Prayer: Champion of Light

by C. J. Krüger

  “I suppose that makes sense,” I say dubiously. “But it still seems…improper. I wouldn’t want my future wife to be seen by another man or myself to be seen by a woman other than my wife.”

  “That’s very sweet,” Eldatha says, her voice soft and lacking its usual sarcasm. “Though, I’ve watched humans and what you call marriage is hardly worth calling Holy.”

  “That’s true.” I turn away and study the bare wall of my room. The thought upsets me, and I think of my own parents’ wedding. My mother was the daughter of a wealthy duke and my grandfather arranged the marriage to gain access to her family’s coffers. There was no love. They only met on their wedding day. “But for myself… I don’t want anything less than what you described, and I have faith that I will find my soulmate, just as They did.”

  She looks at me, her eyes hooded and dreamy. Then her face changes and she stands up abruptly. “You need to go to the caves,” she says, backing away from me. “If you are any later than you already are, he might kill you.”

  My lips purse tightly. “There is something you want to say,” I tell her, standing up and stepping close to her. “I can see it in your eyes. Your incredible green eyes.”

  “There is nothing, Jonathan,” she says firmly. “Now go before you get yourself in more trouble.”

  Could she be my soulmate? I ask myself, and try to dismiss the thought. Yet the harder I convince myself she couldn’t be, the more right it feels. “You’ve never hid what was on your mind before, Eldatha,” I say, my voice low. “Why are you hiding something now?”

  “Because,” she says, her voice trembling. “Because that is my right.”

  I am about to reach out, but she turns and walks away briskly. I’m left alone in the room, my heart pounding in my chest. Stop it, I tell myself and search my room for a shirt. The cotton tunic slips over my head and the cloth against my skin somehow makes me feel safe, as if I am not emotionally bared to the world.

  With a heavy sigh I put boots on and leave the room and walk towards a lift. The Elves, and their genius advancements through magic, have discovered a way to make stairs obsolete. Their architecture, rather than being built from stone and brick, makes use of the very trees themselves. They use magic to grow the trees into whatever shape they wish, and make their homes among nature. To quickly get in and out of their tall homes, they created a series of lifts, strong enough to bear the weight of several grown adults.

  The trip down to the surface is surprisingly short, but the entire time, my mind is focused on the curve of Eldatha’s lips and the gentle arch of her brow. I imagine myself kissing those lips and holding her body close to mine, and telling her that she is the only one in all the universe for me. Get a grip, Jonathan, I scold myself. She is an Elf, beautiful and immortal—of course I have an innocent attraction. What sane man wouldn’t? But that does not mean she is my soulmate. It’s impossible.

  Or is it?

  My feet hit the ground as I step out of the lift and I shake the thoughts from my mind. Right now, I have something else to think about: learning magic and killing my father. Neither of those things have anything to do with romance. Even though Diarmuid said my son must be conceived on the day of the solar eclipse, that is six months from now, and the thought is too troubling to dwell on. I can’t stress; I must focus.

  I start to run. My feet pound against the earth, and I feel the pressure in my knees with every step. It’s a comforting feeling and it stops me from thinking too much about the future. The goal in front of me is the only goal I can afford to spend time on.

  Magic does not come easily to me and Diarmuid is unsure why. According to him, Arkana is in everyone, yet I have been unable to tap into even the most basic of spells. Perhaps something is wrong with me? Or perhaps it’s simply impossible for humans. I don’t know, and the thought frightens me.

  Focus.

  My pace increases and I feel it in my lungs and in my heart. I don’t know how long I have been running or how far, but the tree buildings are becoming more and more scarce. I’m entering the untamed wilds of the Arterian Forest, and there are no clear paths toward the caves. A fallen branch is in my way that I must vault over, and several roots threaten to make me fall. I stay the course and increase my pace again, even though my lungs are begging me to slow. I gasp with each fall of my feet and my nostrils and throat fill with fluid that makes it a struggle to breath.

  Miles into the forest, I finally have to stop and rest. I feel as if my legs will give out from under me, but I manage to force myself to walk and catch my breath. It’s not too far a walk from where I am, and I am eager to start my lesson. Diarmuid has always said that the more physically exhausted I am, the easier it should be to start channeling magic. You rely too much on your normal senses. When those are spent, you will understand that something deeper sleeps within you.

  By the time I reach the cave, my breathing has returned to normal, and my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to rip itself from my chest. My knees and feet serve as reminders of my sprint through the forest, and I strip off my shoes. I sigh in contentment as my soles touch the cool stone floor of the cave. It is tempting to linger here just to soothe my aching feet, but the thought of angering Diarmuid more than I surely have already spurs me deeper into the cave.

  I’ve grown used to the darkness of this cave over the last several months. The ancient elf claims that it helps focus the mind but even after becoming accustomed to the black, I find my mind constantly wandering and contemplating the strangest of thoughts. Just yesterday, I wondered why Men and Elves share the same number of fingers, as if it was some question of great importance.

  “About time.” Diarmaid’s voice is rough, but lacks the expected rage. “Sit.”

  Quickly I do as I am told and take my seat upon the cold stone. “I apologize, Diarmuid,” I say sincerely. “I let myself wallow in sleep too much this morning. It won’t happen again.”

  “Yes, it will,” the elf says. “And maybe when you finally get angry instead of sad, we might make some progress.”

  I wince and turn away. Even though I can’t see the elf, I can still feel his judgmental gaze on me. “I am angry,” I tell him, my voice low but lacking conviction.

  “Not nearly enough,” he replies and I feel him slam his energy into me.

  I am pushed onto my back and even though I struggle to move, not a single muscle will budge. “Release me!” I say firmly. “What are you doing, Diarmuid?”

  “Teaching you a valuable lesson, little prince,” the elf says, nearly spitting. “You hold the lives of everyone in your hands and you are spending time feeling sorry for yourself? This is how helpless you really are. Even a fraction of my power prevents you from doing anything expect blink and run your mouth.”

  “I know that!” I shout, trying to lift myself from the ground. “How does rubbing it in my face help? Tell me that. I am trying, Diarmuid.”

  The elf scoffs. “You said you would lay your life down for your future family. That you loved them. Was I foolish to believe you?”

  I try to shake my head, but his hold on me is too strong. “No,” I croak. “No, Diarmuid, you weren’t wrong.”

  “Then get up,” he says, not letting his pressure go. “Get up or die, Jonathan. I will hold you here until you starve to death if necessary. Perhaps self preservation is the only thing that will motivate you properly.”

  Chapter Ten

  The will drains from my body as Diarmuid keeps my body still against the stone floor. He is ancient and powerful beyond compare, and I feel completely helpless. I try to lift my arms but they refuse me. Next I try my fingers, but even they do not obey my commands.

  “You’re never going to be able to move with physical strength alone, Jonathan,” the elf says. “You have to beat me with your mind.”

  An even more impossible task, I think bitterly. At least I can still breathe and I start taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. Remember what Diarmuid has said. Empty my mi
nd and then let it be pulled away. More deep breaths. My chest rises and falls, slow and steady. Up. Down. Calm. I try to move again, but nothing. Don’t think about moving. Calm.

  A face appears before my eyes. It’s a small baby I have never seen before. His eyes are hazel and seem to shimmer in the light. His hair is like mine, black as midnight, but if I look closely at his ears, I notice they are long with a slight tip to them. This is my son, I realize. It’s my little boy. Tears form in my eyes, and my heart feels heavy in my chest. I have to get up. This little, unborn life depends on me and on whether or not I have the courage to stand.

  In my mind, I see a wall in front of me. I turn and look all around, and see the wall is surrounding me on all sides. Break it down, I say to myself and begin to punch the wall with all of my might. My heart pounds in my chest and pain spreads throughout my body but I force myself to keep attacking this mental wall. Stone starts falling around me, and I scream out in agony as energy rips through my body. It’s too much. I can’t do this, I tell myself, trying to pull back. You must, another voice echoes in my mind. My son is depending on me. I must survive and beat this.

  With one final blow, I ram myself against my own barrier and it comes crashing down. Magic is unleashed and it threatens to tear me apart. I scream out in agony and start to thrash on the stone floor.

  “Jonathan!” I hear Diarmuid yell, panic in his voice.

  I scream again and a sharp, metallic taste fills my mouth. My eyes open and bright blue light is filling the cavern. A splash of blood hits my face, and I look down to see little pockets of my skin erupting, as if something is trying to claw its way out of me.

  “You have to fight, Jonathan,” Diarmuid says, his voice firm. “If you don’t, the Arkana will rip you limb from limb.”

  “I’m not going to die here,” I say through my teeth and try to stand. Diarmaid’s energy is still keeping me down, but I find that I can move my body. A new instinct takes over, and I shove at him with my mind. I watch as he stumbles back and I feel his grip on me weaken. Quickly, I rise to my feet and feel several more tiny, painful eruptions all over my body.

  The pain is unbearable, but I refuse to go down. I refuse to give up. “I will save my son,” I say with determination. The magic within me changes somehow, and I feel it pull back from the surface of my skin and gather in my chest. Darkness overcomes the cave again, and I realize it is me creating that light, but how? When the pain recedes and I can finally breathe, I try to search for Diarmuid in the dark.

  Every muscle in my body quivers in pain, and I stumble as I try to move. I catch myself against the stone wall and try to steady myself.

  “Well,” Diarmuid says, his voice a little shaken. “That’s something I haven’t seen before.” He mutters something in his language and a bright yellow sphere appears behind him that softly illuminates the cave.

  “What in the hell did you do to me?” I demand, my voice a raspy mess. “What happened?”

  The ancient elf looks me over and I see relief pass through his eyes. “I didn’t do anything. You did,” he explains cryptically. “But truth be told, I’m not sure what.”

  “So that wall in my head, and feeling like I was being ripped apart, wasn’t part of your plan?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and doing my best to glare at this know-it-all elf. “And this feeling I have in my chest—like a second heart—that’s not you either?”

  Diarmuid shakes his head. “That part is normal—the second heart, I mean. It’s how Arkana resides within you when you are capable of using it. A very small space that is filled with it is in everyone, because Arkana is necessary for life. It’s the spark of life our Gods gave us, but when you are capable of using it, that space expands and it feels like you have a second heart. You’ll get used to it.”

  My pained and troubled mind is having a difficult time following his words, and I catch myself staring blankly at him. “I saw a barrier in my mind—a giant stone wall wrapped around me and there was no way out. I tried to break it down but it hurt so much,” I tell him and slowly lower myself back onto the ground. “Then a voice told me I had to.”

  “What voice?” Diarmuid asks sharply.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but I thought about what you said, and that my son is depending on me to learn. So I broke through and eventually the pain went away.”

  The ancient elf nods and folds his arms over his shoulders. “Maybe your father did something to you,” he suggests. “And that could be why the Arkana almost ripped you apart. But this isn’t the first time you had a strange reaction with magic, is it?”

  “It’s not,” I say, thinking back to my battle with Rolf. “A strange light came through me once, but it was gold and not blue. It cured my friend of the Darkness.”

  “You’re either cursed or blessed, Jonathan,” Diarmuid says gravely. “But whatever was holding you back is gone now. Rest for the day, and tomorrow we can start actually teaching you spells and how to not be so brutish with your Arkana.”

  “Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to throw you like that.”

  He chuckles. “Be proud that you could,” he says, offering me a hand. “You have a lot of raw power. Not just for a human…but one of the strongest Arks I’ve ever seen in a living being. Under my guidance, you’ll be able to defeat your father. I am sure of it now.”

  “Arks?” I ask, taking his hand and using it to stand up.

  I feel his finger point against my chest, just right of my heart. “This is your Ark. Where you keep your magic,” he explains. “But yours is raw and volatile. You’ll need a lot of training.”

  “Anything,” I say fiercely. “Anything at all.”

  “Good,” he says, and helps keep me steady. “Now let’s get you to a bed.”

  I nod and put my arm around his shoulder as we walk out of the cave. The little ball of light he produced follows behind us. Soft moonlight is outside, and I’m a bit shocked to realize that the entire day has been spent. I think back to the face of my son and his little pointed ears. Glancing sidelong at Diarmuid, I decide not to say anything about it, because I am fairly certain my child is going to be his grandson.

  * * *

  I open my eyes and the harsh light of the sun is the first thing to greet me. “Ow,” I groan and roll over on my soft mattress.

  “It’s been two days,” I hear a soft, familiar voice next to me. Eldatha runs her fingers through my hair softly. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

  “Hello,” I say dreamily. “It’s good to see you.” Reaching out, I touch her hand gently. “I thought you wouldn’t be around after our last chat.”

  She scoffs. “I still have to explain how wrong you are about…everything,” she says, her lips pulling up into a smirk. “It gives me a lot of pleasure.”

  A grunt is about the only response I can muster. I don’t have the energy right now to verbally spar, no matter how much joy I get out of it. “I like it when you explain things,” I mumble softly. “You’re nice.”

  She giggles. “I see my healing herbs are affecting you interestingly.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to lift my head.

  “You had so many cuts and bruises on you when you came back,” she says, running her hand over my head. “And the herbs I used to treat the cuts sometimes…have interesting mental side effects.”

  “Oh,” I say, laughing without meaning to. “Is that why I feel so heavy?”

  She nods. “By tomorrow, you’ll feel like yourself again.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “That’s too long. Every moment matters right now.”

  I try to sit up, but her hand pushes me back down. “So does rest,” she urges, pulling a blanket over me. “If you don’t rest, it won’t matter how hard you work.”

  My nose wrinkles and I turn my head to look away. “I just don’t want to fail and think about what I could have done better.”

  “I know,” she says gently and I feel her head rest on my chest.

  I turn to
look and I see her green eyes staring up at me. “What are you doing?” I ask, my face feeling a little hot.

  “Your chest is comfortable,” she says as if that explains everything. “When I heard you almost died in that cave, I prayed over you for hours. I didn’t want you to die.”

  “I would think it wouldn’t matter,” I say, frowning. “I’m just a human. My life is so short compared to yours. If I died today or a hundred years from now, wouldn’t it all feel the same?”

  “No. We perceive time the same way,” she says, her tone sad, and she pulls herself closer. “Do you ever have that feeling, when you remember something from when you were young, and it feels like it was just yesterday? Then you ask, ‘Where did the time go?’”

  I wrap my arms around her, cradling her gently and taking a deep breath. Her hair smells like flowers and honey and my body trembles because she’s so close. “I do,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s an eerie feeling, to be honest.”

  “That’s what it’s like for us,” she tells me as she puts her hand into mine. “We live every moment and day like you do, but then we remember something from a thousand years ago, and wonder where the time went. Sometimes it’s painful because it makes you feel lost and alone in this incredible vastness.”

  “You’re not alone,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You have your father and friends, and I’m sure others that are important to you.”

  Eldatha looks up into my eyes, her expression intense and fearful. “I am very old, Jonathan,” she tells me in a quivering voice. “But you make me feel things I have never felt in all my years. It makes me feel young and alive, and for once I look forward to tomorrow.”