Young Writers Society

The monster slithered its way around the tree, bleeding from one of its legs.

“‘The howl of the wind cut through the dragon’s claws,’” Viska murmured quickly. The air was instantly filled with sharp whistles. Invisible blades raced through the whole forest in front of him, and the monster roared, jumping out at Viska, before its throat was pierced by the wind.

The forest rustled once before going silent once more. Viska smiled to himself in satisfaction, then glanced down at Fell. The boy was shivering subtly, his hands closed tightly around the pipe. “You haven’t seen worse,” Viska told him. In response, Fell glared up at him.

“This is why I hate wizards,” Fell hissed venomously. Viska shrugged, and carefully scanned the area with narrowed eyes.

Above him, through the branches, the sun was rising. The trees were bathed in orange and red. Signaling the end of darkness, a warm wind circled Viska, blowing his hair into his face softly. He exhaled, and blinked slowly.

“Are you going to kill me?” breaking the warm silence, Fell asked.

Viska tugged up one end of his lips. “No. You’re coming with me to the palace. And you don’t have a choice.”

“I have a place to go,” Fell protested. He took a hasty step away from Viska, seething. “I’m not going with a wizard.”

After taking one more glance at the forest around him, Viska turned his gaze onto Fell again. “You don’t have a place to go. Chimi don’t keep homes.”

A dark shadow fell across Fell’s face, and he lowered his eyes, chewing on his lower lip. He clenched the pipe tighter. Viska also looked at the pipe. “I’m not going to take it, alright?” he said, sighing. He took another glance up at the morning sky. The warmth made him lid his eyes halfway in comfort.

For a long while, Fell stayed silent. Then he tugged on the end of Viska’s gray robe. “You have a damn voice,” Viska snapped, pulling the robe away in annoyance.

Fell ignored him. “I heard the beggars sing,” he muttered. “Gray hair. Gray eyes. Gray clothes. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Viska’s smile slowly faded from his face. He raised an eyebrow. “They do sing of me. And it’s not what I care to hear.”

“But, if you’re—“

Quickly, Viska cut off Fell’s words. “Be quiet. ‘And the bird cries into the heavens, cursing its broken wings. Shall its eyes forever bleed tears. Yet the throes of life will loosen when light leaves.’”

Viska closed his eyes softly in concentration. “May freedom embrace the song of the dead bird.’”

Slowly, the ends of Fell and Viska’s fingers began to fade. With his eyes wide, Fell frantically attempted to grab at his vanishing digits. “What have you done?” he hissed.

Crossing his arms lightly, Viska stole a last look at the red sky. “My spells are slow, but they’re still the most certain and beautiful ones. Just wait.”

Fell watched his torso scatter into the rays of sunlight, breathing shakily. A second later, his eyes went away.

* * *

The hall was filled with raised voices when Viska and Fell stumbled into it. Before Fell could react to the glimmering gems all around him, Viska unclasped his robe and put it over Fell’s head, covering his eyes.

Dawn clapped his hands together sharply, silencing the nobles who stood in two long lines on the either side of him. “Come back later,” he ordered. “I have other matters to take care of.”

With a last murmur, the nobles quieted down and piled out of the hall. As they passed widely around Viska and Fell, an old man with whitened hair gave Viska a look of distaste. Another woman glanced away sharply. Viska simply tapped his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for them to go out of the hall.

When the jeweled doors shut behind him, Viska lightly knelt down on one knee. “Your majesty,” he murmured to Dawn.

Dawn nodded, putting his hands on the handles of the gold throne. “Greetings. Is it done?”

Viska straightened up, and slowly raised his gaze so that it reached the foot of the throne. “Yes. Of course. Now, if I may go,” he said carefully, and turned around halfway, pulling Fell with him with one arm.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dawn raised a hand. “Wait.”

The corners of Viska’s lips flinched. He glanced back with tightly drawn eyes. “Yes, your majesty?”

Wearing a light frown on his face, Dawn made a flicking motion with his chin. “Who is that wearing the robe?”

“Nobody,” Viska replied after a split second of consideration.

Dawn’s golden eyes languidly studied the smaller figure of Fell. Viska stood motionlessly, while on the other hand, Fell began to shift on his feet uncomfortably. Dawn raised an eyebrow at a strand of white hair that was poking out from beneath the robe. His lips curled coldly. “Viska, don’t you think I’ve been overlooking too many things from you?”

Only a few seconds had to pass until, wordlessly, Viska reached out and removed the robe from Fell’s head. While Fell blinked at Dawn, Viska put the robe around his shoulders again stiffly.

Picking his hands up from the throne, Dawn leaned forward, his eyes gleaming amber. “A Chimi? Master of poison from birth?”

Viska parted his lips to answer, yet before he could, Fell knelt down on one knee. “Yes, your majesty,” he answered. Viska frowned at the steadiness of his voice, which was too different from the quivering tone of a child from just a few moments before.

Gazing down at Fell with wonder evident in his eyes, Dawn drummed a finger against his chin. “Name?” he asked after a while.

“Fell,” Fell immediately replied. Then, after a second, he added; “Your majesty.”

Dawn nodded, his eyes curving slightly. “Good. You see, Fell, I personally don’t believe that a Chimi had killed my great-grandfather. Even if one did, that shouldn’t associate with you. Am I correct?”

Fell bowed his head more. “Yes, your majesty.” Viska attempted to search for any signs of fear in his voice, yet couldn’t find any.

“I would like for you to start training to become a knight,” Dawn said. Instantly, Fell’s head shot up.

In the same moment, Viska pushed Fell to the side roughly and replied, “No.”

Gray’s eyes met Dawn’s in the air. Slowly, Dawn sat back into his throne. His lips curled into a smile, yet his eyes remained cold. “The choice is for Fell to make. Isn’t it?” he inquired, turning to look at Fell.

A silent moment passed by before Fell nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

Viska glared at him in disbelief, yet Fell didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re an insolent boy. You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Viska growled.

Fell ignored him completely. “I want to kill a wizard,” he whispered. A glint of interest jumped into Dawn’s eyes, and he nodded for Fell to go on. “She killed my parents. I want revenge.”

“If you become a knight and serve me, that won’t be a problem,” Dawn reassured Fell. Then he glanced to the side at Viska absently. “You are dismissed.”

Viska’s eyes narrowed. “Your majesty, you have just seen this boy,” he said.

“You are dismissed,” Dawn told him again.

It seemed like a miracle that Viska managed to keep his face straight while he walked out of the hall.