Here Shines the Sun (3 page)

“Get up, prince!” yelled Chazod.

Rook wiped at his bloodied nose and got back up. His lips furled in a snarl. He heard his dad say something to him, but all his attention was focused on his opponent.

Chazod moved in again, swinging his arm. Rather than dodge, Rook pushed forward and brought his own fist up, striking Chazod in the bottom of his chin. Rook had to eat Chazod’s punch as well, but it was worth the sacrifice. He was now inside of Chazod’s reach. He brought his own knee up into Chazod’s groin and reached his hands up, clawing at the boy’s face. Chazod snarled like a rabid dog as he brought his fist down on Rook’s back, over and over again. Rook went to his knees and found the inside of Chazod’s thigh. There, the hard leather of his armor gave way to soft fabric and Rook chomped down as hard as he could.

Chazod howled and fell backward. Rook scrambled on top of him, blood from his nose leaving a gruesome trail up the boy’s body, and he struck at his face. Chazod flailed his arms against the attack and then finally got his legs up and kicked Rook off of him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” snarled Chazod as Rook found himself on the ground. In the next moment Chazod was on top of him. “I’m gonna kill—”

Rook spit right in Chazod’s face and the boy recoiled for just a moment, but it was long enough for Rook to twist his way out from beneath him and get back to his feet. Chazod came at him but Rook threw himself into the boy, head first. He felt his skull knock the wind from Chazod’s body and the older boy fell backward onto his butt.

Chazod bounded back up, blind fury twisting his face into a hideous mask. “You fucking brat! You fucking brat!”

Chazod came at Rook, but Rook noticed something glint in the boy’s hand. It was the dagger. Chazod brought his fist down in a stabbing arc and it was all Rook could do to grab his wrist with both hands, stopping the dagger just short from plunging through his shoulder. As he struggled with Chazod he could hear Callad yelling, something about “no weapons!”.

“I’m gonna fucking gut you, you fucking brat prince!” Spit flew from Chazod’s mouth as Rook struggled to keep the dagger from biting into his shoulder.

Rook growled as he held onto Chazod’s wrist with both hands, but the boy was just too strong. Then Chazod’s other hand went over the dagger’s pommel, and Rook felt the dagger start to sink into the soft flesh beneath his shirt. Anger welled inside of him. The Golothic burned in his pocket. His eyes darted to the side, and he could see Kierza standing there alone, bathed in the soft gaslight of the lamppost. At her feet, Rook could see a ring of fire sprouting from the brick road.

Behind him, Rook now felt his hair ruffled by waves of heat, as if he were standing before the furnace of Callad’s smithy. The Golothic in his pocket burned ever more intensely and he could feel it searing his leg. The fires welled inside of him, anger and wrath filled him as the blade sunk deeper into his flesh. And then all at once, he felt his arms ablaze with fire. Ash swirled around him. He looked up at his arms, but they were not his own. They were hulking, monstrous arms, charred to blackened crisp. Veins of fire flowed beneath their cracked surface and he felt himself push Chazod’s arms up until the dagger slid its way out of his shoulder.

From behind him hot, stinking breath burned his cheek. “Do you remember me upon this night, Rook?” the guttural voice of Bulifer was unmistakable. “I was with you then.”

Rook twisted and spun, throwing Chazod against the wall, taking control of the dagger. They struggled with the blade for a moment, Chazod trying to force Rook’s arms up and away from him, but it was useless. The boy screamed as the dagger’s perfect, deadly tip began inching toward him.

“Were you looking for a second chance?” asked Bulifer. “Looking to redeem yourself for your sister?” The demon chuckled cruelly. “You think I betrayed you, but I did not. Your sister lives. But this one, I won’t help you with. Just look at her: So precious; So helpless. And you’re going to drag her into the fire.”

Rook looked to the side. Kierza was standing within a circle of fire as she watched him. Her eyes flickered, the flames illuminating her ruined face and the slave brand upon her neck.

“Our time nears, Rook.” said the demon from behind him.

Rook snarled and growled as Chazod screamed. He forced the boy’s own hands down, bringing the dagger ever closer to his neck.

“You wanted that knife to taste blood again, didn’t you?” said the demon in his infernal voice. “Your anger and hatred called out to me on this night. I beckoned to call, and you took my hand willingly. Do you not remember?”

Chazod howled in pain as the deadly tip began to draw blood at the base of his shoulder.

Rook’s chest heaved with every fiery breath he engulfed. Spit and blood bubbled upon the edges of his mouth. Blood flowed out from his own wound.

“You can always find me on the other side of the fire.” said the beast, his hot breath searing Rook’s cheek, causing charred flesh to flake off and swirl up into the night sky. “I came to you this night because you are my sacrifice and I will
never
let you go.”

Rook growled furiously as the knife sank into the base of Chazod’s neck, right between his shoulder. The boy howled and fell to the ground, blood running from the wound, the crimson liquid sprouting into flames. The fiery tongues lapped at Rook, growing into towering pillars that surrounded him. Searing winds blew, sweeping the fires in circles.

The flames spiraled around Rook, his body smoldering to ash and soot that was carried off into the heavens by the swirling vortex. Rook cried out, and through the searing fires Kierza’s arms wrapped around him. She hugged him tightly as flames rose and swirled around them, giving way to a grassy field at night.

Kierza looked up into Rook’s eyes. They were both older now. He was a man, young and slender and muscular. He wore his black outfit, the one he usually wore when working in the smithy. He had his leather apron draped over his body and it was streaked with oil and soot. He smelled of coal and burnt metal, and Kierza hugged him close, taking in his wonderful scent. She looked up to him and saw fire gleaming in his eyes. She turned away, and to her horror, there stood a hulking beast. Its flesh was charred and blackened, and through it fiery veins of heat pulsed. It had large horns upon its head that curled up and over and around the sides of its face. And it stared at her with eyes that were like the smoldering ash of Grandon’s cigars.

The demon’s lips furled into a terrible smile and it pointed a long, blackened finger to the night sky.

Kierza and Rook looked up. The moon shown bright and silver upon a sea of pitch black. There were but two stars upon its entire expanse. Then there was a terrible roar, like that of a great fire sweeping across the sky, and one of the stars fell from the heavens, leaving a trail of sparkling, white light in its wake.

Kierza looked upon Rook. In his hand he held the Golothic. It was a small artifact, only slightly larger than an egg, and it was made of some sort of sandy, red stone. It was a hand—a mockery of a human hand—and its slender fingers were bent into the form of a terrible clutch. She was the only person Rook had ever shown the artifact. He had never even told his father, Callad, or his mother, Sierla, of it. He had shared its story with her one night, not so very long ago. And she hated it. It terrified her. It smelled of scorched earth, like something rotten from the bowels of the world, and it was always warm to the touch. And yet, for all its ugliness, it held a strange beauty. The runes on it were beguiling; its form hideous and beautiful all at once. Kierza had many times held the thing when Rook was asleep, marveling at it and hating it. But now, as Rook held it, the fingers moved, closing slightly so that the thing was now almost a fist.

Kierza looked back at the beast.

“The time nears, Rook. My payment comes due.” said the demon. Then its eyes burned into Kierza’s own. It seemed to take its first real notice of her. “What have we here?” It chuckled cruelly. “You should not have come here, my precious little darling. Here there is only fire and anger.” He looked at her and chuckled in his infernal voice again. He pointed his charred finger.

Kierza looked back at Rook, but now he was standing with a little girl. She couldn’t have been much older than she was that night Rook beat her brother. The girl had the most beautiful blue-black eyes; eyes just like Rook’s own. Her hair was long and straight and as black as Rook’s, curling just at the ends where they rested on her shoulders. She wore a white dress with long, white stockings over her legs, and shiny, black shoes on her little feet. She outstretched her arms to Rook. “Remember when you kept us warm with that? Remember when you protected me, and fed me?”

Rook looked at the Golothic in his hand.

“But you left me,” said the little girl, and Rook looked back up at her. “You left me!”

“No,” said Rook. “No!” He tried to hug her but she seemed to be just out of his reach. “No, I didn’t mean to leave you!”

“But you did!” she accused, her voice taking on a venomous edge. “You left me! You left me to starve!”

“No!” cried Rook, trying to clutch at her. “No!”

“You let me starve!” screamed the girl, her eyes narrow, her lips furled. Blood began to flow from her mouth and down her chin. It poured over her white dress, streaking it with crimson.

“No!” cried Rook, falling to his knees. “No!”

“
Yes you did
!” accused the little girl, her voice becoming something more than it should be; something dreadful and wicked in the most terrifying of ways. “
You let me starve
!
I’m hungry! I’m
hungry
!
”

Kierza screamed as Rook dug his nails into his wrist and peeled back the skin. Blood flowed like a river from the wound.

“
I’m hungry
!” shrieked the little girl.

Rook placed his bloody wrist to her mouth.

“
I’m hungry
!”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Rook and Kierza shot up in bed. The blue light of a summer’s night filtered through the curtains of their open window, casting their bedroom in a soft glow. The sheet that covered Rook was drenched in warm sweat and it clung to his limber, muscular frame. He looked at Kierza, her brilliant, green eyes wide; her honey-brown locks sagging with sweat. The wet sheet clung to her narrow shoulders and supple frame and through it he could see her breasts. She was seventeen now, not the ten-year old girl he had seen in his dream. Rook tore the sheet from his body and smoothed his hand down his chest and belly, feeling the muscular ripples of his abdomen. For some reason he had to make sure he was the twenty-year old man he was, and not the angry boy from his dream.

Kierza’s hand reached for his cheek, her slender fingers tracing over their soft angles. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

Rook grabbed her head in his hands and hugged her to his chest. Her hair smelled of summer winds and lavender and he took it all in as his heartbeat eased. After a moment he kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes. He could look into them forever.

“Did you dream of your sister again?” she asked. Her voice was warm and pleasant and its gentle tone complimented the scent of her hair. She traced a finger over the scar on his shoulder.

Rook nodded. He stroked his hand through her hair. “But it was different this time.”

Kierza’s tender lips curled in a faint smile, tugging at the thin, pink skin around her exposed nasal cavity. She put her hand through his short, black hair and then craned her neck up to kiss him softly upon his lips. “How so?”

“You were there.” said Rook, looking into her eyes, wanting to lose himself in them. He traced his hand from one cheek to the other, his finger gently passing over the tissue of her missing nose. “It was the day I fought your brother for you. And then it changed to the one of my sister.”

Kierza licked her lips and turned her head.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Rook, stroking his hand down her soft cheek and over her slender shoulder.

“I had the same dream,” she whispered. She looked back up at him. “And there was a demon.”

Rook’s brow furled. “How did you…”

“He was in your dream too, wasn’t he?” asked Kierza, sitting up straighter now. The damp sheet sagged its way down her body, exposing her supple breasts and the tarnished, pewter heart pendant hanging from her neck. She always wore it, and never took it off. “Was… was that Bulifer?”

Rook looked away from her.

“We did, didn’t we?” said Kierza. “We had the same dream. You fought my brother and the demon was there behind you, whispering in your ear. And then we were in a field and I saw you with a little girl. And the demon… that was Bulifer, the one you told me about, wasn’t it?”

Rook looked at her and nodded slowly.

“And I saw a star fall out of the sky.” said Kierza. “Did you see it too?”

Rook chewed his bottom lip and nodded again. He and Kierza had never shared a dream before and he didn’t quite know what to make of this. The fact that she had seen the demon, Bulifer, concerned him. He’d be damned if he let the creature touch her.

“And… I saw the Golothic close as you held it.” she said.

At that Rook’s and Kierza’s eyes met and they shared a brief moment of understanding. They both leapt naked from the bed. Rook rushed to his pants that were strewn over his dresser and he fumbled with them until Kierza flung aside the curtains, filling the room with pale moonlight and a warm, summer breeze. From outside Rook could hear some distant shouts, too faint to make out the words. He turned to face Kierza, the Golothic in his hand. It was hot. Almost too hot to hold.

Kierza spun around to meet his eyes. “A star really fell from the sky,” she said. She looked back out the window, craning her head around. She turned around to Rook again. “There’s only one star left. It really happened.”

Rook licked his lips and then pursed them into a frown. He held the Golothic out to her. Its fingers were curled up into an almost complete fist. “And this really closed.”