Sword from the Sky

by R. Janvier del Valle

  A FEW MILES OUT FROM PRINCE DRUUK’S MANOR, ACROSS the starlit Plains of the Moon, the distant horizon dissolved into the dark greens of the sloping hills. No living thing abounded, and there existed no black forms of shadow hovering along the plains, tiptoeing up and down the points of the dampened grass. Yet, one thing did breathe in the faraway landscape: a glowing fire, splitting the horizon in two, breaking apart the marriage of the lowly and the high. It glowed in the dark like the surface of a burning anvil, a flaming orange contrasting the blue-black stains of shadowland stretching for miles along the surface of the spectral terrain.

  The fire that burned the starry landscape came from a torch held by a young boy as his father raced down the plains towards the unknown. Even though the wind had conspired against them, it failed to extinguish the light they carried, as if the fire was something eternal, transcendent, only answering to an infinite power.

  Luca and Druuk had successfully traversed miles of terrain, heading towards a destination that only the elder prince had knowledge of. On the back of a thunderous horse, father and son flew with unnatural speed until they came upon the place which they sought, something strange and inconspicuous placed beneath a patch of lonely trees. It was a hole in the ground, and inside were stairs leading down to a darkened abyss.

  Upon their arrival, the two princes dismounted their horse and made their way towards the stairs.

  “Where are we, Father?” Luca said.

  Druuk kept silent, looking in every direction; he had sensed something, a lingering dark presence. After a moment, he continued on. Nothing but long stretches of low-level grass surrounded the hole before them. His garments were being tussled about by a turbulent wind, and the surrounding sky seemed to be watching him, especially by that round cosmic vagrant lighting up the sky, floating in the distance, sporting a round belly, as if full from eating the hopes of many men.

  “What is this place?” Luca inquired once more.

  With a sullen face, the prince turned to his son. “This is your mother’s cave,” he said.

  “My mother? Her cave?”

  “It’s where I first found her. She was keeping shelter here. I came upon the cave during one of my reckless meanderings, intent on discovering new things and exploring new terrain.”

  “You discovered her,” Luca repeated, baffled.

  “Yes, I sure did. She had been hiding here for a while, with no family, with nowhere to go.”

  “You never told me you found Mother in a cave.”

  “I’ve kept lots of things from you, Son,” Druuk said, motioning for him to step into the abyss. “Come, let’s descend. Hand me the torch and grab on to me.” Luca handed his father the torch, which was close to being put out by the bullying wind. He grabbed hold of his father, and they progressed down the stairs leading inside.

  “I haven’t been back to this cave since your mother’s death,” Druuk said with a slight discomfort.

  “Why not?” Luca said, trying not slip among the moist dirt.

  “I had no reason to,” Druuk said, lighting the way with the torch that had grown stronger.

  “And now?”

  “Now, we are running out of time...I am running out of time.”

  Once they reached the last step, they stood at the entrance to the cave for a brief moment while Druuk swayed the torch back and forth to get a good look inside.

  “Help me find a place to put the torch,” Druuk said as he scoured the walls of the cave.

  “Here’s one,” Luca said, finding a spot perfectly placed near the top-left corner of the entrance.

  When Druuk placed the torch on the iron bracket mounted on the wall, the cave magically lit up with life, revealing much of its inner space. The cave itself was made up of a front room and a deep back room thirty feet from the entrance. Lining the walls of the cave were a number of clothes, blankets, used torches and writing tools. In the middle of the cave was a long, wooden table covered in thick patches of dirt, and a certain number of books lay neatly on top. On both the left and right walls of the front room, there was a giant mural, revealing a cosmic display of planets and stars.

  Druuk stood idly, surveying the room. “Someone’s been here,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “This is not how I left the cave many years ago,” Druuk said, walking further in. “This painting wasn’t as immense as it is now.”

  “Who would have come here?” Luca said as he followed, keeping his eyes on the expansive mural.

  “I would love to know the answer to that, Son,” Druuk said, short and dry, as if he knew quite well who the person was.

  “So how long did Mother live here?” Luca said.

  “Only a few months,” Druuk said. “She didn’t tell me exactly where she came from; I didn’t care to ask. I loved her from the minute I found her. But she did say she’d wandered off from her homeland and had gotten lost. She had strayed so far that it would have been impossible to return. When I brought her back to the manor, she stayed in one of our rooms, and then...we fell in love.”

  They came upon the table with the books. “Were those my mother’s?” Luca said, running his finger over them.

  “That’s a good question,” Druuk said, inspecting them. “I didn’t leave these here.” He read the first book. “This one speaks of dark things.” He read some of the second book. “Yet, this one is quite the opposite—very sacred.” Druuk turned to a section near the back of the book. “Luca, there’s a whole section here about the Umbradors, things I’ve never read.”

  “Umbradors?” Luca replied absentmindedly, for his focus was caught by something else, an object just as important as his father’s words.

  “Yes, son, I—” Druuk’s eyes suddenly met the top rear corner of the right wall. There he found what caught Luca’s attention.

  “Now that was something painted by your mother while she kept shelter here,” Druuk said as he moved in closer. The drawing seemed older and more faded than the other parts of the mural. It was a painting of giant humanoid beings made of the brightest light, walking among the trees and forest.

  “Those are them, aren’t they,” Luca said, “the Umbradors?”

  “Yes, Son,” Druuk said. “Those are them, or at least, what your mother thought them to be. She always had this unnatural intelligence, like if she knew more in one second than I could infinitely learn in a lifetime. I remember seeing this painting many years ago, but never really understood it. I was still just learning everything about the world. But now, this painting is quite obvious to me. I should have paid more attention to your mother’s drawings, Luca. I should have paid more attention to her every move. I could have saved her.”

  Druuk’s disposition turned gray and sullen, and his eyes turned to the ground, defeated. Luca grabbed his father’s hand to comfort him.

  “Father, what do you believe about the Umbradors?”

  Druuk sighed. “Well, I have found no reason to believe they are just legend, and neither did your mother. No reason at all.”

  “But you said you’ve never seen one?”

  “Only in the old books, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt them here and there, walking along a cool, vast summer meadow or laying underneath a quiet midnight sky. I feel them near, guarding my soul. That feeling is enough for me to believe.”

  Luca turned to a strange part of the mural. “What is that?” He pointed towards a section of a group of stars in the night’s sky. Some of the stars were shown as falling down from the sky and smashing onto the earth with great force, and some of the stars were shown bigger than others, brighter, with circles of flames engulfing their cosmic bodies.

  When both father and son placed their eyes on the painting, a certain sound came into Luca’s ears, and it traveled into his mind, soft and menacing.

  Luca, dear one, come towards the Beast. Run and hide from the sun, for it has come for you. We’ll protect you. Be one of us!

  “Did you hear that?” Luca said, p
aranoid.

  “I felt something,” Druuk said, concerned for his son. “What was it?”

  “A voice in my head—not coming from me, but penetrating me.”

  “A voice? What did it say?”

  “It told me to hide from the sun,” Luca said with fear in his eyes. “It said it was after me.”

  “No, Luca,” Druuk said, putting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “The sun does not chase you, but patiently waits for you to stay in its rays. Many people in this world do nothing but runaway from the sun, for the sun reveals people’s flaws as shadow, and people loathe to be reminded of their shadows. Dark things will tempt you to turn away from the sun, to marry your shadow, for once you flee the sun, you’ll no longer be aware of your insufficiencies. When the sun dies, there will be nothing but darkness, and therefore no shadow, and thus nothing to reveal your flaws. No, Son. Keep as near to the sun as possible. There, and only there, can you not ever become shadow. If the sun ever leaves you, Luca, it will be a perilous journey back to it.”

  Luca gained a certain confidence from his father’s words, so he spoke to him in a sincere manner. “Now that we’re in this cave and you’ve shown me where you met my mother, will you tell me of her death?”

  Druuk looked to the ground and pondered. He didn’t want to tell him so soon in life about that horrible night and that horrific creature his mother encountered, but he also knew time was running out.

  “The Gremleh,” he said hesitantly.

  “The what?”

  “The “one who is bound to dirt.” The Gremleh, Son. The Perfect Beast. For many years, it’s been known to rule the sunless land. It was this beast that ambushed your mother. It was this beast that ripped her apart.”

  “The beast?” Luca said as he drew his eyes towards the floor with gloom, but then a spark lit up inside him, and his eyes grew angry. “Does this beast still roam the sunless land?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Druuk said.

  “And this sunless land?” Luca said. “Is that not where Lady Malasorta is from?”

  “Luca, I fear the lady’s origins are more malevolent than they appear.”

  “Do you think she’ll come back to claim me?”

  “If she does, we’ll be ready,” Druuk said with a smile to lift his son’s spirits. “Now follow me. There’s a reason I brought you here.”

  Druuk took his son’s hand and led him down a small, winding passageway. The passageway led to a small room lit up by a stream of moonlight coming in from the ceiling. Animated by dust particles and a small mist, the moonlit stream shone right on something resembling a lifelike statue covered by a huge blanket.

  “This is it, Luca,” Druuk said. “Your mother showed me this a few days before her death. She had been working on it for you to have when you were older.”

  “What is it?”

  Druuk took a hold of the blanket and pulled it off with one swift movement, and dust blew up all around them. When the dust cleared, they set their eyes on what the moon’s rays revealed: a golden armor, beautiful and shimmering, as if forged from the sun itself. Luca walked closer to inspect it. His mother had constructed a full armor from head to toe fromsubstance akin to gold, yet not entirely the same.

  “My mother crafted a suit of armor?” Luca said, amazed.

  “Your mother had skills that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend,” Druuk said, studying the armor.

  “Well, it’s too big for me to wear...And my leg; it just wouldn’t work.”

  “It might not fit you now, but one day, it might come to help you when you truly need it. Regardless, she wanted you to have it. She said one day you’d know why. Your mother, Son, was a very militant woman. Only I knew that of her. She was quick with a blade, swift and efficient, yet still as beautiful as a morning star. She crafted this for you. For what? I don’t know the purpose. I know that you’re a Davinian now, but do with this as you will.”

  Luca stared at the golden metal plates in front of him. On the breastplate of the armor was a giant sun with flames reaching out all over the armor, to the limbs, torso, and even the feet. And the helm of the armor was quite interesting; it was shaped in the form of some type of dog or wolf: a bushy canine with thick, golden hairs on its face flaring out to the left and right of the helmet. From the tip of the nose and down, it was empty, cut out for Luca to breathe and speak.

  “What is that a likeness of?” Luca said.

  “It’s a hound,” Druuk said, pausing. “It was her favorite type of animal. She admired its cunningness, its determination.” And then he lowered his head, as if in thought.

  Luca’s eyes beamed with amazement, and he smiled at the thought of his mom making him a golden armor to wear as a warrior. But his joyous disposition quickly changed, and thoughts began to invade his mind, especially one in particular, and his eyes swelled up with tears.

  “What good is wearing armor without a sword to wield?” Distressed, Luca ran out of the room and down the passageway, diving into the darkened back room.

  “Luca!” his father cried out, running after him.

  When he caught up to his son, Luca had already dried away his tears and forgotten about his woes, for something had peaked his curiosity, something displayed on the wall in front of him. It was part of a larger image, but they could not make out the rest, for the back room was shrouded in darkness.

  “What is it, Father?” Luca said.

  “It seems to be another painting,” Druuk said as he ran to the front to bring back the torch. Once he came back, Druuk saw that there was a place prepared for someone to make a fire a few feet from the back wall.

  “Hmm,” Druuk murmured thoughtfully. There was an abundant source of kindling and tinder near the place to make the fire. “Looks like someone wants us to make a fire.”

  After gathering all the items, he used the torch to light a substantial fire in the room, and Druuk and Luca stood in front of the fire, gazing at the magnificent painting in front of them.

  The painting was expansive, measuring about twelve feet by nine feet, and it was painted in many vibrant colors. They could clearly distinguish all of the variety of objects that made up the painting. With their eyes, they read the drawing’s life; it was an image of a number of children running and gathering around a huge rock, and on the rock was a charming lady with long, flowing hair. In her hands she held a glorious harp, and she strummed the strings to bring out certain temptations that drew the children in. Flowing from the harp were images of musical notes, books, dancing, and people pondering, as if philosophizing.

  The children in the painting were covered by cascading elegant robes, and their faces were of pure joy, or rather, happiness, something uniquely temporal but powerful. The children held up their hands, reaching with open arms for everything that came out of the maiden’s harp.

  On the top corner of the painting was the sun, shining its rays on the little children. And there was a cliff in the top part of the painting, and on the cliff sat a young child, drooping and sullen, as if truly humbled. His face told of an infinite sadness.

  Druuk suddenly sensed a feeling of oddness, a certain façade. His discerning spirit was not going to let this feeling pass, and he knew right there that something was not right. He turned his head to his rear, eying the flaming fire with his discerning eyes, and then he turned his sight on the top of the wall behind the fire and saw a small hole that led outside. He could tell, or sense, that it was made for the moonlight to come in, so he made a quick decision.

  “Son, help me put out the fire,” he said, rushing to the front to gather some blankets.

  “But why?” Luca said. “We won’t be able to see the painting.”

  “Heed my words,” Druuk said as he came in and handed Luca a couple of small blankets. “Do it, Luca.”

  And so Luca and his father did their best to put out the fire, and in no time, the flames that were once there were no more, and darkness reigned.

  “Now what?” Luca said. />
  “We wait,” Druuk said. As soon as the prince said those words, a stream of moonlight came in from the outside by way of the hole, faintly at first, then stronger by the second, until it became a full-fledged shining beam of light, and with that, the room blew up with life, and the painting shined once more.

  “How can that be?” Luca said as he placed his eyes on the new images in front of him.

  “I knew it,” Druuk said. “We weren’t looking at the image as it truly was, but only a shell of it. This is the true image, son. This is the truth of what we see.”

  Now the image was clear as day, and it was full of many shades of shadow, for the image now was a dark work of art. And the image itself was horrendous: the children were no longer in flowing robes, but in beastly armor, forged in many shapes and colors, and their faces no longer showcased happiness, but a grinding and wailing of teeth. They looked to be screaming in horror, condemning the one standing on the large rock.

  The lady of the rock was no longer charming and beautiful, but a tall beast with a long mane, and instead of a harp, it held a lance and a sword in its arms, calling all the children to come hither, to come to the darkness and leave the sun.

  Circling the children were adult humans made of shadow, and black spirit-like mists hovered above them. Where the sun once stood in the painting was now a bulging, angry moon, and a fog encompassed the whole of the painting. It was truly a sunless land.

  “Father?” Luca said with wary eyes.

  “Yes, son?”

  “The beast atop the rock?” Luca said with a slight stutter. “Is that—”

  “Yes, that’s the Gremleh,” Druuk affirmed with gloom in his eyes. “That’s the beast that took your mother.” After a few moments, Druuk sensed that dark things abounded. “We must go and leave this place. We’ve seen enough.”

  Druuk gently pushed his son back into the front room, but before the prince himself was ready to step out, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The moon’s rays had finally revealed the last part of the image, the cliff with the sullen boy. The young child, who was at first seated lowly with a look of shame, was now standing upright, exalted, and the child wore a golden armor in the likeness of a hound, and he barked at the moon for its rebellion against the sun, and the child was truly powerful.

  “Son?” Druuk said, calling out to Luca. “Son, wait.” But something suddenly came over Druuk—his illness had taken a turn for the worse. “Luca?” Druuk said, feeling weary and exhausted. “Luca, you—”

  “What was that, Father?” Luca said, already at the entrance to the cave.

  “Luca, you must—,” and as he said those last words, Druuk plunged to the floor with blood spewing from his nose.

  “Father!” cried out Luca, diving to catch his father. “What’s wrong? Father, wake up!” But it was fruitless, for the prince had fallen unconscious and was in need of immediate help.

  Luca grabbed his father with all his might and dragged him up to the surface of the land, where he continuously tried to raise him up on his horse. He did not know how to do this, and he was beginning to feel defeated, with streams of tears washing down his drooping cheeks. He also felt as if he needed to make haste, for he sensed dark things surrounding them.

  He looked towards the horizon, to a black shadow mass in the distance, and it was moving. But he felt at peace for some reason, and he was right to feel this way, for out of the black mass came a form in the shape of a woman. She carried a walking stick with her, and she was clothed in the most colorful of garments. This woman was Elba, an elder healer, belonging to a group of traveling healers known as Rohpadors.

  “There is an ailing prince once again,” Elba said as she approached him. “I could feel him deteriorate from miles away, but the fog began to confuse me as to where he was. That fog is a bastard of the land. But it’s not stronger than me.” She turned to Luca. “Young one, my name is Elba. I was the one that helped heal you when you were just a wee one, the night you were born with your crushed leg. Your father took you to us. He’s in good hands. You must trust me.”

  “Come on, lad,” Elba said, reaching out her hand. And out of the shadows, a structure came forth, that of a large caravan pulled by a number of horses. The doors opened up, and three Rohpadors came out, making their ways towards them. “Let’s get ourselves over to the palace, Luca,” Elba said, gently.

  He knew of Elba from the stories his father told him of his birth, and all Luca felt inside the woman was peace and goodness, so he trusted her.

  “Will my father be all right?” Luca asked.

  “On that, I cannot say. That’s up to the Davinian Healer, Torum. But we must get him there quickly if he is to be saved at all.”

  ***