matter of minutes. The alfaren bodies piled inside didn't deserve to be laid to rest with their victims. It'd taken the better part of the day to sort and pile them, but it was the right thing to do. Nearly everything he could find to burn was piled with them. It would take a great amount of heat to properly dispose of their bodies, and the fires would be seen for miles, but it was better than leaving them to rot in the streets. Leaving them to be consumed by the flames, he returned to the cabin atop the hill. His parents were wrapped in several layers of cloth and laid to rest peacefully in their bed. It wasn't quite according to tradition, but it would have to suffice.
The once beautiful village of Winterhaven was now barren and dark. The moonlight made the blood soaked streets glow and the numerous pyres coated the ruined village in ash.
Grabbing his father's backpack, he tossed a few sets of clothes into the bottom. It would have to be rearranged, but first he needed to load up. He tied a slightly larger pair of boots to the side. It would give him something to grow into. Rolled a thick woolen blanket inside his bedroll, Ravion strapped it to the bottom of the bag to save room. Searching every room in the house, he grabbed anything he thought he might need. The bag was nearly overflowing, but he continued packing. His father's whetstone fit perfectly into the side pocket, along with the flint rock. Pulling the drawstring taut, he heaved it over his shoulders, and made for his parent's room. He wasn’t quite strong enough to carry the bag. But the supplied would run low soon enough. By them, maybe he’d be equipped for life on his own. Stopping at the side of their bed, he stared at the blood-soaked blanket covering their still forms. Laying the bag to rest at his side, he offered a warrior’s salute. “Mother, Father, thank you both for teaching me the value of life and the responsibility of death. I'll uphold the traditions of our people as best I can and honor the balance entrusted to me by my birthright. If I can find our people, I'll do my part to lead us into a new era.”
Pulling the blanket back enough to see their faces, he placed a silver coin over each of his parents' eyes. Lifting his pack, he turned to leave the room, snatching his father's belt and sheath on his way out. It was too large for small stature, but with a few simple modifications it would fit. Locating his father's leather tools, he quickly sized the belt and tossed the smaller tools into one of the size pockets on the pack. Sheathing the sword, he tested his draw. It was a bit too long to draw smoothly, but he would grow into it.
The last things he needed were food and coin. It would take some time before he could make either on his own. Stepping into the common room, he pulled a chair over to the hearth and climbed up. The small chest resting atop the wide ledge was filled to the brim with gold, silver, and gems. Provided he could manage it properly, he shouldn't have to worry about funds for at least a few years. Grabbing a leather pouch, he poured the contents in and tossed it in the pack. If he’d packed right, he would have just enough room for a month’s worth of rations.
Rummaging the cupboards, he stuffed the last bit of dried meat, fruit, and bread into his bag and double checked everything, making sure he hadn't missed anything. Time was upon him. It would be daylight soon and he needed to get on the road. Hopefully Alexzandra and Demetrix would be waiting for him at Eastwood. Reaching the door, he paused, grabbed the oil lamp resting on the corner table. With a final look around, he memorized every detail. He'd never see this home again and such a memory would have to keep him going.
Sighing deeply, Ravion tossed the lantern as hard as he could. It shattered on the floor, spilling flaming
oil all over the wooden planks. Smoke billowed and the flame climbed the walls. Within moments, the cedar shingles were ablaze, burning away his past. Ravion turned and marched toward the forest road, ready to face what tomorrow held. He didn't know where he was going, but if any part of his family was still out there, it was his duty to find them. It was a large world and he needed to search as much of it as possible. If nothing else maybe he could find and reunite the remaining dalari. His people needed to be led into a new age. Maybe he would be the one to guide them.
The sun was beginning to set over the high mountain peaks. Flakes of white blew all around, landing comfortably on the sleet covered ground. Several thin evergreens stood, waving in the breeze of the cool evening air. Among the rocky peaks and thinning trees, a man stood at the cliff’s edge, overlooking the world below. He was young in appearance, but his demeanor held years beyond his appearance.
Over two hundred years had passed since a young child set out from a burning home in search of his people. Over two hundred years of journeys and quests in exchange for information. Over two hundred years of puzzles, all leading him to this one place. And finally, he was here.
Ravion stood at the mountain peaks looking into the wind. The frozen specks clung to his face, landing in dark contrast to his black cloak and navy blue garments. The sight before him filled his mind. He stared into the distance, feeling the snow and wind surround him. Pulling his cloak tight around his thin frame, he squinted through the clouds to the world below.
Several kingdoms rested as far as the eye could see, each one holding secrets of their own. A long wall stretched across the land, sealing the northern lands from the south with a single outpost in the center. He couldn't help but feel helpless at the sight of the lands stretching as far as the eye could see. But the rumors and information he'd gathered sent him here, to the birthplace of the dreualfar, to the ancient lands of his people before their mistake.