The tenebrous curtain of night was aflame. Splashes of red and orange gnawed insistently at the black. The flames splayed against a distant sky, scraping in futility as the world below was being reduced to ash. Billowing smoke rolled endlessly and added a dull grey tint to the collage of colour. The fields were still in the dead of moonlight but alive with fire. The once dazzling purples, yellows, and reds of the flowers were blackened by heat and buried in the grey of ash.
Adélia ran through the meadows charred with death. Fire. Fire filled her vision as she dashed in a panic toward her home. Endless shades of red replaced the lively greens that had occupied her sight in the forest. Everywhere she looked the constant grip of flame engulfed all that she knew and loved. The fire swallowed stone and wood with remorseless vigour. It beat against her skin with unrelenting heat and stung her eyes with unyielding brightness. She held the few flowers she brought back from Gohenur close to her to protect them and trudged onwards. Her father’s spear gleamed like starlight in her hands.
As she approached the edges of Luneder, Adélia could see the buildings, mere silhouettes immolated in cloaks of bright yellow. But she could not only see, she could hear. Nightmarish sounds pierced through the crackle of flame. Pained screams and howls filled the air, terrifying cries that would stay with Adélia long after the flames extinguished and the embers died.
Then she saw the shadows. Black shapes moved deftly among the flames near the main gate. There was no panic in their motions, only a determined, killer intent. They were men Adélia did not recognise. Armed with swords and spears, they cut down any who attempted to flee the village.
More screams. More howls. A part of her wanted to stay back. To run away. To get away from this place. She could not discern whether it was cowardice or caution. Adélia moved sluggishly through the paralysing fear, but she decided to go ahead. It is said that affection overrules wisdom, and so the girl’s love for her village and the desire to find her family precluded any notion of staying away or fleeing.
The main gate was not an option, though Adélia remembered there are ways to enter Luneder unseen. She quickly changed her course, averting her gaze from the unsettling phantoms at the gate, and headed for Dronam’s garden. She cautiously lowered the spear. The glowing light could give away her position and already Adélia feared that perhaps the invaders had seen it as she approached.
As she ran the path that only this morning had brought her joyously into the village, questions rippled in her mind like startled fish in a pond. What had happened here? Who were the invaders? Where had they come from? How come no one had a chance to escape? Adélia choked back tears when her train of thought settled uncomfortably on questions about her parents. Where were they? Were they safe?
She kept running, shaking her head as if to make the worry and fear fall out and dissipate. On her left, the blaze sprayed incessantly over the high wooden wall like boiling water in a pot, each flaming lick a reminder of the inferno raging inside. If she closed her eyes, the smell of burnt things pierced her nostrils. And even if she held her breath and stopped her ears from the ceaseless cries, the scorching touch of heat was ever present. Nothing could block out the unfolding tragedy.
When Adélia arrived at the clearing leading into the garden, she was horrified to see thick smoke and flame concentrated where the old man’s house was. She feared for him and for his garden. But getting in this time would prove a lot more difficult. The thick foliage through which she had crawled earlier creaked and cracked under the deceptive weightlessness of fire. The wooden boards which had rotted and fallen, giving Adélia access to Dronam’s garden, were now steeped in embers and in danger of collapsing along with the entire section of the wall. The opening spewed out smoke threateningly.
Still, Adélia was determined to find out what was really happening and to find her parents. Ignorance chokes consolation. The pain of not knowing would be too great a burden to bear, so the girl pressed forward. Putting the spear aside for a moment, she hid the flowers in her garments and tucked her wavy scarlet hair behind the collar of her simple dress. Then, with spear in one hand and the other drawing up her dress over her mouth and nose, Adélia lowered herself and began to crawl through the opening.
She had to be careful not to grind the fragile flowers against the ground, to ensure the spear did not get stuck between planks of wood, and to keep her hair from touching the embers. With eyes closed against the smoke and only short, muffled breaths for air, the agonising seconds through the opening seemed to draw out for hours. Suddenly, Adélia felt a painful lick against her left shoulder. She had gotten too close to the burning wood. The sting made her hurriedly scramble through the last part of the hole.
She emerged on the other side and it was as if she stepped into a furnace. At least outside some of the sea currents and forest breezes fought the choking stillness of the air. Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. Adélia gasped for breath in vain, for the air only burned her throat. It felt like the time she had watched Aresa fire her kiln and the workshop filled with a blazing embrace that seeped into every part of her body. The memory sparked further sombre thoughts.
Adélia coughed and wheezed, attempting to adjust to the heat. She staggered as her vision blurred from the abrupt spike in temperature. She reached out to steady herself but felt only something brittle and warm touch her hand. It crumbled when she grabbed hold. Dazed, she looked around and it took but a moment for realisation to settle in.
The old man’s garden was almost unrecognisable. There was no daylight dancing on dewy strips of flowers, only a dead stillness and the harsh touch of fire. There was no lively, gentle sway filling the air with colour, only lifeless remains buried in a blanket of ash like a black winter. The flames still raged around the garden, framing the entire scene in red. The blaze had been unforgiving, devouring the garden like a rabid dog would a bone. All that remained was a hollow, smouldering caress.
Adélia opened her hand and the charred petals of what may have been a tulip clung to her palm, a broken reminder of beauty and fragility. The fire had not left her unmarked, either. Her clothes were ragged and blackened. Her face, arms, and legs were thick with cinders and soot. Sweat sheened on her forehead and clung to her hair, desperate droplets of moisture in an arid land.
With eyes still locked absently on her hand, Adélia started walking in no particular direction. Each step crunched and crushed burned petals beneath her feet, indistinct sounds against the whirring of fire overhead and all around. The dead flower flew away from her hand, flitting drily before it fell against the ground.
She was roused from her daze when she looked up. Her gaze shifted from her hand and landed on another. Near the door to Dronam’s house, a body was splayed across the threshold. Adélia stopped. It was as if a chill, wintery hand lay hold of her heart and froze her from the inside. She could not clearly see the body sprawled inside past the doorway but she did not need to. The wrinkled hand she could see, with its skin creased like a spider’s web, told her everything.
The shock and sadness and loss and loneliness hit her all at once. Suddenly disoriented and surrounded by a forest of fire, Adélia collapsed. Her home, her humble Luneder was gone. Dronam was gone. Her mother and father were probably… She wanted to cry but it was like trying to drown the sun. The heat dried up her tears before they fell.
It was from this moment that Adélia began to develop a painful awareness of the transience of things. Life is slave to the whims of death and decay. Every petal stir and every breath, every stone and every tree, every cloud and every wave, all are driven along by inscrutable forces to an inevitable end. One may try and grasp and hoard and grab hold… but like sand through fingertips every moment and memory slips by evanescently. She may not have grasped all of this at once, but the seed had been sown.
Looking around, Adélia saw the air filled with kindling cinders flown by a struggling wind. They filled her view like fireflies. And she realised that fire, too, comes to nothing. Not long from now and the fire will die, the ember will cool, and soon no trace will be left of it. The force which had reduced all else to naught is itself brought low by things more menacing and unappeasable still.
And to fathom that all things are swept by in this unavoidable cycle toward decay and dissolution, and to suddenly see one’s place in it and appreciate all things for their fleeting beauty… that is true perspective. Adélia realised she was a mere breath in a hurricane. It made her dream of forever, of eternity, of a place where things healed and endured.
A familiar sting brought Adélia to her senses again. Suddenly she was in Luneder again. The burn on her left shoulder ached intently. The fire flared all around her. The incessant screams were overwhelming. The smell of smoke simmered.
The urgency of her mission also dawned afresh. She rose, steeled herself, and tightened the grip on her spear. Adélia plotted a mental map from the garden to her house. She knew the village and its pathways better than anyone. She could get from the gate to the dock in minutes, with every shortcut and obscure alley in-between as familiar as the strings to a lutist. She hoped the fire had not destroyed the clandestine paths she intended to take. For above all else she needed to avoid detection. Whoever the invaders were, she could not afford to be seen or caught. Not for the first time or last, hesitation and uncertainty gripped her with icy claws.
Adélia ran through the remains of Dronam’s gate and into the alleyways. She would have to traverse at least part of the main thoroughfare to reach the obscure alley leading away from the Pin and Needle. From the haberdashery it would be a short trip through the tailor’s district to get to a portion of the city wall she named the Planks. Long unused and untended, it still protected Luneder well enough but the inside portion was a mess of wood and brick. Adélia often used it to cut across several districts without traffic or hindrance.
But as she rehearsed the route mid-sprint, her eyes caught hold of a shape moving frantically nearby. Startled, Adélia took cover. She held her breath to slow her racing heart and so as to not inhale fumes from a stream of fire close by. She instinctively covered her spear with a part of her dress.
The wild, panicked footsteps were accompanied by breathless whimpers and occasional cries. It was someone running. Running from something. Another set of clattering footsteps, rough and heavy, followed on the heels of the first. The whimper rose into a scream. Then Adélia heard a sickening crunch as something metal struck flesh. The shouting was silenced. She heard a heavy thump as the body fell.
‘Speedy little blighter,’ a voice said to itself.
Adélia sat motionless. She clutched her spear with the tenacity of a young child with its favourite toy. Her knuckles were white with pressure. With eyes closed, she tried not to think of the life that was just snuffed, or of the murderous playfulness of the assailant. And all the while she tried not to think of what would happen if she took a breath, choked, and coughed from the smoke. She tried not to dwell on what would happen if they were to find her.
Then she heard another set of footfalls approaching. Slower. Precise. Through the buzzing fear that rang in her ears, Adélia thought she could make out the subtle, fluttering movements of a cape.
‘Oi, what’re you doin’ here?’ called the same voice with the touch of playful recognition. The accent was rough and difficult to place, but decidedly seaman-like. ‘Fancy a prance around the fire? I mus’ say the red captures ya nicely.’
The other figure halted, footsteps fading into silence. For a moment, quiet lingered in the air.
‘Stop fooling around, Kest,’ the new voice intoned, more refined. ‘There’s still a notable absence of fire on the northwest end. Get to it.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Kest mockingly. A harsh chuckle followed his words.
‘You know how much our lord hates a shoddy job.’ There was no amusement in the answering voice.
Kest cleared his throat roughly. ‘Right. Speakin’ of, I wanted to tell ya. Saw somethin’ weird out the main gate not long ago. There was a… light out in the smoke, way out of town. Could swear it was movin’ and everything.’
Adélia froze. She became conscious of the glowing light hidden crudely by her garments. So someone had noticed it after all. Even without seeing the other man, Adélia could feel his eyes narrowing in suspicion and intrigue. She knew he was watching and waiting. Her breath caught in her throat.
When no answer was forthcoming, Kest continued.
‘So what? Ya think anybody is lookin’ out fer the town here? Could someone have come lookin’? Just bein’ careful, ya know?’
‘Rest assured, nobody cares about the backwater sods in this town. The only reason we’re out here is for that pesky woodcarver.’ Spite fizzled and bubbled underneath the surface of his words. ‘Now, no more talk. Get to it.’ There was an unnerving familiarity to the man’s tone. Footsteps rose again as the figure walked off briskly along the thoroughfare.
Kest grunted and grumbled unintelligibly, then set off in a different direction. A metallic scrape followed his steps.
The intruders’ conversation brought Adélia some relief and clarity. At least it was clear the fire was caused by men. Earlier, when she first saw Luneder aflame she fancied for an instant that a dragon had burned down her home. She may not have a lute, but she had a spear… She chided herself for her folly. Dragons lived in stories and in faraway places and times. Not here. Not today.
But it also brought distress. The invaders were here for her father. She could not make sense of that fact, and it gnawed at her like rust. Worry sprang afresh. And they were intending to burn the northwest end next. Her pathway. A boiling anger thawed her paralysing fear. She would get there first.
Adélia peered cautiously over the top of the barrels where she had hid. There was no sign of Kest, the other man, or anyone else. Locating the Pin and Needle proved difficult from where she was, but Adélia wanted to make sure the path was clear. Finally, she rose from cover and moved away from the endless billow of smoke nearby. She drew a long breath and coughed. Without looking at the body straggled on the ground, she ran.
In the thoroughfare the heat was less intense. Before long, tears streamed down Adélia’s face. But whether it was from the smoke earlier or the anger or the loss of those she loved, she did not know and did not care.
When Adélia reached the Pin and Needle she met the familiar sight of fire and destruction. But she had no time to mourn the loss of yet another landmark adored since childhood. Thick voices and gritting footsteps announced the arrival of more invaders. She ducked into the alley to the left of the store and ran ahead, heedless of the flames raging overhead.
Soon, the sweetness of anger faded from her lips and she was left with only the bitter, acrid feeling in her stomach that hatred brings. The courage that resentment beckons retreated. Terror descended on her like a smothering blanket. And after a while, none of this seemed real anymore. Numbed with the cold of fear and pain, the flames no longer stung. Blinded with the blurriness of tears, her surroundings became surreal. She moved dreamily through a nightmare, driven onward only by her strength of will and an affectionate desire. She continued through the fire.
After twists and turns and many burns, she arrived at the Planks. Here the blinding light gave way to sullen darkness. Cool air broke through the heat. The cries of the night were replaced by a muffled silence. Adélia felt like she could breathe and see and hear again, and the insubstantial sensation of weightlessness dissipated. She was thankful the familiarity of the Planks was untainted by fire for now.
The problem of darkness was solved by the spearhead. It shone brightly in her hands, illuminating the way more reliably than torchlight. Adélia questioned again what sort of material the mysterious spearhead was made of. She ran her hand along it. It was cool, yet a throbbing warmth emanated from it. She had no idea where the light came from or how it lay trapped inside the glass-like case. But the spear lit her way through the tangles of the Planks, and for that she was grateful.
Navigating the disarray of wood and stone was slower at night, even with the helpful light of the spear. After a few minutes it was slower still. It felt like she could only see several paces ahead of her instead of the dozen metres as before. Then she noticed. The spearhead’s light dulled. Almost imperceptibly at first, but it was surely becoming dimmer. Adélia did not know what this meant or what it foreboded. She usually enjoyed the challenge of traversing the obstacles of the Planks, but urgency drove her to frustration. She decided to climb the wall and walk along the parapet. It was more treacherous, but at least it would be out of the encroaching darkness.
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She scampered across several jutting stones and grabbed hold of a thick outlying log. Heaving herself up, she repeated the practiced motions up to the next layer. The spearhead dimmed yet again with a flicker. As she climbed her thoughts wandered. What would she even do when she found her family? How could she hope to stand against well-armed and ruthless men? She feared how this would all end. Words came flooding back. The only reason we’re out here is for that pesky woodcarver.
Adélia reached the top of the wall, bone-tired and weary. As she stood up, she closed her eyes and took a breath. Some of the chill night air teased her nostrils and stroked her face. But soon smoke intruded like an unwelcome guest and slapped her. She opened her eyes and the scene was as she remembered. From her vantage point on the northwest wall, she got a clear view of Luneder as it led away down toward the docks. The city was a pyre. Beyond, the sea was tinged with firelight and rolled on unabated into the dark horizon.
Something caught her attention in the distance by the docks. Ships. Foreign, unfamiliar ships. Black sails. Pirate vessels. The sea. She tasted venom in her mouth. Her thoughts roiled. In a rush, pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The invaders had come from the sea. They were pirates. Ocean scavengers and bandits who preyed on the weak.
Other scraps of information and shards of memory scrambled for her attention. She recalled stories and fables of invaders from the sea. Reports of massacres and ruthlessness. Swashbuckling adventures of buccaneers clad in leather and sporting eye patches. Kest’s boorish accent. Pirate’s Lookout. Fact and fiction, memory and myth tossed around in her mind. Her apprehension toward the sea came biting back.
The storm inside Adélia’s head was calmed by one particular memory of her father. It had been the day Menkalinan took her to Pirate’s Lookout to watch the ocean. There was an overcast sky. Clouds loomed overhead and the wind skited freely. The sea raged restlessly. On the way home, Adélia seemed skittish and jittery.
‘What is wrong, my dear?’ Menkalinan asked. There was true gentleness and concern in his voice.
‘Is Luneder safe?’ she asked without preamble. Her eyes remained fixated on the ground.
Menkalinan stared blankly at Adélia for a moment. Realising what her concern was, he sighed easily, the way he did before a story.
‘My dear Adélia, look around,’ he began. ‘Gohenur protects Luneder like a watchful guardian, like…’ he stopped for a moment, reaching for an example. ‘Like Lanurel watching his lover’s city until he could meet her again.’
Adélia raised her eyes and looked at the forest in the distance.
‘The lands itself guards our village,’ he continued. ‘The hills and valleys, all. So there is nothing to fear.’
‘What about the sea?’ Adélia gazed at her father intently.
Menkalinan paused. ‘Well… the sea is wilder, I admit,’ he said. ‘But I have an old friend who loves the sea. He says the sea may not transgress its boundary. It may froth and flail, but like a caged lion it will not overcome its borders. I think there is wisdom in that.’
Adélia looked at her father again, the fear in her emerald eyes seemingly placated by his words. In truth, she was not entirely convinced, for even a caged lion could still be terrifying. But she felt safer. And she wished to change the subject. ‘Tell me the story of Lanurel again, father,’ she petitioned.
‘Certainly…’
Her father’s words trailed into obscurity as Adélia’s focus returned to the present. A distant clutter and a spark somewhere behind her distracted her. Kest was doing his job, it seemed. She turned to the vessels once more. The docks seemed to bustle with activity but they were too far away to make out any definite shapes.
The sea may not transgress its boundary but one who strides the sea may use it to terrible advantage, she thought. If one were fearless and perhaps foolish enough to rattle the lion’s cage… he would be a force to be reckoned with. With such grim thoughts in mind Adélia ran the length of the parapet as the spear dimmed and the fire roared.
It was with much trepidation that Adélia climbed down into the furnace of Luneder’s streets once more. With the path behind her swallowed by flames, she had no choice but to move forward. She ran on through alleys and past marketplaces. Here where Luneder was customarily busier, signs of carnage were everywhere. Bodies lay broken and mangled. Wares and goods were strewn about. And always the starving fire devoured body and building without being satisfied.
Adélia could now see Pirate’s Lookout in the distance, a sign she was nearing her home. She kept her eyes on it like a beacon. It saved her from looking around at the slaughter and breaking down in tears. With each step closer, the fear in her stomach tightened. What would she do? What could she do?
‘Astera lutheneth!’ Without warning, a loud voice pierced all. Authoritative and commanding, it echoed through all of Luneder. For an instant afterward, all noise was drowned and feeling faded away as if the whole world had stopped. Then, brightness far outshining the meagre light of the fire burst and engulfed Adélia’s vision. She shielded her eyes as the surge knocked her to the ground.
Adélia lay dazed for a moment, but something about the commanding voice stirred her into action. It was her father’s voice. She had never heard him so livid or so loud before. But it was unmistakeably him.
The outburst had come from the direction of the docks, so Adélia decided to head that way. She was unsure what caused the deluge of light or what had made her father yell those words, words which made no sense to her. But she was determined to find him. As she ran toward Pirate’s Lookout, she noticed the spear glowed white-hot in her hands, brighter than she had ever seen it. It was as if something had fanned the flames inside the spearhead.
Adélia quickly realised that the spectacle which just took place would surely attract the attention of most of the pirates that were scattered throughout Luneder. So instead of heading down the thoroughfare toward the docks, she crept through more alleys and passages. Curiously, the spearhead dimmed dangerously low. Like a short-lived candle, the earlier glow gave way to an unsteady flicker. The erratic nature of the weapon confused her, but at least now there was almost no danger of being spotted while sneaking toward the docks.
Through fear and fire, Adélia reached the dock district. Ahead, she could see the last portion of an alley giving way to a large clearing. In front of her the dappled cobblestones were replaced by long planks of dark wood; this was the huge central pier that formed the hub of the Luneder docks. Beyond it stood Pirate’s Lookout, solemn and silent. Its rough stones seemed to flicker in the firelight. Looking over the tower, Adélia saw that the vanguard rooms stood empty and dark. Pirates patrolled the steps leading out of the tower. Another mystery solved. No alarm had sounded to warn the residents of Luneder because the main watchtower had been infiltrated. But the question remained as to why no one had seen the ships approach.
From her vantage point, Adélia could see the pirate vessels more clearly. Whereas from the northwest wall she could only make out a tangle of wood and sails, she could now see five distinct ships. A small fleet. Each boat was huge and imposing in its own right, but one stood clearly above the rest. The central ship, flanked by two on each side, was unlike its partners. It looked ancient, its sails tattered and its wood beaten and specked with marks of age and battle. It reminded Adélia of the Haunted Oar, a ghostly pirate ship from her father’s stories.
But for all its worn appearance, the galleon was impressive. Its main mast stood nearly as tall as Pirate’s Lookout itself, giving the watchman in the crow’s nest superb surveillance of the area. Cannons lined the hull all around. The prow featured a prominent metal snakehead, which Adélia guessed was not simply decoration. A similar motif appeared on the sails. A red sea serpent splashed against a black sea.
Adélia looked around the docks to see the source of the commotion earlier. She could make out a few shapes scattered throughout the wooden clearing. Some were sprawled on the ground motionless, but they were not from Luneder. Had the bright flash earlier knocked out some of the pirates? The scene was remarkably still. If there had been a conflict here, it was now over.
Her gaze landed on an imposing figure whose back was turned to her. He wore a tattered coat that bore a marked similarity to the texture of the central vessel. Upon his head was a triangular leather hat, complete with a thick ashen plume. A large halberd was in his right hand, forged of black steel. He had his foot on something and seemed to be speaking. Then the something underneath stirred. Adélia caught a glimpse of it. It was her father.
Undeterred by fear or caution she crept speedily to get closer. As she did, their conversation became audible. She strained to hear them but their words were barely more than indistinct murmurs. Adélia risked approaching even closer, using whatever she could find as cover; barrels, crates, bits of fence, and other objects. There was a marked lack of fire in the docks, meaning no light would give her away.
Adélia inched closer. She heard her father speak.
‘Silnodìr,’ he said. His voice was strained and weak.
There was no reply at first. Only a taut silence like the moment before a predator pounces on its prey.
Then a dark voice laughed hoarsely. ‘That skyborne brat is not going to be pleased,’ it said blankly, as if to itself. The voice bore through her like seawater through stone.
The figure pressed his foot down against Menkalinan’s chest. Menkalinan whimpered. The cries of her father in that moment hurt more than anything Adélia had experienced throughout her ordeal. Adélia had to bite back a cry and with all she had restrain from jumping out of cover. She turned away and clenched her eyes shut.
Footsteps. Someone else approached. A misleadingly placid and composed voice broke the air.
‘You have our thanks, Merenor,’ it said with mock courtesy. It emphasised the last word with a mixture of playfulness and disgust.
Adélia recognised it. It was the same voice that had spoken to Kest. It was the same voice that had spoken to her father earlier today. It was Umar.
Adélia’s self-control broke. Her anger and bitterness won over caution and dismay. She came out from behind her cover, spear clutched tightly in her hands. She screamed.
‘No!’ was all she could say. She breathed heavily and tears flowed freely.
Umar turned to her first. A look of recognition passed his face. ‘Ah, the dove,’ he said with chilling calmness. He looked at her with the same impassive colourless eyes as when they met.
Adélia scowled with a face of pure poison. She eyed him with emeralds filled with venom. Then she looked at the pirate captain. He didn’t stir. Menkalinan was motionless beneath him.
‘My lord, should I—’ began Umar as he instinctively moved his hand toward his scabbard. But he was stopped by a motion from the other figure. The pirate captain raised his left hand to the side without turning. Umar halted to a standstill at the gesture.
Adélia could see the figure’s left forearm was clad in a golden gauntlet. It reflected the distant fire behind them lustrously. She could only guess as to its purpose, since no such gauntlet was found on his right arm which still held the halberd firmly.
The visage that turned to face her was barely human. Distant eyes the deep red of almandine gazed at her. They were impossibly deep and accentuated by the captain’s white complexion. His skeletal appearance was framed by loose ashen locks and a beard like brittle coral. It was futile to guess his age or origin.
‘So this is the one,’ he said. The raspy voice crashed like restless waves.
If Adélia thought she knew fear before, it was like comparing an ant to an elephant. Sheer dread settled into her bones at the sight of the pirate captain. This was no storybook pirate, but a living phantom. With difficulty, she managed to pull her eyes away from his and look at her father who lay on the ground. He seemed to be searching for her as well.
‘N-no… A… Adé…’ Menkalinan sputtered.
Adélia could see the miserable state he was in, bloodied and bruised. Rage filled her anew, and boiling blood melted her paralysis. She screamed, pointed her spear, and rushed at the menacing figure.
But before Umar could do anything to intervene, before Menkalinan could stammer a word of warning, and before the spear could get close to its mark, Adélia was flying. For a moment she saw colours sail in the air with her. Flowers?
With a move swifter than her eyes could follow, the pirate had struck her with the golden gauntlet, sending her reeling backwards. Adélia landed hard. The breath was knocked out of her. Ringing filled her ears. Her spear fell nearby with a clutter. Scattered petals settled gingerly next to her.
Without rising, she clutched at her chest. There was a tear in her garment and the flowers that she had hid were gone. She moved her hand up and winced. The entire area from her collarbone up to her chin was in pain. She touched her lip and felt blood. She lowered her hand and tried to regain her breath.
‘You like flowers,’ the pirate said matter-of-factly, but each word was a tidal wave. He bared his teeth in an inhuman grin. ‘If only you could gaze upon the rose gardens of Sheneh-Adrani.’
Adélia was still staggered and could not make sense of the pirate’s reference. She felt very small and weak. She realised how she must look. A bruised, battered, and burned little girl foolishly facing off a pirate, a killer. Suddenly, she heard a set of heavy, excited footsteps not far off.
‘It’s done, cap’n!’ yelled Kest. ‘The town’s done fer!’
‘Good. We move,’ said the captain. He turned to Menkalinan once more and took the halberd with both hands.
Adélia heard the metallic sound and saw the upraised weapon. She knew what came next. She tried to move. Everything hurt. She tried to stand. All her limbs failed. She saw the pirate standing above her father with halberd held high. Then it came crashing down like merciless lightning. For a moment the entire world was deafeningly quiet, but Adélia could not tell whether it was only her scream which had drowned everything in sorrowed silence. She screamed until her throat burned.
The pirate moved aside. Menkalinan was still, impaled by a cold black bar that reached skyward. The pirate placed his hands on the weapon and jerked. The body moved limply as the halberd came out. The pirate’s cold efficiency was eerie, delivered like a well-practiced line in a play.
As he turned to go, a chilling sound filled the air. A soft voice rose hauntingly as Menkalinan began to sing.
A curse intended for the purest dove
Descended forth from evil’s stake
A noble sacrifice and truest love
Displayed this wretched bane could break
A fearful whim arrayed in gilded glove
Demands relentless life would take
A newfound strength and guidance from above
Defeats the crushing grip of ache
The words rang distantly and settled close by. The melody rose with the lightness of wind and fell with the heaviness of mountains. The notes danced with the lively energy of butterflies and brooded with the melancholic stillness of the forest. Encapsulated in the song’s cadence was all the life and light that words could capture. And at the end, Menkalinan breathed his last as a smile broke out on his face. The music lodged itself in the minds of all present. The spearhead’s light flickered, faded, and died.
No one moved for a long time. Nothing stirred for time uncounted. Kest rudely broke the reverent silence.
‘Bloody ‘ell, what was that all about?’ he swore.
‘That,’ intoned the pirate captain, ‘is proof we have done what we needed to do.’
‘And the girl?’ asked Umar, turning his gaze to Adélia.
‘Let her live.’ The gracious words were spat cold and uncaring.
‘But my lord,’ began Umar in protest. ‘If I may speak out of line for a moment. Is that really wise? You yourself have said ‘An informed peasant is more dangerous than an ignorant prince.’’
‘I did say that,’ said the captain, a hint of pride flavouring the dull voice. ‘But I am also a man of my word.’
When he turned to face Adélia, she was already standing weakly. She reached for the spear and braced herself. Every muscle hurt but she held on. As the pirate walked toward her with cold determination, she staggered forward.
Her spear of extinguished light faced off against the pirate’s dark weapon. The weapons clashed, but there was no contest. The pirate’s polearm was no wooden spear. The weighty lance of black steel and silver knocked the spear away like a twig.
Adélia scampered backwards, too weary to know where she was retreating, too teary-eyed to see. She stumbled over cluttered wooden objects and fell. The pirate stalked lazily and then placed his boot on her chest. She was immobilised. She tried to move and reach for her weapon in vain.
The pirate lord seemed to concentrate for a moment with eyes closed. He held his weapon close. Adélia thought she could feel a subtle hum emanating from the weapon. Then, with an almost imperceptible spark the halberd’s tip started to pulsate with black energy. It distorted the air around it with innumerable shades of darkness.
‘The next time we meet,’ the pirate said coolly, ‘this weapon will claim your life.’
With that, he pointed the halberd downwards and drove it into Adélia’s left shoulder. She had no time to even cry out. The pain bit through her, colder than anything she ever felt and then blackness took her…
Adélia awoke under a granite sky. The pit-pat of rain stirred her to consciousness. The leaden clouds hung close and heavy.
She tried to look around. She moved like lead, but she slowly got a look at her surroundings. The pirates were gone. The vessels were gone. The fire was gone. How long had she been out? Hours? Days?
She tried to rise, but a pain shot sharply through her left shoulder and into her chest. Her heart was as heavy as stone. With the pain came memory. Faces and events came flooding back. The pirate captain loomed largest in her mind. The red of his eyes and the black of his weapon were indelibly seared in her head.
The rain came down harder. For a long time, Adélia simply lay there and listened. There was nothing to be heard but for the sound of raindrops bouncing off stone, ringing off metal, and falling on wood. She lay under the constant drumming of rain. Maybe the heavens wept for Luneder. Perhaps the deluge could cleanse her agony. She soaked in the rain, heedless of the chilling cold. After the endless fire she endured the rain came as a comfort.
Adélia did not know how long it took and she did not know how it happened, but she found herself wandering through Luneder, or at least what remained of it after the inferno. The buildings looked like bones jutting out of a charred carcass. The grey that settles in the air in the wake of rain enveloped the silent debris. Still she wandered on aimlessly. At some point she had found her spear, but it was cold and dead. Not even a ray or a flicker lit her way.
Before long, Adélia’s instincts took her to her own home. She looked blankly at the destroyed remains of the house and her father’s workshop. She walked to the door and pushed. It collapsed with a crash. Stepping inside, she saw the damage was catastrophic. The fire ate away most of the structure and now the rain sagged into the remaining bits of wood and stone. Streams of water blackened by ash and soot ran through the house and dirtied all they touched.
Adélia wandered through her home absently, not really looking for anything. But then she saw her mother. Cassia lay face down near a corner, still and silent. Her clothes were soiled with blood. Memories of her mother pierced her like shards of broken glass.
Adélia, I know you are a bit different.
She drew nearer and collapsed on her knees near her mother. She did not turn her over. Adélia wanted to remember her as perfect and beautiful. She ran her hand through Cassia’s rich, auburn hair.
You are an Amal’ethar after all.
‘Thank you, mother,’ she said after a long time. ‘The forest was wonderful.’ Her words were drowned by the ringing minor melody of the drizzling fall.
Adélia.
There in the seclusion of her house, under a forlorn sky with only the rain as company, Adélia broke down with waves of thick, wracking sobs. At the same time, the wound on her shoulder opened up. Her blood flowed and her tears fell, red and black mingled on the ground.
Adélia clutched her shoulder. She got up quickly and turned her eyes away. She spotted Aresa’s golden vase on the sill, blackened by the fire but still usable. Dronam’s flowers were burned beyond recognition. She grabbed the vase and rushed out of the house in a blur.
She ran out of Luneder. Her father’s words came back to her.
Gohenur protects Luneder like a watchful guardian…
Adélia turned toward the forest and sprinted. Her father’s final song played in her mind. The rain fell in an allegro of a million teardrops.