The Sun Guardian

by T. S. Cleveland

  Vivid crossed the terrain the same way he’d crossed through high grasses or village roads, with polished steps and a severe posture. His trim figure was a black silhouette, and the only color Scorch could see was the stark white of his hands as they swung lightly at his sides.

  “What’s in the desert?” Scorch asked after they had set their pace.

  “There are creatures in the desert that fear the light. They’ll leave us alone if we cross during the day,” said Vivid.

  “And if we don’t make it across in time?”

  “They don’t fear the dark.”

  “Care to be less vague?” Scorch pressed.

  For a moment, the only sound was of boots crunching over desolate earth, and then Vivid spoke. “Cannibals dwell beneath the ground. They come out at night to hunt. They are fast and they are monstrous, and if they catch us, they will eat us alive.”

  “Ah.” Scorch glanced over at Kio, who reflected his look of dread while also maintaining her usual air of calm. It was quite spectacular, those dual expressions, and he wondered how she managed it.

  “So we cross the desert before the next sunset,” Kio said pleasantly, adding to the conversation for the first time that morning.

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” Scorch muttered beneath his breath.

  Their pace was brisk and their timing was immaculate. As the sky began its somersault of colors, Vivid stopped. Scorch walked up beside him and examined the toes of their boots, which skirted the precipice of sand. Beyond, the desert waited.

  Scorch squinted, but he definitely did not see any cannibals running around out there. The sun was barely up; they must have been extremely light-sensitive monsters. What he did see was an array of strange plant life: spiky, waxy flowers and dry bushes that looked to be made up entirely of thorns and bleached bones. He had expected rolling hills of sand, dunes, like in his geography studies at the Guild, but everything was astoundingly flat.

  “Before sunset,” Vivid cautioned, and then he took the first step forward, from dirt to sand.

  Scorch had never seen where a desert started and stopped, but he certainly hadn’t pictured its beginning being so abrupt. It was not what he’d been expecting, but he supposed he should have expected that.

  Vivid walked quickly, having to take twice as many steps as Scorch to stay ahead of him, and Kio kept diligently at their side. There was a feeling of foreboding in the air. Scorch could sense it keenly. It made his fingertips burn with anticipation.

  They walked for hours as the sun rode high overhead. The day was unapologetically blue and cloudless and so warm that if Scorch had been wearing one of his undershirts, he might have taken it off. Instead, he sipped thirstily at his canteen and spoke little. Kio hummed a tune at his side and Vivid said nothing at all, just stared straight ahead and kept his feet jetting across the sand. Focused.

  Kio pointed out the Peggotty Lush-fern as they walked by, a fat, shrubbish plant with black and white nettles and pink pistols.

  “I would stop and clip some of its roots if we had the time,” she sighed. But they didn’t have the time.

  She fussed a bit over Scorch’s ankle, trying to look at it while he walked, and he had to assure her it was feeling fine. His bruised side was hurting, and his stab wounds were still sore—he wondered if they would always be a bother—but he was okay, considering. She eventually stopped trying to change his bandages en route, but her concern only brought Vivid’s injury to the front of Scorch’s mind.

  Vivid walked smoothly, but he was still avoiding the use of his left arm, and as Scorch stared at his back, he could picture the moon-white skin beneath all that black leather, the silver scars etched into every inch, the puncture in his shoulder. He wished they had time to stop, only for a moment, only so Scorch could check beneath the bandage and see if Vivid was still bleeding, only so he could make sure it didn’t need more ointment. But they didn’t have the time.

  They kept walking.

  Every quarter mile or so, Scorch would see a divot in the sand. Once, as they passed one, he peered down to examine it closer and saw the slender black opening of a tunnel. He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and doubled his speed for a few minutes, trying to ignore Vivid’s silent protest when he walked ahead of him. He slowed down marginally after a time, but not by much. He didn’t want to see what dwelled inside that tunnel. Every time he saw another divot nearby, he held his breath until they passed it. Scorch did not like the desert.

  He didn’t think Julian would have liked it either. Scorch tried to imagine him walking beside them, but he couldn’t. Kio’s words pierced him, making him question whether Julian would have been strong enough, focused enough to keep up. For her part, Kio didn’t appear to be having any trouble. She was neither winded nor wary. It helped that she was absent of injury. Scorch didn’t feel especially worn out yet either, even though the sun was getting to be a bit much, even for his naturally tan skin. It was less of a problem for Kio for the same reason. But Vivid? Scorch kept an eye on him. The other man’s skin was diamond-bright with the reflection of the sun. His face, usually a static spread of white, was reddening around the cheeks and brow. He was burning.

  As Scorch studied the pink, sweat-dewed skin, something strange began to happen. Beneath Vivid’s eye, over the sharp slope of his cheekbone, the skin began to move. Scorch watched, wide-eyed, as a blister bubbled up from the flesh, and then another beside it, and another. Smoke was rising from the burning plane of Vivid’s face. Scorch grabbed Vivid’s hand, stopping them in the middle of the desert to pull him close.

  “Don’t touch me,” Vivid snapped.

  Scorch blinked and Vivid’s skin was smooth and untouched once more. “But, I saw—” Scorch began weakly.

  Vivid shoved him away. “Focus,” he said before he continued walking.

  Scorch tried, but it became increasingly difficult when more and more images coming into focus were things that couldn’t possibly be real. Vivid’s face didn’t burn anymore, but there was fire. Scorch saw it in the distance, a bluster of flames, and inside the flames were shapes, two bodies, trapped. Scorch could almost smell the burning flesh.

  “Mom,” he whispered.

  Kio took hold of his hand and forced him to keep walking. Scorch kept his eyes on the fire and his parents burning inside it, but he knew it wasn’t real. He knew he had to stay focused. His parents were already dead. They had already burned. The fire coloring the edge of his vision was a trick. Scorch made himself look away. He focused on the backside of the man walking in front of him. It wasn’t the worst distraction in the world.

  He was trying so hard not to be drawn in by the crackling fire in his periphery that when Vivid stopped walking, Scorch ran right into him.

  “Sorry,” he apologized.

  Vivid spun around and looked up at Scorch with huge eyes. His pupils were blown, and the amethyst was a thin ring around a pool of black. That should not have been possible, not with the sun beaming down on them.

  “Vivid,” Scorch breathed. “Are you okay?”

  Kio let go of Scorch’s hand and reached out to touch Vivid’s shoulder. Scorch didn’t have time to warn her against it before Vivid’s fist lashed out and caught the side of Kio’s jaw. Her head snapped back and she stumbled.

  “Vivid!” Scorch yelled, torn between gawking at Vivid, and seeing if Kio was okay, but then Vivid started screaming and that made Scorch’s choice much easier.

  He forgot about Kio. Vivid’s skin was clammy with sweat and his eyes were wild. He was facing Scorch, but it was as if he was looking straight through him, seeing something horrible. He screamed again, a terrible, pathetic sound, and his hands scratched at the collar of his cuirass, his fingers grappling desperately at his neck.

  “Vivid,” Scorch said again in his most commanding tone. “Vivid, focus.” But Vivid wasn’t comprehending him, wasn’t hearing him. His body was trembling and another scream ripped free as he stared at an invisible terror. “Kio, what do we do? What
do we do?”

  But before Kio could tell Scorch what they could do, Vivid ran.

  “Gods!” Scorch yelled, darting after him.

  Kio ran behind him, calling to him in a voice as close to panic as he’d ever heard from her. “Scorch, stop! We’ll lose the light! Scorch! Let him go!”

  Scorch blocked her out. He blocked out everything in the desert that wasn’t Vivid’s body racing away. Vivid was fast, and Scorch thanked the Gods for making him tall, because his superior leg span was the only reason why he was able to catch up. Even then, it took longer than it should have.

  He was huffing exhaustedly by the time Vivid was close enough to reach out and grab, and Scorch clutched at a tuft of hair and yanked him off his feet. Vivid crashed to the ground with a cry, and Scorch scooped him off the ground, holding him tight so he couldn’t struggle free and escape. Vivid’s whole body bucked, and his feet kicked off the ground. His eyes were squeezed shut, like he couldn’t bear to have them open any longer.

  Scorch heard Kio padding up to his side. “He can’t focus,” she said, not sounding nearly as out of breath as Scorch. “He doesn’t know what’s real.”

  Vivid thrashed so ferociously that his entire weight was supported in Scorch’s arms. “Vivid,” Scorch said.

  Vivid sobbed and a tear rolled down his sunburnt cheek. It was terrible, and it startled Scorch into more forceful action. He pressed his thumb into Vivid’s left shoulder, right in the puncture wound.

  Vivid’s eyes flew open.

  “Come back,” Scorch demanded, digging in his thumb.

  Vivid’s eyes were still hazed and dilated, but his lips reacted to the pain, parting on a tortured groan.

  “That’s it,” Scorch whispered. He let his thumbnail dig into the wound and held a gasping Vivid in his arms. “Come back. Vivid.” Kio was pacing behind him. “Come on.” He let go of one of Vivid’s shoulders long enough to backhand him across the face. It made his chest tighten, but when he saw the pupils shrinking in Vivid’s eyes, he did it again. He pressed and prodded at the shoulder wound as much as he dared without causing serious damage. “Vivid,” he whispered, licking his lips. “It’s Scorch. Come back to me.”

  Vivid’s eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed, no longer struggling. Scorch lowered him to the ground.

  “We can’t stay here,” Kio said, casting a nervous glance at the sky.

  “I’ll carry him,” said Scorch, lifting Vivid’s body in his arms like a ragdoll.

  “He’ll slow us down,” she said, and Scorch scowled at her. He didn’t usually scowl, but Kio’s cool adamancy had wrenched it from him. He held Vivid’s limp body against his chest.

  “He won’t slow me down,” Scorch said. He turned in a circle, looking up at the sky, and then back at Kio with a frown. “Which way is east?”

  “This way,” she answered, pointing behind them. “I think.”

  Scorch looked up at the sky again, looking for the sun, but his eyes felt blurry. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. He could see Kio fine, and Vivid’s face was crystal clear, but every time he tried to find the sun, he couldn’t. Kio was having the same problem.

  “We lost the sun when we lost our focus,” she said. “The desert’s playing tricks on us.”

  “Well, we can’t stand here and do nothing. Pick your favorite direction and we’ll start walking.”

  Chasing Vivid had taken them off course and they couldn’t even trace their footprints back to where they’d started because the wind had blown them away. Kio ended up seeing an interesting plant in the distance and led them in that direction, whatever direction that might have been.

  Scorch walked behind her, navigating the tunnel divots underfoot, which seemed to be multiplying the farther they ventured. He hoped that was a good sign. He hoped it meant they were making progress.

  Vivid was no trouble to carry, and, in fact, it made Scorch feel more useful than he had in days. Perhaps, he mused, when his guardianship was over and the High Priestess was safe, Scorch could specialize in person-toting, though he didn’t imagine most other people would be as pleasant to tote as Vivid. He was thinking how much more amiable Vivid was when he was unconscious, when Vivid’s eyes opened.

  “Oh.” Scorch stopped walking. “Kio, he’s awake.”

  Vivid’s eyes were clear at last, his pupils tiny dots beneath the glare of the un-findable sun, but it still took him a moment to figure out his strange surroundings. Scorch knew it the second he did, because he could feel Vivid’s body tense against his chest.

  “Put. Me. Down,” Vivid growled.

  Scorch put him down, but he kept a hand on Vivid’s back until he was sure he could stand on his own, or until Vivid slapped him away. As pleasant as an unconscious Vivid was, it was impossible not to prefer him now, awake and fierce, with murder in his eyes. Scorch was considering whether to ask Vivid how he was feeling, when Vivid looked up at the sky.

  “You shouldn’t have run after me,” he said.

  Scorch wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You remember all of that?”

  “We won’t make it,” Vivid said, dutifully pretending he hadn’t heard Scorch’s question. “We lost the sun when we lost our focus.”

  “That’s what Kio said.”

  Vivid wasn’t studying Scorch or Kio, but the long-away horizon. “The desert won’t let us cross in time.”

  Scorch shot Kio a worried glance. “But we haven’t been lost for that long.”

  “Your perception can’t be trusted,” Vivid said. “Chances are you were wandering aimlessly for hours.”

  “How is that possible?” Scorch asked. It had been less than ten minutes since he’d picked Vivid up in his arms.

  “Because you lost your focus,” Vivid hissed. “Look.” He pointed to the horizon. “The sky is already growing darker.”

  Scorch could feel the rapid pulse in his fingertips as he surveyed the distant sky. Sure enough, light blue was already making way for a deep, velvety sapphire. “It was not that dark a second ago,” he argued.

  “It will only get darker.” Vivid unsheathed the daggers from his wrists. “They’ll come when the last light has gone. I’d get out that sword.”

  Scorch and Kio both readied their weapons. Vivid appraised them warily. “Do you have anything flammable in that pack?” he asked, glaring at Kio.

  “Just the flint,” she answered, turning hopelessly toward Scorch.

  “I don’t have anything flammable except underclothes,” he insisted.

  “Then we outrun them until they catch us, and then we fight them until we can’t.”

  Scorch’s head felt sick with fever. His hand was moist around the grip of his sword and he had to wipe his palms against his trousers. He looked at the sky and still couldn’t see the sun, but he could see the colors deepening, and he could see the sorry splinter of moon hanging low, waiting for its turn.

  “How fast are they?” Scorch asked quietly. “Can we outrun them?”

  A high-pitched wail sounded in the distance and Vivid sneered. “Let’s find out.”

  Vivid cut a clear path through the sand, which Scorch and Kio zealously followed. They were already losing the last of the light, and Scorch was running as fast as he could. His ankle was swelling up, he could feel the ooze seeping through his bandage, and he worried his feet might snap off at the ankles, but he kept running. When only a faint, balmy blue light lit the sand, the divots scattered across the desert began echoing with more high-pitched wails. The black holes, the mouths of the tunnels, looked ominous and awful in the almost-darkness.

  And then all the sunlight was gone.

  The worst thing about it was that Scorch’s eyes had already adjusted to the lack of light, so when the pale fingers crept from the divots, Scorch could see them perfectly, wriggling like worms. The wails became louder and more frequent as they ran. Vivid tried to lead them as far away from the divots as he could, but there were too many. As they ran past one, an entire hand shot out, reaching
for Scorch’s ankle. He leapt away from its touch and pushed his speed even faster, but his heart was heavy with the impossibility. They were directionless.

  Ahead of him, he could already tell that Vivid was losing steam. Whatever the desert had made him see had weakened him. Scorch made a decision as they ran. He wouldn’t leave Vivid if he fell. He wouldn’t leave Kio either. Either they made it out of the desert together, or they all died. The latter seemed the likelier of outcomes when he felt the vibrations beneath his feet.

  He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Faster!” he yelled. “Run faster!”

  Behind them, a hundred fleshy, humanoid creatures bolted after them, and more were crawling from tunnels and joining in the chase. Scorch watched one pop out of its hole and grab for Vivid, only missing by an inch. Their wails filled the air as more and more crawled from the earth. They were gathering ahead of them, their heads reared back, their mouths gaping. Vivid changed directions, but the longer they ran, no matter the path, the more creatures were freed from their holes. The room to run was shrinking quickly. They would be surrounded in seconds.

  Vivid stopped, falling into a defensive stance, his twin daggers gleaming in the scant light of the stars. Scorch skidded on his heels and stopped beside him, their shoulders pressing together. Kio was at their backs, her sword held aloft. Scorch looked down at Vivid, breathing hard. A gust of wind sent his dark hair flying back from his face.

  “This isn’t how I thought I would die,” Scorch panted. “Tell me, do I at least look ruggedly handsome and brave?”

  Vivid spared him a heated glance. “You look like a fool who’s wasting his time looking at me when he should be sizing up his enemies.”

  “I don’t know if I would call looking at you a waste of time.”

  The creatures were crowding around them, pushing up against each other, their fleshy white hands reaching with gnarled fingernails. They were snapping their mouths with stained, jagged teeth, so close that their ravenous wails pounded against Scorch’s eardrums. He could see their faces clearly, and where eyes should have been, there was only lumpy flesh.