Destiny Of The Flame

Destiny Of The Flame
by
Sirena Carroll

This story was written for September's round of Spectacular Speculations.

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Moonlight flooded the silent countryside, spreading like liquid silver across the still serenity of the land. It touched the tips of trees, bathing their crowns with an ethereal glow. It sparkled off the rivers and shimmered over lakes in a dazzling conflagration of reflected stars.

The wind played through the branches of the trees, skipped along the smooth surfaces of the water and swept along the ground with a low hum that could be felt for miles. The soft blanket of the velvet sky, encrusted with its brilliant gems, seemed to hold the entire world in the cocoon of a mother’s warm embrace.

Silent and still as this sleeping world appeared at first glance, it was not without its unease. Somewhere to the south, a crow rose from its carrion feast with a triumphant screech. The chill of its terrifying cry tarnished the beauty of that perfect scene with the black and metallic taste of fear.

“The Dark Lord's army strikes again.”

The voice came from a nearby tree.  Shortly after, a lithe figure leapt from its branches and glided on golden wings to the ground with a grace no mere bird could ever match.  “The only question now is how many have been lost this time to the encroaching shadows.”

A second figure, this one on wings of sapphire, descended from another tree, landing lightly beside the first.

“I do not think that the vulture seeks to feed upon our dead this night," she said. "See how it circles to the south. Victorious though it has been to carve a meal for itself, it still flees with haste toward the protection of our enemy's borders. This heartens me. I do not believe this battle has been a lost cause, but finally, a victory the light can be proud of.”

“But for how long, Tíarsha? How long until the dark forces defeat our scattered resistance of boys and old men? How long until the fae stop supporting us with their magic, supplies, and warriors?”

“And why should they do such a thing?” asked Tíarsha.

“What race would settle to die for a hopeless cause?”

“You call finding the Light's Flame a hopeless cause? She is the only one who can release us from this darkness. Without her, our chances of prevailing against Galsaurawn's empire are slim indeed.”

“I was not aware they were vast,” said the gold-winged creature with no small hint of sarcasm in its tone.

“Your negativity will one day be your undoing, Lastín,” Tíarsha sighed. “You view life in only two colors. You must broaden your sights to include the greys and greens, blues and reds of the world. You must not merely settle for the black and white.”

“I see what is presented before me,” Lastín said. “If such colors exist, they will reveal themselves in time. But I shall not pretend to harbor a hope when none is to be found.”

“You need to look past the superficial,” she said softly. “You need view it with your heart, your soul and mind. Do not believe in all your eyes tell you."

“The Míretath await,” Lastín said, changing the subject. “We must away from this wretched place with all haste."

Sighing, Tíarsha gazed into the heavens, silently pleading with the gods for the patience she needed to handle her stubborn companion. Long had it been since Lastín harbored a hope for their survival; a hope that even she could tell was dimming with each passing hour. However, unlike the Golden counselor, she would not give up until she was breathing her last at the feet of the Dark Lord himself. And even then, perhaps there might still be hope.

Tearing her mind away from such dismal matters, Tíarsha touched the sapphire ring on her left forefinger and glanced over at her companion. Lastín gave an almost imperceptible nod and in a flash of golden radiance, he was gone. With one last glance southward and a final plea for strength, Tíarsha too vanished in a shimmer of sapphire.

Not twenty feet away, a figure leapt nimbly from the boughs of another tree. Deep concern filled the striking eyes shining from the depths of a shadowy hood.

“If the Counsel of Míretath are convening once more, then that can only mean one thing,” he whispered to the night. “Andian is in danger beyond any we have seen since the very beginning of time itself.”

He gazed toward the tree in which Lastín had perched. “And it means that for the first time in history, the Miernen are afraid.”

**********

“You wish to do what!” Tíarsha raged, leaping to her feet and glaring at Lastín. Sapphire flames danced in her eyes. “You cannot simply slay a child just because we need her!”

“Was it or was it not you who said we must find the Light's Flame as quickly as possible?” Lastín asked calmly, tilting his head to meet her furious gaze.

“Yes, but-“

“Was it or was it not you who just this night told me that finding her was not a hopeless cause?”

“I did, but that does not mean I condone tearing her from the life she is currently living!”

“We cannot know that she lives a life, Tíarsha,” a third figure with snow-white wings said gently.

“And you are prepared to summon her and take the risk of ending her existence?” the sapphire counselor shot back, abandoning all caution in the face of her fury. “Have we fallen so far as to call a spirit from the cosmos simply to avoid an honest search? Have we grown so heartless as to possibly rip it from a life barely begun, just to fling it into a world of terror and darkness? If that is the case, then I am ashamed to call myself a Mierna!”

Her final shout reverberated through the air, settling into a hum of discontent so fierce it was almost palpable. The circle was quiet for a long moment before anyone spoke or moved.

“Do be seated, child,” the white-winged Mierna intoned gently. “We shall discuss this like civilized beings.”

“I can see naught that is civilized in this barbaric plan," Tíarsha replied bitterly as she resumed her seat.

“I am of similar minds with both Lastín and Tíarsha,” the white Mierna said. “I believe they both make very valid points. We cannot, as Tíarsha has said, tear a soul from an unknown existence. However, we also do not have time to allow the Light’s Flame to come naturally to us as she might. We do not know how long she may live her current life, and our time is running out."

"She lives?" Lastín queried.

"Aye. She lives."

“If that is so, then what do you propose?”


The white Mierna was silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was filled with quiet regret.

“I propose we make her want to die.”

“What!” Tíarsha cried, surging to her feet once more. “That is worse than slaying her! You will make her suffer first? It is revolting, Glídan!”

"Permit me to continue, my child."

The elder Mierna allowed his attention to fall upon each fair face about him, allowed himself to gaze into each pair of striking orbs. Then, as his gaze rested upon Tíarsha's, Lord Glídan, leader of the Miernen, disclosed one of the most dangerous plans time itself had ever heard.

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“Why would he neglect to inform us he had already found her?" Tíarsha murmured to Lastín as they walked upon the Bridge of Sees, both of them gazing into the water. A rippling image hovered there of a young girl seated before a rather curious object. Her fingers rested upon a flat surface covered with small chips, most of them square, arranged in neat rows. Rising vertically from this was what Tíarsha could only surmise as a window, though a stranger outdoor scene she had never before beheld. It was naught more than an expanse of white on a backdrop of blue where nothing moved save a small, pulsating line.

As they watched, tears filled the girl's eyes and cascaded down her cheeks in an unchecked torrent.

“What pain has he inflicted on this poor child?" Tíarsha breathed. "See her eyes. It is as though her heart has been rent in two."

“In a fashion, it has. Glídan has torn her intended from her. Our leader granted her prayers that the young man be cured a fatal illness, and at the same time, turned him into the arms of another.”

“Sweet goddess," Tíarsha gasped. "Please tell me he ceased his manipulations there."

“Nay," Lastín answered in a subdued tone. "Two of the child’s beloved brothers have been eliminated, one at knife point, the other in a tragic accident. Her younger sister and dearest friend suffer as well.”

“Aia, no,” the Sapphire counselor breathed. “He will break her.”

Lastín did not respond. Following his gaze back to the water, Tíarsha realized the girl had moved. She knelt now before a finely carved oak chest, her fingers playing at the strange lock. The lid was raised with trembling hands.

Both Mierna watched in growing alarm as from amidst the folds of crimson velvet, a gleaming dagger was lifted. The hilt glittered with rubies that suddenly looked like droplets of blood upon the cold iron. With a single, fluid movement, the weapon was unsheathed. Wicked and harsh in the half light of its surroundings and affected by the surface of the loch, the blade seemed to grin. Deadly. Thirsty. Evil.

“Oh, no,” Lastín breathed. “It cannot end this way."

Both counselors watched with bated breath as their world's only hope brought the icy metal to bear upon the tender flesh of her wrist. Her hand trembled. Her fingers tightened. Her eyes closed.

“Stop!”

“Tíarsha, no!”

But it was too late. The sapphire counselor had already leapt, allowing her mind to be swallowed by the water. Cold shot through her as she was ripped from her body and yanked through the blackness of space toward the soul she was attempting to save. Stars streamed past as her need drove her, the magic within the lake aiding her in a journey there was no certainty she would ever return from. The water needed a strong tie to transport a soul. Tíarsha’s determination to save the innocent life Glídan was destroying was enough to get her there, but was there enough strength in her other emotions to call her back?

She could not stop it now. If she tried, the tie would be severed and her soul would be forever lost. It was a dangerous gamble she had taken, but one she did not regret. Fate would see her safely home if it was what was meant to be. If not… well then, the Míretath would simply have to go on without her. This child’s destiny did not lie on the angry end of a blade. For now, she would do her job. She would stand between the innocent and death.