Chapter 2
The final rays of sunlight had barely begun to dwindle over Trader's Square when the final merchant's cart was rolled away. Huge torches were erected in the four corners of the Square, each flame large enough to heat a blacksmith's furnace. Strings of lanterns were draped between them, designed and colored by different members of the community to remember their lost loved ones. New carts rolled in, carrying popcorn and candy for the children, bottles for catching fireflies, and fresh ale for the adults. Sections of the Square were cornered off for different activities, one for music and dancing, one dedicated to games for the children, and still another for contests amongst the teens. Workers rolled wheelbarrows full of wood from the forests, and by the time the stars began to appear, a huge bonfire burned in the center of the Square.
Music floated through the air as citizens arrived, some wearing ceremonial tunics and cloaks, others bringing mementoes of their loved ones to share during storytelling around the fire. Dancers laughed as their shadows twirled in the torchlight, and children chased each other through the crowds. The rhythmic pulse of fireflies dotted the air above the celebration, and the full moon shone brightly in the evening sky.
The Festival of Souls had begun.
Arus wore his usual attire save for his grey bandana. In its place, he wore his father's, a white strip of silk with his family crest on the front. The design was embroidered in red, sewn into the image of two open hands cupped together in offering. Dayne had told him that the image was a reminder to always remain humble and selfless.
He separated from his mother as soon as they arrived and headed for the contest area. Not surprisingly, Vultrel was already in the dueling ring squaring off against another of Master Eaisan's students, Anton Vermenas. At seventeen years old, Anton stood more than a head taller than Vultrel with shaggy brown curls that dangled just above his arrogant eyes. Arus knew better; Anton's size was a disadvantage more often than not. Vultrel had defeated him every time the two met in Master Eaisan's class.
Vultrel, wearing his usual black pants and sleeveless tunic, wielded a wooden training sword. Their weapons clacked against each other as they dueled across the ring, and Vultrel scored two quick points for blows to Anton's thigh. The muscular young man fought back, pushing Vultrel toward the edge of the ring where crowds of teens had gathered to watch. But Vultrel remained patient and alert, refusing to allow anxiousness or frustration take over his actions. Anton finally lunged forward in an attempt to overwhelm him, and Vultrel spun to the right with the wooden sword extended, catching his opponent off-guard with a blow to the back for a third and final point. Arus clapped and cheered with the rest of the spectators as Vultrel extended his hand to Anton.
"Good match," he said with a smile. Anton said nothing. Instead, he stormed off into the crowd, leaving his opponent's outstretched hand. Vultrel shook his head and placed the wooden sword on the ground in the center of the ring, then greeted Arus with a wave. "Big oaf," he muttered, nodding in Anton's direction. "All size and no brains."
"Don't be too hard on him," Arus said. "Not everyone picks things up as quickly as you do. I know that from experience."
Vultrel burst into laughter. "Give me a break, Arus. He doesn't practice his techniques. He's too wrapped up in himself. Even Father says so. You may not be able to defeat me yet, but you could take Anton one-handed."
"Nice fight, Vultrel," a female voice came from behind. Without looking, Arus knew who had arrived. It was an effort not to cringe.
"Thanks, Melia," Vultrel's reply was smooth. "It was nothing."
Arus struggled to keep his cheeks from heating as he turned. Melia Sheai stood just behind him, a young girl with glitter on her cheeks and elegant brown curls tied back in a pink ribbon. She pawed at her pink dress, obviously trying to look her best for Vultrel. Not surprisingly, the blond-haired Katlyn Ambris stood beside her, dressed in black pants and a golden silk shirt. She brushed her flowing hair back with her fingers as she eyed Arus.
"Hi," she said with a giggle. "Are you and Vultrel going to duel tonight?"
Arus opened his mouth to reply, but Vultrel as already speaking. "Nah, we don't want to make anyone else feel bad, right Arus?"
Raising an eyebrow, Arus murmured "Confidence, not arrogance."
"Gotta be cool, man," Vultrel whispered. "Got nothing to do with arrogance."
Arus turned his attention back to Melia and Katlyn. The four had known each other for years, but it wasn't until recently that the young ladies had shown a deeper interest in himself and Vultrel. He didn't quite understand why, but they both made him nervous. "Maybe later," he finally answered Katlyn's question.
"Can't wait!" She clapped her hands.
"We were just going to get some popcorn," Melia said, brown eyes shifting between the two. "Want to come with us?"
Vultrel hopped over the rope surrounding the battle ring. "Sounds great!"
Arus nodded reluctantly. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, he just didn't know how to talk to girls the way Vultrel did. "Sounds tasty." Immediately he regretted the sentence. Tasty? Who says ‘tasty?'
Katlyn and Melia didn't seem to notice. With a beaming smile, Melia nodded. "Great! Maybe we can catch some fireflies, too!"
"I'll race you there!" Vultrel burst into a run, laughing as Melia chased after him.
"No fair!" she called, holding the front of her dress to keep from stumbling. "You got a head start!"
As they disappeared into the crowd, Katlyn turned her eyes back to Arus. "Race you to the popcorn stand?"
Arus could feel himself blushing. Inside, he argued with himself over what to do. What do I do? What do I say? If Vultrel hadn't run off without me, I could've let him do the talking. Do I go? What if I lose? She'll probably laugh at me, and so would Melia and Vultrel. Decide, you dolt! She's staring at you!
"Well?" a slight uneasiness had come to Katlyn's face. "Do you want to go?"
"Um . . . Sure, but let's walk," he managed. "It's crowded, and I wouldn't want to bump into anyone."
"Oh, come on!" Katlyn insisted, tugging at his arm. "You afraid I'll beat you?"
"N-no, it's not that," he stammered, "I just don't want to knock anyone over or hurt anyone, that's all."
Her smile vanished, replaced by dejection. "You know, Melia was right about you," she sighed, releasing his hand. "You do need to lighten up."
She vanished into the crowds before Arus could respond, leaving him standing alone beside the battle ring. It wasn't the first time he'd driven a girl off with his nervousness, but he wasn't going to let it get to him tonight. He hadn't come to court girls, he'd come to pay respect to his father.
The sky continued to darken as the night wore on, surrounding the moon and stars in a sea of black. Hours passed, and Arus found himself sitting on a log at the bonfire beside his mother, listening to Mayor Randolf share stories about his deceased wife. Many familiar faces surrounded the fire. Farmer Boyer sat to the left beside his wife and his daughter, Clarissa, and Ben Mantes, the burly village blacksmith, sat beside them. On the other side of the bonfire, Vultrel's mother, Veran Lurei, listened alongside Danton and Ellie Vermenas, Anton's parents. Her thick black hair was braided neatly and draped over her shoulder. She kept smoothing her purple dress and picking at her nails as though she was nervous. Not too far behind her, Vultrel could be seen leaping into the air with an open bottle, trying to snatch fireflies. Katlyn and Melia cheered him on, clapping their hands and laughing. Arus rolled his eyes and gazed back at the fire.
"The crest looks good on you, Son," Master Eaisan's noble voice cut through the ambient noise of the Festival. Arus looked up to see a proud smile on his face. "Reminds me of your father."
Arus was on his feet in an instant. "It was his, Sir," he said, bowing in respect.
To say that Eaisan was a large man would be a dramatic understatement. He stood nearly twice Arus' height
, with a sturdy frame and muscular physique. He wore his white wraparound jacket, embroidered with the Lurei family crest on the left. Purple silk pants covered his legs, flaring as they extended toward his sandals. The black sheath that held his curved sword was tied to the back of his belt. The thing was half a length longer than Arus' weapon. Eaisan's black hair was tied back in a short ponytail, and his smile warmed the night nearly as much as the bonfire.
"Hello, Eaisan," Arus' mother spoke, rising from her seat. "I trust this evening finds you well?"
"Good to see you again, Elayna," Eaisan gave her a warm hug. "How's everything?"
"As well as can be expected," she responded. "Times are rough, but Arus—bless his heart—he helps me through it."
Eaisan turned his attention back to Arus. "I'm surprised you're not off entertaining the young ladies with Vultrel." He motioned down the path.
Arus' heart sank. The last thing he needed was for his mother to learn that girls had been interested in them. As he'd feared, her eyes lit up as she gazed at Katlyn and Melia.
"Oh, Arus, they're cute!" she giggled. "What are their names? Do they like you? Why don't you go talk to them?"
"Not now, Mother," he said, rolling his eyes and sitting back down. "I'm not in the mood."
"Ah, that's all right, Son." Eaisan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Everyone grows in their own time. Don't let anyone rush you. When you're ready, you'll know."
"Well, your son certainly seems ready," Elayna noted, pointing at Vultrel.
Eaisan shook his head as he stared at Melia and Katlyn. "Too soon, if you ask me." He let out a long sigh. "Time goes by so quickly these days, doesn't it?"
Hours passed as the villagers continued talking about their lost ones around the fire. When the children had exhausted all of their energy and settled in with their parents, the storytelling began. Farmer Mandon told the story of The Tiger's Claw, and Mayor Randolf regaled them with The Tale of the Golden Key. When Master Eaisan took a seat behind the mayor, Arus knew that The Blade of Kaleo would be next.
"Did I miss anything good?" Vultrel's whisper came from behind.
"Nah," Arus shook his head, rising to his feet. "Just the usual stories. But it looks like your father is up next."
Arus moved behind the log where his mother sat and stood beside Vultrel. They spoke quietly to avoid disturbing the storytelling. "Have fun with Melia and Katlyn?"
Vultrel grinned and motioned to the next log on the right. The girls were both there, waving sheepishly at them. "You missed out, pal. Why didn't you come with us?"
"I'm not good with girls, Vultrel. You know that."
"Never gonna learn if you don't try. You don't—"
He was cut off by a round of applause from the circle of villagers. Mayor Randolf had finished his story, and Master Eaisan was rising to his feet. Before he'd even taken his place before the fire, requests came from the crowd. Clarissa, a little girl of only five years, called, "I wanna hear about Kaleo! Please tell us ‘bout Kaleo, Master Lurei!"
Eaisan smiled back at her, bowing slightly in her direction. "You say you want to hear about The Blade of Kaleo? Forged by the angels of the heavens, used by the Maker to carve the stars in the sky and the mountains of the land?"
Clarissa jumped up and down. "Yes! Yes!! Please!!"
"It would be an honor, milady," Eaisan bowed deeply this time, the way a knight would bow to his queen. "The Blade of Kaleo."
Despite the fact that Arus knew the story by heart, he always enjoyed Master Eaisan's rendition of the tale. He told it with such emotion and dramatic prowess, adding grand flourishes of his hands and raising or lowering his voice to match the mood of each scene. He made it seem as though the story was being played out in front of them, and no matter how many times he told it, Arus never tired of it.
"Journey with me," Eaisan began, walking around the fire, "to a world far from this one. A galaxy far from ours, and a time long before tonight. Come to the ends of the universe, to the beginning of time, when nothing existed but the Maker and His Kingdom. For this is where my story begins, long before the first rising of the sun or the first waxing of the moon. Before the first laugh of the first child and before the first twinkle of the first star. Heaven shook right down to its foundation, and darkness crept over the holy Kingdom. Kuldaan, an angel fallen from the grace of the Maker and cast into the emptiness of the Abyss, led the Fallen Ones into the outer circle of Heaven's courtyards. Greed drowned him, and lust for power consumed him. Heaven's throne would be soon be his own."
Eaisan spread his hands above his head, looking to the sky as he spoke. "The forces of the Maker were strong, firing arrows of golden light into the darkness of the Fallen Ones' hearts. Angels fought one another across the paradise, darkness and light meeting each other in the ultimate battle of good versus evil. And for a time, the Maker's armies prevailed. But on the eve of the conflict's first anniversary, Kuldaan's armies burst through the gates of the White Palace, the Evil One himself leading the charge. And so the Maker called forth his most trusted servant, an angel named Azriel. The Holy One entrusted Azriel with the task of slaying Kuldaan and bestowed upon him the holy blade of evil's bane: The Blade of Kaleo."
A few cheers rose from the circle of villagers. Arus couldn't help but smile. It wasn't the heroism or the glory or the honor that enthralled him, it was the hope. The Blade of Kaleo symbolized hope for anyone who ever struggled. It taught people to never give up in the face of adversity; there was always hope for a better future.
Eaisan's story continued long into the night, detailing the many battles between Azriel and Kuldaan. After seeing his followers fall at Azriel's hands, Kuldaan fled from the White Palace. Azriel pursued, and the two fought across the heavens. Each time it seemed as though Azriel was about to destroy The Evil One, Kuldaan would manage to scamper away like the rat that he was. And then, during an epic battle on the cliffs of Mount Arcadia, The Blade of Kaleo was knocked from Azriel's hands and sailed over the edge of the precipice. Azriel barely managed to escape with his life, but the holy sword was lost in the Abyss, leaving Kuldaan free to rebuild his forces and strike again.
"When the Maker learned of the loss of the Blade, he summoned an army of his angels to enter the Abyss and recover the weapon," Eaisan continued, motioning with his arms as though he were commanding a brigade of soldiers. "The hunt began shortly after . . ."
Eaisan's voice trailed off into the background as a shift in the shadows behind the bonfire caught Arus' attention. It was only momentary, and it blended into the surrounding darkness as quickly as it had shown itself. By this time, most of the other villagers had either joined the audience or returned to their homes. If there was someone—or something—back there, it was unlikely anyone else had seen.
"Hey," Arus nudged Vultrel with his elbow. He nodded discreetly toward the alley between the blacksmith's shop and the cobbler's store. "Did you see anything back there?"
"No, why? Did you?"
For a moment, Arus wondered if he'd imagined it. "I thought so," he whispered so as to not disturb Master Eaisan's story. "It's probably nothing, but what if . . ."
"Wolves?"
"I doubt it. Not inside the village walls."
Vultrel squinted in the direction Arus had pointed. "Then what?"
"Don't know," Arus shrugged. "Thief, maybe? Perhaps trying to sneak into one of the shops while we're all paying attention to the story?"
"Let's check it out," Vultrel said, glancing at the rest of the villagers. "If it's nothing, then there's no harm done. But if it's a thief . . ."
Arus nodded in agreement. "Right. You go right, I'll go left. Try not to attract anyone else's attention. Let them enjoy the story."
With his arms folded across his chest, Arus casually wandered around the left side of the circle, occasionally glancing toward the alleyway. Vultrel did the same on the opposite side. No one paid th
em any mind. The villagers' shadows danced against the shops in the light of the fire, casting doubt on Arus' suspicion that something had moved between them. Still, whatever he'd seen had been enough to pull his attention from Eaisan's story, and that made it worth investigating.
Vultrel disappeared around the right side of the blacksmith's shop while Arus headed into the alley. With only the moonlight to guide him, his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. There were a few sacks of garbage on the ground, but nothing out of the ordinary. Behind the shops, he found Vultrel looking toward the second floor of the blacksmith's store.
"Look," he whispered, pointing up. Arus followed his finger, and blinked in the dim light.
The second floor window was open.
"Maybe Sir Mantes left it that way," he suggested. "You know how warm these summer nights get."
"Perhaps," Vultrel shrugged. "Only one way to—"
The rest of his sentence was drowned by a deafening explosion in the Square. Horrified screams pierced the air, followed by the trampling of countless footsteps in every direction. Arus and Vultrel darted around the building. People scattered in every direction, screaming in terror and shielding their heads with their arms. A new fire raged on the far side of the circle, the evening breeze pushing its flames toward the bonfire in the center. Scorched stone and dirt surrounded it. Arus stared with wide eyes, frozen with a mixture of shock and panic.
"What in blazes—"
A streaming ball of flames shot up from somewhere on the far side of the crowd. It flew in a tight arc, speeding back toward the Square even faster than it had risen. The ground shook with its impact, and the resulting explosion sent bodies and debris flying. Arus hadn't seen such a wicked display of force in years, but he remembered it well.
"The Vermillion Mages," he growled, baring his sword. His thoughts turned to his mother. The explosions had been opposite of where she sat, but Arus didn't see any sign of her. "Mother! Mother, are you all right?"
If she'd replied, the noise of the villagers had swallowed her voice. Arus was about to set out to look for her when a break in the chaos gave him a clear view of Master Eaisan. He stood no more than twenty feet away, sword in hand. Vultrel had already drawn his weapon, and he rushed to his father's side. With one more searching glance around the Square, Arus followed.
"Everyone get to the shelter!" Eaisan was shouting. "Protect the women and children! Go, get moving!"
"Father!" Vultrel called as he reached Eaisan's side. "What happened?"
His father gave him a quick glance. "The Mages, it seems. I'll handle them. Go! See that everyone gets to the shelter right away."
Vultrel's eyes widened with surprise. "No! I want to defend my village alongside—"
"Your mother is injured, Vultrel!" Eaisan cut him off, eyes searching the crowd for any sign of the intruders. "She's on her way to the shelter, but she's been hurt. See that she gets there safely! That's an order, Son!"
Determination replaced Vultrel's shocked expression as he turned and rushed down the road leading to the shelter. Arus stood beside Eaisan in his battle-stance, with the hilt of his weapon raised to his chest and the blade parallel with his shoulders. "Ready to assist, Sir."
Eaisan looked down at him, his lips pursed beneath his narrow eyes. "You too, Arus! Go! Get these people to the shelter!"
"But Master, I—"
Another ball of fire sailed over their heads and exploded through the cobbler's door, sending wooden planks and splinters flying. Eaisan pushed Arus away. "Go! They're coming!!"
"I won't run away!" Arus yelled back, tightening the grip on his weapon. "I'll not sit by and watch them—"
"There is nothing cowardly in what I've asked you to do, Arus!" he shot back. "These people are frightened and helpless. They need you to get them to the shelter safely! They're counting on you, Arus, and so am I! NOW, GO!"
With a cry that pierced the air, Eaisan gave Arus one final push on the back, then rushed into the crowd with his sword raised. It wasn't until the blade pierced the chest of his target that Arus saw them. The Vermillion Mages burst into the Square in force, brandishing short swords and unleashing fiery blasts on their victims. They wore no armor, instead dressed in black pants and vests over dirty shirts of various colors. For a moment, Arus contemplated following Eaisan, but he had a job to do, and he wasn't going to let his master down.
"Everyone, come this way!" he finally called. "We must get to the shelter immediately!"
He led the people west, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He could still hear the explosions in the distance, but he resisted the urge to turn back. Some villagers passed him as they ran while others stopped to catch their breath before continuing. "Come on!" he called, trying to give the people hope. "We can make it! It's not too much further!" Ahead, an elderly woman stumbled to her knees. Arus skidded to a halt beside her and knelt. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she wheezed. "The Maker have mercy on us! What is happening?"
"We're going to be fine," Arus reassured as he helped her up. "Get to the shelter as soon as you can, all right?"
"Bless you, child!" She bowed before continuing on her way.
Arus turned and looked back toward the Square. The crowd was beginning to thin, and he could see new flames rising from the shops in the distance. "Mother . . . Please be alive."
A terrified scream from behind grabbed his attention. One of the Mages had scooped up seven-year-old Max Nadealai and was attempting to flee with the boy in his arms. Arus bared his teeth and raced after them. With a shout, he leapt into the air and thrust his foot forward. The strike caught the kidnapper along the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. Max tumbled free of his grip and scrambled to his feet.
"GO!" Arus shouted, leaping on top of the Mage. With his blade against the soldier's neck, Arus looked up at Max. "Go, Max! Get to the shelter right away!"
The little blond-haired boy stared for a moment at the Vermillion Mage, then nodded and ran away. As one of the villagers grabbed onto his hand and led him after the others, Arus returned his attention to his prisoner. An enemy isn't defeated until he's disarmed and shackled. But how do you disarm a sorcerer? He knew the answer, but as much as he'd trained to use his sword, he had never hurt anyone with it, and hadn't expected to be faced with the decision of ending the life of another for quite some time. "What are you doing here?" he finally demanded.
The little man simply grinned and wrapped his hands around Arus' wrists. A sudden warmth filled his arms, spreading and growing rapidly until his muscles burned like fire. He yanked himself away from the soldier's grasp, but the shifting of his weight gave the Mage the opportunity to struggle free. As they both scrambled to their feet, the Mage drew a short sword from a scabbard on his back. Arus readied his weapon, and the two crossed blades. As they dueled, Arus tried to convince himself of what he knew he had to do. This isn't training class anymore, and he's not Vultrel. This guy wants to kill me. The only way to stop him is if I kill him first. He's invaded my home, attacked my people, and attempted to kidnap a child. I have to do what must be done.
It quickly became apparent that the soldier was not well-trained in swordplay. Arus blocked every attack with ease and responded with such quick strikes that the Mage struggled to keep up. Why doesn't he use magic against me? Why does he rely on a blade when he's got such power at his disposal?
Abruptly, the Mage leapt away, brushing short brown strands of hair away from his narrow eyes. He stared at Arus intently for a brief moment before smiling. "Impressive," he finally said. "You'll do nicely."
Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the Square. Arus stepped to follow before remembering Eaisan's orders. The people have to be secure first. Once they're safe, I can go back to help Master Eaisan.
"Arus!"
Vultrel appeared on the road a fair distance away. "Are you all right?
Where's Father?" he called.
Arus returned his weapon to its sheath as Vultrel came to a stop before him. "I'm fine. I don't know about Master Eaisan. He ordered us to help the villagers then . . ." He hesitated, unsure if the image of Vultrel's father attacking an army of Vermillion Mages alone was something he wanted to share. "Then he ran off," he finally said.
"I'm going back to help him." Vultrel was already drawing his sword. "I'm not—"
Arus grabbed his arm as he tried to pass. "No, Vultrel. We have our orders. The people need to be brought to safety, and Master Eaisan trusted the job to us. We can't let him down."
Vultrel looked longingly toward Trader's Square, but he eventually nodded in agreement. "Right. First things first. But after everyone is in the shelter, we help Father. Agreed?"
Arus paused, another worry weighing on his mind. "Have you seen my mother? I haven't seen any sign of her."
"She's fine. She's at the shelter."
It was as though the weight of a thousand sacks of vegetables had been lifted from his shoulders. "All right, then. As soon as the people are safe, we return to Master Eaisan's side."
Vultrel nodded and started down the road; the majority of the villagers were already further down the street. With one final look around, Arus lifted his foot to follow.
And another shift in the shadows stopped him in his tracks.
The moonlight had dimmed significantly, as though someone had moved between it and the street. Arus looked to the sky and blinked. A girl no taller than he stood atop one of the houses, her slim form standing in front of the moon. Shadows concealed most of her features, but her thick black hair blew to the side in the evening breeze. A dark cloth covered her face from the bridge of her nose down, and another ran across her forehead and disappeared into her hair. Her attire was hard to see in the shadows, but a long leather whip dangled from her right hand. Arus couldn't see her eyes, but he could feel the chill of her stare.
"Vultrel!" he called, looking back. "Vultrel, come here! Look!"
But when his eyes returned to the sky, she was gone. Arus blinked again, wondering if the darkness was playing tricks on him. Vultrel returned to his side. "What? What is it?"
"Uh . . ." Arus rubbed his forehead. "Nothing. Come on, let's get moving."
The shelter was nothing more than a large storage basement beneath the Keroko Inn. It had once been used to house the wounded during the war, and though they had to squeeze together to in order to fit as many as possible, it was large enough to hold most of the villagers. The boys led the last few people to the solid steel doors behind the building and guided them down the stone steps. Lanterns had already been lit, and the injured were being tended to the far left. Two soldiers of the Keroko Militia guarded the doors. Once everyone was inside, the heavy iron cross bar was lowered and locked into place.
Vultrel pushed through the crowd to where his mother was resting and kneeled beside the makeshift cot.
"How is she?" Arus asked. She looked up at him and smiled.
"I'm all right," she told him, pain evident in her voice. "Just a little shaken up."
Burns covered the lower half of her left leg. Scattered blisters had formed from her knee to her ankle, and the surrounding skin was a deep maroon color. "We'll get you help as soon as we can," Vultrel told her. "Just hang in there."
"Arus!" a frantic shout came from the crowd. Elayna Sheeth burst through the crowd and threw her arms around him. "Thank goodness you're safe! I feared you'd joined Eaisan in the fight!"
"I'm fine, Mother," he assured her. For a moment, he thought about telling her of his encounter with the Vermillion soldier, but he saw no reason to panic her even more. "Why is this happening?" he asked instead. "Why are they attacking us again?"
"Old wounds that never healed, I'm sure," Veran Lurei said. She fiddled with her braid, obviously trying to keep her mind off of the pain. "I do hope Eaisan takes care of himself."
"No worries, Mother." Vultrel rose to his feet with a great smile. "Arus and I are going to go help him. Just rest here and I'm sure the medical team will tend to you in no time."
Elayna grabbed Arus' shoulders. "You're not going anywhere!" she insisted. "I can't have you—"
A loud knock came from the steel doors. The murmuring crowd quickly silenced out of a collective-yet-unspoken fear of being discovered. One of the guards, clad in steel armor and a bell-shaped helmet, slid the viewport open. "Who goes there?"
"I don't suppose you have room for a few more in there?" a familiar voice called.
"Father!" Vultrel shouted, rushing to the stairs. The soldiers opened the doors and Master Eaisan descended the staircase, followed by several members of the Keroko Militia. The village cheered for Keroko's victory, bringing flashbacks of the Vermillion War to the surface of Arus' mind. He stood beside Vultrel as Eaisan reached the end of the stairs, and they bowed in respect to their teacher.
"A job well done," Eaisan said, returning the bow. His voice was solemn. "Unfortunately, the battle was not without casualties. Is Anton here?"
The towering young man pushed to the front of the crowd. "Where are my parents?" he demanded, his face twisted with anger. "What did those wretched Mages do to them?"
Eaisan put his hand on Anton's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Son. I'm afraid your parents were killed in the initial explosion."
The anger in Anton's face shattered, replaced by shock and disbelief. "No . . . that can't be! I'm sure they got out before the attack."
"They were sitting close to me, Anton," Veran put in, unable to look at him. "I'm sorry, but the blast came down right on top of them."
"I don't believe it!" he shouted, pushing past Eaisan and the soldiers. "I won't! Not until I see for myself!"
He threw the doors open and ran into the night. After a long silence, Veran spoke again. "Were any others lost, Eaisan?"
"So far, those are the only two confirmed deaths. There are several other injuries—old Than Morson lost his leg, and Markus and Solaan are pretty beat up—but no more deaths have been reported. The militia is seeing to the injured in the Square."
"We failed," Vultrel murmured, hanging his head. "We were supposed to protect the villagers, and I—"
"There'll be none of that, Vultrel," Eaisan voice was sharp. "You boys did a fine job. Look around you. Look at all the people that survived thanks to you two. I'm very proud of both of you. You handled yourselves well."
"He saved my boy," a voice came from the crowd. Madeline Nadealai, a frail blond-haired woman, emerged with her son Max in tow. She was young for a mother, having given birth to Max when she was only nineteen. And she was younger for a widow; her husband had died in the Vermillion War. "The Mages tried to kidnap Max, but he stopped them." She pointed at Arus.
Little Max rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Arus' waist. "Thank you, Arus! Thank you!"
Arus patted the boy on the back, but somewhere in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling of unfinished business began to surface. Everyone looked at him as though they expected some inspiring words or a heroic recount of the incident, but Arus couldn't let go of the fact that he let the would-be kidnapper escape. "I'm just glad I could help," was all he managed to say.
Eaisan put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "A village child safe in the arms of his hero," he nodded toward Max. "You've never looked more like your father."
To know that he'd helped someone else made him feel good, but to be compared to Dayne Sheeth in any way was nothing short of an honor. Still, there was that nagging—a piece of Arus that wished he had finished off the Mage. Had the roles been reversed, he'd have shown no such mercy to me.
Again, the people looked at him expectantly, but Vultrel came to his rescue. "Should we head back out and make sure there are no stragglers left? We shouldn't be too quick to let our guard down."
"We took down every one we saw," Eaisan reassured him. "Between myself
, the Keroko Militia, and that girl . . ." his words faded as his expression turned to thought.
Arus' ears perked. "Girl?"
Eaisan shrugged. "I don't know who she was, but she defeated more of the Mages than any of us. Young, too. Probably about your age. She didn't say a word; I didn't even see her join the battle. I just turned around and there she was, snapping her whip across the faces of the Vermillion soldiers. Then, just as quickly as she'd appeared, she vanished. Certainly wasn't from around here, not with those clothes. Regardless, her help made a huge difference."
The girl. Her stare had felt so cold . . . but she helped. How did she know the Mages would attack? Arus' mind raced with questions. The Vermillion Mages had disappeared years ago when Aratus Truce was defeated. There were rumors that they had become nothing more than desert nomads residing in the Mayahol, but the number of soldiers he'd seen flooding the Square suggested otherwise. The thought of a new war sent chills down his spine.
"The militia is going to triple its patrols tonight," Eaisan was saying. "Tomorrow I'll head to the Mayahol myself to see if I can learn anything about this attack."
Veran let out an exasperated sigh. A white-clothed medic had begun to rub ointment on her burns, but her stern eyes were fixed squarely on her husband. "Eaisan, I don't want you going out there. Lord Sarathon condemned the deserts for a reason, you know."
"I'm not going to enter the desert itself, my dear," Eaisan assured her. "I'll walk the border with my eyes on the sands and see whatever I may see. I'm sure King Sarathon will send his own brigade of lances into the Mayahol as soon as word of this attack reaches Castle Asteria."
"May I join you tomorrow, Father?" Vultrel asked, his face bright with excitement.
"Me too," Arus put in.
"No!" Elayna shook her head. "You're not getting involved in this, Arus. I'll not let those sand-eating Mages take the rest of my family from me."
"But Mother, I—"
"She's right, boys," Eaisan agreed. "You were a great help to Keroko tonight, but there's no reason to drag you two into this. My orders to protect the village are a standing order; that mission is never complete. Be always on your guard, and watch out for your fellow man. That is what I ask of you."
Arus bowed respectfully to his teacher. "Yes, Master. As you wish."
Vultrel shook his head. "I want to do more, Father. I am happy to assist the villagers, but I want to take the fight to the enemy rather than wait for them to come to us. I want to stop them from hurting anyone else before they do it!"
Eaisan turned to leave the shelter. He stopped at the door, turning only halfway to his son. "If this turns into another full-blown war, you will have more action than you can handle, Son. Enjoy peace while you can get it, because once it's gone, you'll wish you'd appreciated it more before it slipped away."
It was hours before Eaisan and a few of the high-ranking militiamen returned and declared it safe for everyone to return to their homes. In bed that night, Arus lay awake, staring at the sword in its stand beside his bed. The night had seemed like a dream come true; a dream reborn as a nightmare. The vengeful desires had always been there, dormant amongst his sense of honor and responsibility. And even in battle with the Vermillion Mage, those feelings had remained submerged, controlled by the code of ethics and morality that both his father and Master Eaisan had instilled in him.
But now, lying awake in the dark, those bitter feelings began to stir. I had the chance to avenge you, Father. I could've made the Vermillion Mages pay for what they did to you. Why didn't I?
Because it wasn't the right thing to do. Arus knew that. The last thing he wanted to do was kill another man. But the Mages aren't men. They're animals. He cursed himself inwardly. You let that soldier live tonight, and he'll likely come back with more of his comrades next time. Then how many will die? What if war ravages the kingdom again? Will you still be so compassionate? Will you let them run past you and strike down your neighbors? Your friends? Your mother? Vultrel? Master Eaisan?
With a dejected sigh, Arus rolled over and closed his eyes. "I hope you're proud of me, Father, because I'm not sure if I am."