by Claire Luana
Four of the burners fell into position in a row behind Hiro while the last sunburner went outside to great their “guests.” The wait stretched long and wide, but finally, when Rika thought the anticipation would kill her, she heard murmured voices outside.
A man was the first to duck under the tent flap. He looked unlike any of her people. Dark hair swept over his brow, and he had olive skin, as well as thick, arching eyebrows framing eyes that glowed an eerie green. Like the lights over the sea. He was handsome—strikingly so—as tall and broad as her father. Black leather armor stretched over lithe muscle that moved with Ryu’s cat-like grace. The man surveyed each individual standing in the tent, and when his eyes swept over her, a chill crawled up her spine. Despite the pleasant packaging, this man frightened her.
Then he stepped aside to allow the next member of his party to enter the tent. At this sight, Rika forgot all about the man. This…this was the threat. This was the great shadow, the sweeping darkness. This was, in a word—evil.
It stood two heads taller than her father and was clad in black chitinous armor, almost like scales. Its claw-like fingers curled into fists on the end of unnaturally long arms, and the arms, she realized in horror, numbered four. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t human. It wore a black helmet that covered its head, but where its face should be…was only darkness. Darkness and two orbs glowing sickly green. In one of its hands it held a wooden staff covered in an intricate pattern of vines and leaves.
Hiro backed up a step and tightened his hand on his sword hilt. The creature stepped aside, and another entered the tent, looking identical to its fellow. Except this one, she noticed, was missing two claws on one of its hands. She wasn’t sure why she noticed it, but the sight returned some of her failing courage. If it could lose fingers, it could be killed.
Hiro squared his shoulders and faced the horrors before him. “Welcome to the land of Kita-Miina,” he said formally. “I am King Hiro, one of the rulers of this land. I am pleased to welcome you to our shores. I look forward to talking with you about how our two great races can coexist in peace. We believe we have much to learn about each other, and much to learn from each other.”
Rika was amazed that her father’s voice was clear and strong, without a hint of fear. Suddenly, the bedtime stories of her parents fighting demons and winning came into vivid color. Pride swelled within her.
The creature with three fingers turned to the man who had entered with them. Rika had forgotten about him, but he stepped forward. He began to speak, his eyes flashing with that same eerie green. He had a pleasant voice, deep and melodic, but the words he spoke were strange and garbled. Nonsense. Hiro looked at Master Tato, who shrugged helplessly. Whatever this language was, it wasn’t one the librarian had encountered. Clearly, the creatures couldn’t understand the dialect Hiro spoke.
Hiro paused for a moment, but then stepped forward slowly, taking his hand off his sword. He extended his hand to the creature in a gesture of friendship. The creature extended one of its own arms, wrapping its claws delicately around Hiro’s hand. Hiro gently pumped his hand up and down, and Rika blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A handshake. It was a good start.
The creature tightened his grip, causing Hiro to grunt in surprise. Ryu, who had been sitting at her side, was on his feet in a flash, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t approach, no doubt not wanting to make a threatening movement. The creature pulled Hiro towards him, bending its face down towards Hiro’s own. Her father stepped forward—once, twice. What was the creature doing?
Rika looked to the black-clad man, who stood stiff as a board, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were fixed on the ground, away from the creature and Hiro. The muscles in his strong jaw were working, as if he were grinding his teeth. As if he were bracing himself for what was about to come.
Horror swelled in Rika’s heart and she cried out, though she had promised she wouldn’t. “Father! Get back!”
But it was too late. The creature’s arms shot out and wrapped around Hiro like four lassos. The creature hovered over Hiro—a monstrous shadow bending him backwards like a bow. A scream ripped from Hiro’s throat, a sound of such agony that it was almost inhuman.
Those in the tent exploded into action. Ryu leapt for the other creature while one of the moonburners cast out at the man with a fireball. The other moonburner targeted the creature holding Hiro, sending blinding bolts of lightning into its black-clad body.
Rika stood frozen to the spot, her hands clamped uselessly before her open mouth. She couldn’t look away from her father, from the sight of the creature wrapped around him in an embrace so close it was almost…intimate. Hot tears splashed down her face as Hiro’s face began to blur, as if the creature was…pulling Hiro into the dark chasm where its face should be. No. Where its mouth should be. Hiro continued to scream as the other creature batted Ryu away like a kitten, sending him tumbling into the side of the tent. The man had dispatched one of the moonburners, his swords piercing her through. Rika saw these things in the periphery while she watched in numb horror as the creature sucked the life from her father. Where were her powers? What could she do?
Ryu let out a grating snarl as he tried to rise to his feet but stumbled, landing on the carpet with a shuddering crash. What was happening to him? Why couldn’t he stand?
“Father,” Koji whispered. His voice was small and high, like it had been when he’d been a boy. Rika wrenched her gaze back to the creature, but what it held in its arms was no longer her father. It was a gray husk in sunburner red. Empty.
The creature straightened, letting the clothing fall from its outstretched claws. The form clunked to the floor, borne by the weight of Hiro’s sword and crown. But there was nothing between the velvet and linen. Nothing but dust. Rika looked at Ryu through a blur of tears, just in time to catch his eyes as he withered away, his once-proud golden body dissolving into ash.
Rika’s knees collapsed beneath her, and she fell to the ground, numb and disbelieving. They were gone. Her father was gone.
SILENCE BLANKETED THE tent, broken only by the sound of ragged breathing. In and out. In and out.
As if watching from afar, Rika realized the sound was coming from her. The last moonburner had ceased her assault on the creature, watching in mute horror as her king was turned to ash. But she came back to herself—launching herself at the creature with a wave of fire before her. The monster stood unflinchingly as the flames enveloped it. When they died away, it advanced—totally unharmed—upon the moonburner. The fire hadn’t slowed it a step. It reached out black-armored arms and grabbed the moonburner’s navy uniform, pulling her into the same strange embrace it had leveled at her father. The moonburner screamed, flailing in its iron grip, her silver hair whipping about her face. “What are you?” she managed, but the creature ignored the question, intent upon its prize. A sob escaped Rika’s lips as the moonburner’s face began to blur.
The sunburner soldiers attacked the other creature with sword and spear, but it grabbed the spear-wielding man, pulling him close. It lowered its shadowy helm to the burner’s golden head while the other man hacked uselessly at it with his sword, howling in anger.
Rika’s wide eyes flew back to the other creature, the one that had taken her father. The moonburner, already fading to ash, turned a face cracked with graying skin and mouthed a single word at Rika. “Run!”
The creature hissed in frustration, a high-pitched clicking scream that grated against her eardrums. Rika met Koji’s terrified eyes and began to crawl towards the corner of the tent. If they could wriggle under, they could take Enzo and ride for Yoshai…warn her mother…
Rika screamed as a hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her back towards the center of the room. She turned to find the man in black leather, his green eyes glowing like emerald coals. She fought against him, landing a vicious blow with her boot to his jaw. It hardly fazed him. With one swift motion, he tossed her by her ankle into
the center of the tent. She tumbled to a stop in the pile of her father’s clothes, gagging as her hands scrambled in the powdery ash that was all that was left of her father. Her flailing fingers brushed against her father’s sword hilt, and she grabbed it, clinging to it like a lifeline.
A navy-blue uniform collapsed onto the carpet next to Rika with a shower of ash. The creature—the soul-eater—had finished off the moonburner. Rika shied away, crawling back, dragging the sword with her. She bumped against a pair of boots and looked up to see the dark-haired man holding a knife to her brother’s throat, his other hand twisted painfully in Koji’s golden hair. Enzo was backed into the corner of the room, rearing and tossing his head, his horn swinging in dangerous arcs. But the man seemed to understand that Enzo wouldn’t do anything to risk Koji, and so he had subdued the seishen more effectively than the bars of a cage.
The last sunburner was being sucked dry by the other soul-eater now, and Master Tato, the last member of her father’s party, was huddled in a ball against the far wall, his knees drawn up to his chest.
When the sunburner’s empty armor clanked to the carpet, the soul-eaters turned as one. First they looked at her, then at Koji, then at Master Tato. She felt like a pig at the slaughterhouse, having her fate decided for her.
The soul-eater who had taken her father turned to Master Tato, and he cowered from it, scuttling as far as he could against the wall of the tent. “Take them,” he said, pointing a shaking finger at her.
Rika narrowed her eyes, a surge of anger cutting through her terror. He was a sunburner, sworn to protect the royal family.
“I’m a historian,” he said. “Scholar. Librarian. I have much knowledge about this world. About its people. Their defenses, their resources. I could help you.”
Rika’s jaw dropped. Not only was he willing to sell her and Koji out, but to save his own skin, he would sell out their whole civilization?
“Master Tato,” she hissed, the fire of her fury burning away the fog of fear and disbelief. “Don’t do this.”
He ignored her, keeping his focus on the soul-eater’s black form.
The soul-eater turned to its brethren and spoke in that hissing, clicking language it had used before. She wanted to clap her hands over her ears, but she held them at her sides, one hand tight around the sword hilt. It seemed the creatures reached a decision, because the one with all its fingers advanced on Master Tato and buried its claws in his tunic, hauling him to his feet. Master Tato whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. But the soul-eater didn’t take him in its embrace as it had the other burners. Instead, it took his head between two hands and breathed out a green mist that glowed like swamp gas. Master Tato squirmed but couldn’t help but breathe it in. As soon as he took a breath, his movements stilled and he went stiff. Then his eyes flared the same green as the other man’s, and the creature dropped him to the ground, where he stumbled but caught himself, swaying on his feet. Master Tato’s face was strangely blank. And those eyes.
As soon as Tato’s feet hit the ground, the soul-eaters turned on her and Koji, the last two alive and free in the tent. Enzo reared with a fearsome whinny, his golden hooves flashing through the air, his teeth clacking viciously. The man in black leather twisted his knife more tightly against Koji’s throat and Koji cried out in pain. A trickle of blood ran down towards his collarbone.
The soul-eaters must have seen the threat that Enzo posed, because the one missing fingers moved towards her brother, its claws outstretched.
“No!” Rika cried, rushing to stand before her brother. She didn’t know what had come over her—what had finally moved her feet. Whether it was bravery, a desire to protect her brother, or cowardice, not wanting to watch him die too. But either way, she couldn’t do nothing anymore. “Take me,” she said. “He is heir to the throne. If he dies, my mother and our armies will hunt you down until every last one of you is dust on the Earth.”
“She lies,” Master Tato said, his voice monotone. “She is the heir.”
The soul-eater took a step forward, its armor clanking. It took all of Rika’s restraint to stand her ground. The thing was immense—she hardly came up to its chest. “I care not for heirs or bargains or peace. This land is ours. We will take what we want from it. Your armies are flies to be brushed aside.” Its breath smelled sour, like sulfur from a hot spring. Bile rose in her mouth and she swallowed thickly.
“You’re wrong,” she said. Her voice was small. It was all she had, this small bit of defiance. She wanted to scream, to beg, to collapse over her father’s clothes, weeping. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let this beast have the satisfaction. And then she realized it wasn’t all she had. She still held her father’s sword limp in her hand, its heavy tip trailing behind her on the carpet. That’s how she would go out. So she summoned her training—the years on the sparring ground with Armsmistress Emi—and swung the sword with all her might, right at the crease in the creature’s armor where helmet shadowed its shoulder.
The sword made contact with the creature’s outstretched hand with a clang. It had caught it in the air, its movement impossibly fast. It wrenched the sword from her grip and flung it across the room. Master Tato had to scramble out of the way to avoid being clubbed by it.
The creature’s claws shot out and wrapped around her throat, jerking her into the air and against its hard armor, its other arms wrapping around her, its claws digging into soft flesh. Breath left her as her body smashed into its breastplate. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
It let out a strange hissing noise that Rika realized was laughter, but she was too wrapped in fear and pain to feel the outrage she should. It leaned over her, bowing its body over hers how it had her father’s, and its piercing green eyes plunged into her soul. She felt it swimming through her thoughts, her memories, gathering them to it, ripping them from their rightful home towards the unnatural vortex of its magic. She railed against it, struggling to hold on, to fight it, to deny it the sustenance it so desperately craved. And as she grabbed for a handhold, a grip, anything to keep her mind and her soul in her body, her mental scrambling brushed against something. Something warm and bright and good and strong. Something strange, but familiar at the same time. She gripped it desperately, not knowing what it was—a piece of herself, or this world perhaps. But it held fast, held firm, and she pulled more of herself back into herself. She heaved herself away from the soul-eater, its power sucking at her like quicksand. But blessedly, she broke free of its hold and found herself fully back in herself—her mind, her body, her soul where it should be. Firmly, securely inside her body. And there was something new. When she had broken free of the soul-eater’s grip, her handhold had loosened as well. It was tumbling towards her as if a rope had come untied.
The soul-eater was keening its strange sound, its claws still firmly affixed in her body, but its eyes were glowing like fiery green embers. She could feel anger radiating off it, through the strange unearthly connection between them, and she could feel power growing, surging towards her, energy enough to make her hair stand on end.
The soul-eater seemed to feel it too, because it looked up from her with confusion, its grip loosening. Rika pulled her feet up and kicked against its armor, twisting herself out of its grip, its claws tearing from her skin in furrows of pain. The walls of the tent flapped in an unnatural breeze and for a moment, all grew still.
A jet of pure white light tore through the ceiling of the tent and exploded into the soul-eater, enveloping it in a brightness so sharp it burned through Rika’s closed eyelids. Stunned by the ringing in her ears and the blinding of the flash, it took Rika a moment to realize that the soul-eater who had seized her was on the ground, shimmering ivory flames licking across its broken body. It was dead. She had killed it. Something was rising above the smoking corpse, a shimmering mist that undulated and rose towards the freedom of the hole in the tent and the starry sky beyond. The mist looked like…people. With a start, Rika realized what they were. Hundreds of souls
, floating, spinning, faces with strange features cast in relief and abandon.
The black-haired man had dropped his knife from Koji’s throat, overcome with shock at the sight of his dead master. Enzo wasted no time and barreled at the man, his horn lowered like a spear. The man leaped to the side just in time, rolling towards Master Tato. The lone remaining soul-eater came for Rika, hissing and clicking, its talons outstretched. She scrambled away, stealing precious seconds while her mind tried to work out what had just happened. And how to recreate it. What had she done? How had she done it?
Koji pulled himself onto Enzo’s back. “Come on, Rika!” he cried, holding out a hand to her. As Rika rose to make a run for him, a sharp blow landed on the back of her head. She crumpled forward, falling to the ground with a crash. She rolled over, gasping, to find a blurry Master Tato standing above her, a war-hammer held high. He had clubbed her. Rika couldn’t believe it. The librarian had hit her. She tried to scramble away, but her body was sluggish to respond, her thoughts no better. The remaining soul-eater clamped his claws around her, hoisting her into its arms.
Enzo pawed the ground near the door of the tent, rearing in fury. “Rika!” Koji yelled again. Rika tried to pull at the thread of power she had felt a moment before, but whatever it was now slipped from her grasp.
“Go,” she croaked to Koji, motioning with her hand. “Run! Tell Mother…what happened…one of us…warn them…”
Koji’s face was streaked with tears, and he bit his lip as Enzo danced beneath him, clearly torn over abandoning his sister.