Elementalist: The New Inheritance

by Seever, Tyler

  What did this guy do? Lenthean always thought. Lenthean rolled over and gazed out of his window, staring into the moonlit sky. I just want to be something. I’m tired of being this nobody. I want to be something. Lenthean felt himself dozing off. I want to be something…

  I want to be something…

  ---

  The next morning, he had the same old conversation with his mother, who asked, “Okay, what do you say when the kids ask about the eye patch?”

  “I lost vision when I was in the fire. Ugh,” Lenthean groaned.

  “Okay, have a good day at school!” Ayla exclaimed. Lenthean walked off without acknowledgment to his mother. The door shut behind him. Ayla’s back was to Zuthar, who was sitting at the table eating. “So, do you really think you’re going to do it today?” Zuthar asked.

  “Yes.” Ayla responded, still facing the door. She nervously nibbled on her fingertips.

  “Are you going to tell him about the fire too?” Zuthar continued.

  “I’m going to tell him about everything.”

  “Do you want me to be here to help mediate?” Zuthar asked.

  Ayla paused. She turned around to face him. “Yes.”

  3: The Play

  “Have you grabbed your robe?” Ayla called to Lenthean. “It’s going to be chilly tonight at the show!”

  Lenthean climbed down the steep ladder-like stairs into view. “Yes, I have my jacket.” He smiled at his mom.

  “Lenthean, your—your, um—” She motioned to her eye, suggesting his eye patch was missing.

  Lenthean, frustrated, cried, “Gah! Can’t I not wear that thing for once? It’s dark outside; no one will see!”

  “You know the rules.” She shook her head at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled at the eye patch in his pocket. “Now, come on!” she motioned. “Don’t let this ruin your night. Zuthar is already there waiting for us! He saved us two seats!”

  Ayla walked with her son through the poorly lit village of Fredrickstown. His face met the chilly desert night air, and not too far out was a campfire where the performance was to take place.

  Lenthean’s mom gasped. “Come on!” she said. “They’ve already started!” Lenthean and his mother picked up pace and scanned the crowd for the slightly larger man who held their seats.

  “Pst! My boy!” Zuthar drew their attention through a hushed voice. He drew them in, and they sat on the wooden benches around the fire pit. The three performers were the same ones they always were, only in different roles this time.

  “What did we miss?” Lenthean overheard Ayla ask Zuthar.

  “Well, you missed the part where the Drakonas betrayed the free peoples to join the Der’ Tanel invasion on Denduthal. And now they’re—”

  “SHH!” Gaundore, Lenthean’s bully, shushed Zuthar. Lenthean rolled his eye—the one that was covered by eye patch, of course.

  Lenthean tuned in to the play.

  “It is YOU that will bow before me!” said a man with obviously fake pointed ears.

  “Please! Darthia? Joining Der’ Tanel and the Drakonas? You must be out of your mind!”

  The pointed-ear man replied to the other man dressed in royal attire, “Then we will not hesitate to kill all of these perfect children we have taken from you!” He placed a wooden sword at one of the small audience members participating in the show. The audience gasped in horror.

  “A monster you are, Erendar Eredas! And your brothers too! You won’t get away with this!”

  The performer in royal attire gasped, clearly acting the part. “Oh no!” he exclaimed. Two other actors with fake pointed ears emerged from the darkness and drew their wooden swords on the lone actor. “It’s the Brotherhood! The leaders of Der’ Tanel are here to slay these children! Why, cruel world? Why must they be so horrendous and terrible?!” he shouted at the sky. “You won’t get away with this, Eredas brothers! I will summon an army far greater than you can manage, and we will fight back so we can end your reign of terror on the world!”

  The audience rose in a standing ovation. The cast all began to bow and hold out their hats or bowls to catch spare change tossed at them. The royal man made his way around with a charter, approaching young boys roughly late teenage years. He approached Gaundore, and Lenthean overheard their conversation.

  “Are you fifteen or older, Son?”

  Gaundore stood and saluted the man. “Yes, Sir!”

  “Sign here and join the fight against the terrible Eredas brothers of Der’ Tanel, before they kill more innocent people!” Gaundore did sign.

  “Good, we will meet you here on horseback by week’s end,” the actor said to Gaundore.

  “Yes, Sir!” Gaundore confirmed.

  The man now made his way toward Lenthean.

  “Are you fifteen or older, Son?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” Lenthean replied, trying to avoid eye contact.

  “Sign this form, and join the army of the free peoples of Zanvia. Don’t let the country of Der’ Tanel take any more lives. Fight the Brotherhood—fight for freedom!”

  Lenthean eyed the parchment, and Ayla placed a hand on the man’s arm. “My boy will not be joining any army to go fighting. Thank you for your service, though, Sir.”

  The man let the charter fall to his side.

  Gaundore began to laugh at Lenthean. “Mommy won’t let you be a big boy, huh? Have to wear your eye patch, don’t you?! Don’t want to hurt your little eye, huh?”

  “I’ll put YOU in an eye patch!” Lenthean lunged at Gaundore as the man and Zuthar intervened, successfully stopping Lenthean in his tracks. “No, my boy!” Zuthar yelped as he struggled to keep balance.

  The man pulled away and adjusted the scroll to free itself from its wrinkles. “You’ve got a fire in you; we’re always looking for more recruits with that fire. If you would please reconsider for your son, we would love to have him. He would make a great difference in the world.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ayla denied. “At this time, we are not looking to have him join the army. Again, thank you folks for all you do out there.”

  Lenthean growled and began to storm home. Gaundore’s laughter trailed his walk back. “What a baby!” Gaundore shouted at Lenthean.

  Lenthean didn’t care anymore. All he wanted was to make a difference in the world. Joining the army would free him from this mundane life in Fredrickstown. He could get away from Gaundore. He could fight the evil armies of Der’ Tanel. He just wanted to make a difference.

  That’s all.

  4: The Runaway

  At school that day, they had gone over the standing army for the city of Darthia. A well-clad force equipped with the finest metals in all of the continent. Many of these soldiers dressed in a fine silver-white armor with sword and shield and fought ongoing battles against the kingdom of Der' Tanel. Darthia was one of the last great standing cities opposing the forces of Der' Tanel. They were always looking for recruits starting at the age of fifteen; that qualified Lenthean, as he was sixteen. But no matter—there's no way he could make it physically, or so the boy believed. Worse yet, his mother would never let him go.

  “Chop chop!” Zuthar snapped his fingers in Lenthean’s face.

  “Huh?!” Lenthean broke from his daydreams and looked down at the bloody apron he wore.

  Zuthar took his cleaver and began slicing thick chunks of meat. “Slice it like this,” Zuthar showed the lad how to chop the meat without shattering the bone. “Be careful, though.” Zuthar pointed to Lenthean’s covered eye. “You can see through only one of those things right now, and I don’t want you losing a finger, my boy.”

  Lenthean laughed, then mimicked his actions throughout his four hours after school.

  “All right, Lenthean.” Zuthar messed with Lenthean’s black hair. “I’m going to head back to your home. Your mother is making dinner for us. Finish cleaning up here and meet us back at the house.” Zuthar lifted his large arm and dropped several coins into the boy’s weary hands.

  Zuthar had left, so
the boy wiped down the counters, scrubbed, swept, everything Zuthar had instructed him how to do. Now it was time head home for the day. The boy made it to his house and shut the door behind him, only to find his mother and Zuthar quickly averting their attention to him as he stepped into the home. It was peculiar, and the pause felt like an eternity with their persistent staring. Something was happening.

  The boy could feel it.

  "What?" Lenthean asked, lifting his eye patch.

  Both Lenthean and his relatives were unblinking, staring at one another. "What took you so long?" Zuthar asked.

  "I was finishing up your shop… "

  "So you're not upset?" Zuthar pressed. Ayla elbowed Lenthean's uncle.

  "Upset about what?" Lenthean’s face grew concerned.

  "Lenthean. . . " his mother trembled. "There's something you need to know about."

  He could feel his heart picking up pace. What was this? Lenthean thought. The energy in the room felt tense and on edge, making Lenthean feel defensive in nature.

  "You need to know the truth," she continued.

  Lenthean met Zuthar’s eyes. Zuthar had an expression like he hadn't seen before, as if he was readying for a fight; but Lenthean was still not sure.

  "What is this about?" Lenthean questioned.

  "Your coverings," Ayla said.

  He stared in disbelief, heart beating faster and faster.

  "What is it, Mother?" Lenthean pressed firmly. Zuthar took a small step forward. Then she began…

  ---

  "I'm home, Ayla!" the man announced, entering the home. Ayla ran toward him and leapt into his arms. He swirled her around as they both laughed in merriment. "I have missed you, Honey." Ayla exclaimed.

  "I have missed you too," he returned. They hugged and kissed, continuing to hold one another. He felt her every fiber of hair as he ran his fingers through it. Their hug was firm, yet tender. Not breaking the hug, Ayla asked, "You weren't followed, were you?"

  "No, I wasn't."

  "I'm so frightened," Ayla said.

  "Don't be. Everything is under control. Der' Tanel has no idea where I am."

  She broke and made eye contact.

  He was hesitant. "But. . . We really should consider what's best for our child." He placed a hand on her stomach. "Have you picked a name?" he asked.

  "I really like the name Lenthean," Ayla responded.

  The man smirked and replied, "As do I."

  She smiled back, and they embraced in yet another hug.

  The night went on, and they sat by the fireplace, her head in his lap as he stroked her hair. Her eyes followed his arm when it fell into her field of view.

  "Your markings are more prominent in bright light," she noted. He lifted his forearm to analyze his markings.

  "Yes, they seem to be extra sensitive to light."

  "What is it like?" Ayla questioned. "What is it like to control shadows?"

  He was silent and stared into the flames, remembering it all.

  "Terrifying," he replied.

  She looked concerned.

  "All I see is blackness. Demons. It all surrounds my every thought. I cannot escape it."

  She pulled his forearm down and looked at his markings, sweeping her gentle fingers across them. "The eye on your arm is so intriguing," she said. "It's almost like it stares right back at you. . . right through you."

  "It's fear," he explained. "I am the literal manifestation of fear, and darkness. . . I am with the shadows. I'm sorry for everything I have put you through, Ayla."

  "I would've done it all again," she said. "For you, for us. For him," she said, placing his hands on her stomach.

  He held her firmly then continued, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there more for us. I couldn't have asked for someone more understanding. The world hunts me down, like an animal."

  "But you are no animal—not to me," she countered.

  "I love you," he said.

  "I love you too," she replied.

  They both drifted off into sleep in a close embrace by the fire. The flame slowly trickled to embers, then to nothing.

  Hours slipped away during their slumber.

  As the early sun rose, the door exploded open. “Quynn!" Zuthar yelled from the doorway. The man jumped from his sleep, as did Ayla. They separated from their embrace.

  Up in arms, Quynn exclaimed, "Zuthar! What brings you in so soon?"

  Zuthar, winded, exclaimed, "The scouts have lit the beacons. They're. . . " Out of breath, Zuthar continued, "They're coming for you. The Der' Tanellians! They're riding on horseback not more than five leagues from Fredrickstown!"

  Quynn rose to his feet and looked to Ayla. Ayla looked up at him from the bench, tears quickly welling up in her eyes.

  "Quynn. . . " Zuthar pressed. "What are we going to do? If they find you here, they’ll take Ayla too!"

  Quynn grabbed Ayla's face and kissed her. "Tell my son I love him," Quynn said, breaking free from Ayla's grip. "And that I am sorry."

  "NO!" Ayla wailed as she chased after him out the door. Zuthar chased after Quynn as well.

  "STAY BACK!" Quynn barked at Ayla. "THEY CANNOT FIND YOU. OR THEY WILL KILL YOU AND OUR BOY."

  She continued to bawl as she fell to her knees under the rising sun. Quynn took off in full sprint toward the exit of Fredrickstown. Zuthar, still chasing him and completely out of breath, yelled, "Quynn! STOP!"

  Quynn was tall and athletic, clearly outrunning the stout Zuthar. "STOP!" Zuthar continued, his voice echoing from a distance. Ayla's bawling was profuse.

  Zuthar stopped at the town's gates, gasping for air. In a massive open field on the outskirts of town, Quynn could clearly see the riders making their way for Fredrickstown. Quynn turned around to make one final call to Zuthar. "GET HER INSIDE! DO NOT LET THEM FIND HER. PROMISE ME!"

  Zuthar, powerless against Quynn's decision, nodded, feeling some emotion and knowing what was about to happen.

  Quynn whipped around and charged on foot toward the horsemen, still a league or so away.

  Zuthar fumbled back behind a tall wooden post at the town's entrance, watching and waiting to witness what would happen.

  Quynn threw his arms forward, screeching into the air like a banshee. He launched himself into the air. He threw several kicks, spinning like a whirlwind of wrath. When his feet met ground, he shot both of his arms into the air, striking with force, fingers extended like a those of a porcupine.

  Zuthar witnessed nearly two hundred horsemen, forty of which were immediately impaled by their own shadows. Like daggers, Quynn's motions slammed the shadows of the horsemen through their chests like blades. Zuthar had never seen such a display of power. The earth began to shake violently, nearly knocking Zuthar off balance. Black smog with a dark purple hue exploded from Quynn, and he sunk into the ground as if there was nothing solid about him at all.

  Instantaneously, Quynn emerged from the earth behind his foes and shot his limbs into an X formation. His shadow ripped from the Earth's surface and slashed through several unsuspecting horsemen. Blood sprayed everywhere; limbs fell everywhere. Severed heads were losing their helmets; even as far away as he stood, Zuthar could hear spears and swords clanking against the ground. Quynn fought ferociously against the Der' Tanellians, engulfing multiple horsemen at a time in black smog and crushing them one by one.

  Their horses were out of control at this violent commotion. Quynn fought hard.

  Suddenly Zuthar's heart sank into his stomach.

  Quynn had been impaled by an arrow.

  Quynn fell to his knees, and his eyes matched Zuthar's from a distance. Zuthar felt like he was staring into Quynn's soul, as this moment seemed to last a lifetime. It was the last time he would ever match eyes with Quynn. At that moment Zuthar lifted his hand, wishing for what he was witnessing to stop.

  Quynn fell to the ground, the arrow killing him almost instantly. The horses regained composure and the Der' Tanellian forces swarmed the fallen body of Quynn Argerod. Zuthar came to the realizatio
n that he needed to perform Quynn's wishes—to protect Ayla. So he turned and ran to attend to Ayla, still bawling in front of her wooden home. As he approached her sobbing in the dirt, he picked her up by the shoulders and threw her into the home, slamming the door and locking it behind them.

  ---

  Lenthean stared at the two. Tears and anger flowed from him visibly. He could just hear it. . . The screams. . . The agony. . . that day. He could picture it all.