by Ben Wolf
Lumen surveyed the army behind Lilly and the others with those burning white eyes of his, and he gave a slow nod. “With the combined strength of all four of Kanarah’s peoples, we are all but assured victory. All that remains now is to seize the freedom that is rightfully ours.”
Lilly caught herself nodding along. How could she not? After all that had happened, she had to believe Lumen would make this world a better place than it had been before. Better than the one that had seen her taken captive as a slave, her parents murdered, her realm nearly destroyed, her people nearly obliterated.
If Lumen could truly usher in the liberty and peace he claimed, maybe no one else would ever have to suffer the sort of trauma that Lilly had endured.
“Liar!”
The shout came from behind Lilly, somewhere amid the army behind her. She and the others turned back to look as the voice shouted the word a second time.
“Liar!”
Before them, Lumen’s arms slowly lowered, and his white-hot gaze landed on the person shouting the accusation: Captain Anigo.
The Saurians guarding him quickly moved to muffle his cries, but Lumen extended his hand forward and spoke.
“Do not silence him,” he commanded, and the Saurians halted their efforts to quiet Captain Anigo. “Bring him forward.”
A moment later, Captain Anigo stood before Lumen, still flanked by two Saurians and two Werewolves, as if Lumen somehow needed them around to manage their prisoner.
“I will not hold it against you, but do you truly refuse to bow before the savior of your people?” Lumen asked.
Captain Anigo scowled at him. “You’re no savior of mine. I serve the King.”
“You serve the King,” Lumen repeated. “The same King who let your fellow soldiers perish only yesterday in a pointless battle against the army which now stands behind you? Why would you serve such a man?”
“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.” Captain Anigo spat on the ground near Lumen’s feet, but the action didn’t faze Lumen at all. “He is the one true descendant of the Overlord, and Kanarah is his to rule by divine right.”
“Your King oppresses his people and sacrifices them for his own gain, yet this ‘divine right’ you speak of somehow absolves him of his sins?” Lumen challenged. “A ‘divine right’ which is a blatant falsehood that has been perpetuated by the King for centuries?”
“Say whatever you want.” Captain Anigo sneered at Lumen. “I will not yield to you. I will remain faithful to the oath I swore to my King until my last breath.”
Lumen’s stare didn’t waver. “I wonder if, perhaps, your fellow soldiers will feel the same way?”
With another order, the remaining soldiers in captivity from the battle at Kanarah City came forward, escorted by Wolves, Windgales, and Saurians from within the army. The formed a loose cluster to Captain Anigo’s left, and Lumen regarded them in silence for a long moment just as they regarded him.
Finally, he said, “Soldiers of the King, the time has come for you to choose. Either you will continue to serve a King who does not care for your wellbeing, who eagerly sacrificed you knowing full well that the forces stationed at Kanarah City would fail in the face of such overwhelming odds, who betrayed you unto death itself…
“…or you are welcome to join me in usurping the evil King and removing him from this world once and for all,” Lumen continued. “And in doing so, you will become my co-heirs to the throne, just as every living soul in Kanarah will be free to rule themselves. You may choose the path that leads to certain death, or you may choose the path of light. Which will it be?”
The soldiers glanced among each other, and several looked to Captain Anigo as if for guidance, but he met them only with a stern expression and a perpetually shaking head.
“Perhaps a demonstration of my power is in order?” Lumen suggested. “Is there one who would volunteer?”
None of the King’s soldiers dared to move, and Lilly couldn’t blame them. They doubtless understood that Lumen’s power far surpassed their own, and they hadn’t even seen what he’d done to the soldiers accompanying Matthios into battle.
When still no one replied, Lumen pointed toward one of the soldiers at random. Glowing white light outlined the man, and his chains and shackles fell away as the light lifted him up from the crowd, into the air, and toward Lumen.
“You will do nicely,” he said.
The soldier squirmed and struggled against Lumen’s power to no avail, despite being freed from his bonds. The sight sent a shudder through Lilly’s chest, but she didn’t show any emotion.
“No! Please!” the soldier pleaded. “I’ll join you! I’ll swear fealty right now—just—please don’t—”
“Enough!” Captain Anigo shouted. He somehow twisted free of his Saurian captors and stormed toward Lumen with his hands still shackled. The Werewolves caught up to him in a flash of darkness and clamped onto his arms, but he’d already separated himself enough from everyone else to stand out—to stand alone before the General of Light.
Lilly waited and watched.
Captain Anigo’s heart roared in his chest, oversaturated with all manner of negative emotions. One of his soldiers had already defected to Lumen’s army just to spare his own life. Did the man have no honor? No self-respect?
Worse than that, though, was the brilliant and terrifying being who stood before him, a beacon of blazing white daylight burning even brighter than the afternoon sun.
Lumen’s eyes raged like two diamonds ignited with the purest white flame. His golden crown gleamed almost as if it were translucent, and a white mask of metal covered the bottom half of his face, matching the rest of his pristine armor.
Light emanated from every inch of his body. He had no shadow, no darkness within him or even near him whatsoever. His form was the picture of perfection—broad and powerful, tall, commanding. Faultless. Flawless. Ideal in every way.
The longer Captain Anigo stared, the more he questioned his resolve. He’d sworn an oath—he’d sworn his very life to the King’s service, but here before him stood a being so immaculate that it called everything Captain Anigo had ever believed into question.
Why was he so intent on serving the King? Why shouldn’t he join this righteous warrior? Why should he die for a lost cause? Why shouldn’t he instead fight for someone worthy of his prowess and capabilities as a soldier? As a leader?
With power like Lumen’s, who could ever hope to stand against him?
When Captain Anigo blinked, a negative version of Lumen’s being imprinted on the inside of his eyelids, scarring his vision as if he’d glanced at the sun or stared too long into a campfire at night. The light Lumen emitted seemed to flow everywhere Captain Anigo could see, whether his eyes were closed or not.
It even seemed to pierce through him. It burrowed deep inside of his body, filtering into his veins and arteries, into his blood and bones, saturating his flesh and organs, all the while heading for his heart and his mind.
No, he realized—the light was already in his mind. It was shifting his thoughts. Twisting and turning his allegiances. Manipulating and manhandling his memories. Threatening to take from him everything he’d ever held dear in this life. Hunting down, capturing, and slaughtering his purpose.
The light knocked on the door of his heart, but Captain Anigo refused to open it.
His lips unlocked—he hadn’t realized they’d been sealed shut in the first place—and he spoke for the first time in what seemed like ages.
“I reject your offer, traitor.” He spat the insult as if he’d thrown his lance clear into Lumen’s heart. “I serve the one true King of Kanarah, and I will not be swayed by your sorcerous ways. Whether I live or die, the King will put a swift end to your rebellion, and he will destroy you once and for all. I swear it by the Overlord himself.”
Lumen shook his head, and his light seemed to dim ever so slightly. “A wicked and corrupt generation rejects the truth, even when I have given them a sign. I had hoped you
, in particular, would join our cause, honorable Captain Anigo, but your misplaced loyalty to the King has damaged your soul beyond repair.”
Captain Anigo’s heart continued to thrum in his chest, and his breathing quickened. His death was imminent, and he knew it.
“As such, you will serve as an example to all who would stand against me,” Lumen continued. “For anyone who is not for me is against me, and I cannot tolerate the scourge of oppression in any form if we are to remake Kanarah in the image of peace.
“But do not fear, Captain Anigo, for you shall serve as a beacon on a hill, as a light shining in the darkness for all who will follow after you.” Lumen’s voice took on a darker tone. “And then everyone will finally know the truth.”
Lumen’s hand rose, and the Werewolves released their grasp on Captain Anigo’s arms.
An unseen force seized Captain Anigo from the inside of his chest and began to squeeze.
He gasped, but the pressure stole his breath.
He looked down and saw white light glowing through his silver armor as if his breastplate, undershirt, and skin were made of glass. The trampled grain beneath his feet dropped away, and he found himself hovering in the air, unable to breathe and barely even able to think.
Then a voice entered his mind, speaking in impressions rather than words.
It told him that even though his heart could not be won…
…it could still be crushed.
Captain Anigo’s eyes widened as the pressure in his chest sharpened.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Stop!” Calum found himself shouting as he hurried forward. “Wait!”
To his surprise, Lumen actually did stop his attack—or whatever it was.
With a furrowed brow, Lumen fixed his blazing white eyes on Calum. The sight sent a shock of dread rippling through Calum’s body, but he’d grown so accustomed to seeing Lumen in his dreams that he didn’t let it alter his course or his mindset.
He positioned himself between Lumen and Captain Anigo, who still hung in the air by an unseen power, even though the light in his chest had faded to nothing. As far as Calum could tell, Captain Anigo was still alive.
“What are you doing?” Lumen asked.
Calum wondered that himself. His mind stuttered, but words refused to tumble out of his mouth. He swallowed the lump in his throat, recalibrated his thoughts, and spoke.
“I don’t think you should kill him,” Calum said.
Silence hung in the air around him. It permeated the entirety of both armies and their commanders. The only sound Calum could hear was the faint hiss of wind caressing the ocean of grain around them.
It lasted forever and ended abruptly as Lumen asked, “Why?”
Calum’s breath caught in his throat. The only response he could muster was, “He can’t hurt us anymore. He doesn’t need to die.”
“He stands with the King. He represents everything we are fighting to change,” Lumen countered. “I gave him a chance, and he declined my offer to—”
“But he hasn’t seen a world like the one you’re going to make out of Kanarah.” Calum realized he’d just interrupted arguably the most powerful being in the world, but he continued anyway. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, and demonstrating your power alone won’t be enough to convince everyone. I know. I tried.”
The more Calum thought about it, the more he realized that the power Lumen had gifted him had actually convinced no one. He couldn’t point to a single person in Kanarah who’d joined because they’d seen Lumen’s light glowing in his hand.
Sure, the light had inspired the army once they’d all banded together, but Lilly, Riley, and Magnus had done the heavy lifting when it came to actually rallying their people to join the cause. With only the light alone, Calum still would’ve been trying to raise an army, probably fruitlessly, in Western Kanarah.
It struck Calum as odd that it hadn’t worked, but when he considered that the blessing he’d received from Lumen amounted to almost nothing compared to the General of Light’s true power, it made sense. Seeing Lumen wield the entirety of his might dwarfed the little bit of light glowing from Calum’s hand.
“Anyone who refuses to believe in our cause must be cast into the outer darkness,” Lumen asserted. “But even in their denial of my power, they can still serve our cause. They can draw others to us as shining beacons of hope in the darkness, lighting the way for any who wish to be free of the King’s oppression.”
Calum started to say, “He doesn’t need to—”
“Allow me to demonstrate.” It was Lumen’s turn to interrupt. He quickly added, “I will not harm him in any way. Rather, I will ask a question of his fellow soldiers. They have seen enough at this point to choose for themselves which path they will follow.”
Lumen faced the soldiers, who continued to stare at him with bewilderment and fear in their wide eyes.
“Which path do you choose?” Lumen asked them. “Do you choose light and life, or will you suffer darkness and death? Step forward and swear your oaths to me, and in doing so, you will attain true freedom for the rest of your lives.”
Without hesitation, every single one of the soldiers scrambled forward, their chains clinking as they moved. In quick succession, they each dropped to their knees and swore oaths to Lumen, none of which Calum could make out due to their quiet voices.
He got the impression that they were almost… ashamed to be doing it, but they’d come over eagerly enough, so he disregarded the notion as a foolish wandering of his mind.
By the time they finished, Lumen had added a few dozen more soldiers to his ranks, and he’d proven his point as promised: without harming Captain Anigo.
The soldiers’ shackles and chains fell off in unison, and light from Lumen shined from each of their chests, though not as brightly as it had from Captain Anigo’s. They marveled at the sight of their liberated limbs and at the lights emanating from inside of them, and then they exchanged huge smiles and laughter as they rushed past Lumen to join the rest of his army.
When Calum looked back, Captain Anigo was just shaking his head and staring at the ground with a look of disgust etched into his face.
“Better to have died,” he muttered. “Better to have died.”
“Now do you see, my child?” Lumen asked Calum.
Calum had seen it, alright, but he still didn’t want Captain Anigo to die—or whatever else Lumen was going to do to him.
He faced Lumen once again. “Keeping him alive and unharmed costs us virtually nothing. I’m asking you, as a personal favor to me, to let Captain Anigo live.”
As before, silence enveloped both sides of the army. Calum could feel the heaviness of his friends’ gazes weighing on his back, almost as potent as the energy emitting from Lumen’s eyes.
None of it changed his resolve.
With a slight tilt of his head, Lumen spoke once more. “If, by the end of our campaign, Captain Anigo still fails to see the wonders we will bring about in this world, then he will perish the same as the rest of our foes. Until then, I will relent. He will not be harmed. You have my word.”
Relief flooded Calum’s chest, though he didn’t totally know why. Captain Anigo had, almost without exception, only tried to capture or kill Calum and his friends. The one time they’d cooperated was to survive against the Gronyxes under Kanarah City, and even then, they’d almost turned on each other right afterward.
So why had Calum intervened at all?
The truth was, he didn’t know. He supposed it was like when he’d stopped Magnus from killing Riley back at their camp in the mountains. He hadn’t deserved to die, and Calum couldn’t definitively say that Captain Anigo deserved it, either.
Above all else, now, with Lumen set free and two massive armies unified under his command, Calum had to believe that even someone as staunch in his dedication to the King would see the truth for what it was. And if there was hope for Captain Anigo, there was hope for everyone in Kanarah to be set free.
“Better to have died,” Captain Anigo repeated. He met Calum’s eyes, frowning. “You’ll see. When the King displays his full power, you’ll see.”
Something about Captain Anigo’s tone—perhaps it was his certainty—unnerved Calum, but before he could respond, Lumen ordered the Werewolves to take Captain Anigo away.
“Come,” Lumen opened his arms wide, beckoning Calum and the others forward. “We have food aplenty and much to discuss. Tomorrow, we march for Solace to take back Kanarah for her people.”
Though Axel had to admit the feast that night was the stuff of legends, straight out of the songs and musings of old men with bushy beards and too much time on their hands, he couldn’t help but be furious that Lumen still hadn’t bestowed any power on him yet.
In fairness, Lumen hadn’t granted any new abilities to Calum or the others, either, but it still bothered Axel that he hadn’t gotten so much as a congratulatory handshake from the General of Light yet, much less the power he’d promised them.
Together with Lumen, Axel and the others had taken seats of honor inside a sprawling patchwork tent haphazardly sown together by blind men, from the looks of it. Rough-hewn logs, sawn in half lengthwise and placed atop hollowed out trunks of trees, formed impromptu banquet tables. Similar logs had been thatched together outside to form a robust wooden fence around the camp.
Axel folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Unlike everything else in the tent, at least it was a real chair. Someone must’ve brought it with them from Kanarah City, or wherever they’d come from, when they’d joined Lumen’s army.
But for all the lack of opulence inside the tent, the light produced by Lumen inside made up for it.
Crystalline streaks of pure light, some long like icicles and others the size of gemstones, glittered and shimmered overhead. They floated independently of each other, unhindered by the laws of nature, casting beautiful and tranquil light into the space.