Year 25-1
Life was a game of cautious steps. From birth, we were all trying to make the right decisions. Decisions to keep us safe. Decisions to move us along. Decisions to keep us from being on the wrong end of a blade. We took one cautious step after another and prayed not to fall through, but life was long. Life was dreadfully long. Eventually, we all made a misstep. Even those who never stepped wrongly could always find they spent their entire life moving in the wrong direction.
I couldn’t say if deciding to help Tucker was a mistake or the best decision I had ever made. Regardless, I had decided to keep our paths together for longer than expected.
“Wake up,” a voice pulled me from my dreams.
It only took two cycles. Two years.
That’s how long it took to live freely. That’s how long it had taken us to become partners truly. Lying beside me, Tucker’s body kept me warm until I sat up to address the satyr who so rudely interrupted my sleep.
“Penn, if you’ve started another fire, I’ll have your ass on a pike,” I said through my morning grog and fog.
When I decided to help Tucker, I never imagined it would lead me to a life in The Enchanted Forest with mythical creatures as our neighbors. Our bed was under the roof of a hollow tree. Our doors were vines, if not to say nonexistent. But in that place, the fear of terrors that came at night was irrational. I let Tucker change me in many ways, but I missed doors. I missed privacy. Penn and the other inhabitants of the forests refused to learn the luxury of privacy. There were moments when I felt I had changed more than anyone else, but I couldn't complain, considering all I had. Though I often complained.
Like an oasis, Tucker made the frustration worth the time.
We made it to the East, but not as hunters. We were liberators. Still, a life lived was a life of struggle, both big and small.
“It is a fire, but not mine,” Penn answered.
I gathered my pants, boots, and sword. While I dressed myself, Tucker slept, still at peace.
“Then who?” I questioned.
Penn and I stepped outside, and the forest was ablaze. What should have been green and blue was red and black. Smoke hid the distance, but there was no doubt in my mind. We were under attack.
In the thick of dark clouds, I heard voices whaling all around. Bodies fell, and swords clashed. It was a struggle to see anything as the flames grew ravenous. Who was after us? Who meant to harm fae of peace? As I drew my sword, an answer came charging my way. Straight from the smoke, on horseback, and covered in armor, a soldier of the King’s reign knocked me on my ass.
“Tucker!” I yelled as I picked myself up from the dirt to take my stance with Penn behind me.
“Drake,” Penn called, clinging to my arm while I readied myself for the soldier climbing off his horse to face me.
“Tucker,” I yelled again.
A single soldier was a fight I could win, but as I stood with my home behind my back, many figures stepped into view. We were surrounded. Shrieks of death continued to paint the air, and I knew we were done.
“Tucker,” I called again.
“Yes,” Tucker answered finally.
He stepped out of our home nude as the morning light and with a lack of concern that one should have carried in our predicament. He glanced around us, and while I held our ground, he took to a position before me. Why would he put himself at the center of a death circle?
“Tucker?!” Penn and I both exclaimed until my partner raised a hand.
Rain began to fall, and fires smoldered to a halt. While Tucker showed off, as usual, a soldier lunged at him. I stepped in to block a slash that might have taken Tucker’s hands. With the smoke clearing, the sun brought light enough to see corpses littered around us, but they were not our allies. Soldiers, a countless number of them, were dead. They were defeated by those I called friends. Fairies, elves, Satyrs, and Tucker stood while the King’s men lay at our feet, disemboweled. Those I thought had had us cornered were, in fact, outnumbered.
With the fire dead, Tucker returned to our treehouse, and I lowered my weapon before taking a breath and following him. Outside our door of vines, the voices of men became too loud to ignore. Then they were snuffed out by fae, many of whom were lethal even without weapons.
After the battle was indeed done, I spoke.
“This is the third attack in 2 months,” I said while watching Tucker dress himself in his usual rags and perfect blue hooded cloak.
“I’m aware,” he answered.
“You don’t seem worried,” I said.
He never panicked or knew paranoia. Truth be told, it was one of his better qualities, especially compared to my more temperamental nature in the past.
“No one was hurt,” he debated while finally clothed.
“But their homes. We can rebuild a hundred times, but each time it gets harder because we lose more,” I argued while crossing our small space to hold his shoulders.
“What would you have us do?” “You know what I would do,” I said.
“We would never win a war,” he remarked.
I held him firmly while I gazed into his smoking eyes. He was always right, but I hated having to admit it. Though, it helped that he never threw salt.
“We could. I believe in us,” I added, finally releasing him so I might dawn my shirt I noticed at our feet.
“We are not King’s,” he said.
“But we could be. We could be better than kings.”
“That is what we are, is it not?”
“Not if we don’t protect our people,” I continued to argue.
Outside our door, I could hear our friends already moving the dead. We came to that place to be free of the King’s reach, but how could we ignore his arm had grown longer?
“Facing a nation will not protect; it will endanger,” Tucker said while stepping out of our treehouse.
I followed behind him.
With our house resting at the top of a hill, the destruction of our morning was evident. None of ours might have died, but how many were injured? How many lost their treasures? How many would hold fear in their heart deeper than before? Tucker, though his ideas were good, they may not have been realistic at all times.
“We’re already in danger,” I said, gesturing to a house caving in on itself while we spoke.
He noticed it. I knew he did, but I couldn’t understand what he saw.
“Penn and the others will need help,” Tucker said.
Was he deflecting, or did he agree with me?
“What will you do today?” I asked, breathing to keep the conversation from becoming an argument.
“Look for greater protection,” he said with a faint smile.
“So you’ll stare into nothing for half the day again,” I joked.
“Perhaps,” he answered.
Maybe I was blind to reality. Souls born of magic could protect themselves, especially when working together. And Tucker... Tucker was Tucker. Perhaps I, the only boy wielding a sword, had fear because I was alone.
“I don’t understand your power. If you haven’t found anything yet, what would make today any different?” I asked.
“To earn the gifts of a Seer, I made a vow,” he explained.
“To never hurt, harm, or kill. I know.”
“My vow was made to a God of wisdom and guidance. When I break my promise, she hurts me, but the longer I keep my word, the more she enhances my gift,” he said.
All mages made vows to gods. The commitment and the deity determined the granted gifts. Often, the more significant the vow, the greater the power. Only certain fae had the power to use magic without making a vow. I understood that much without ever using magic myself.
“Meaning?” I asked, pressing for Tucker to continue his line because I couldn’t see the end of it.
“What I could not see yesterday may be clear today,” he finished.
How his abilities advanced was often unpredictable, even though it should have been obvious to me by then. One day he could open locked doors; another, he could conjure spirits. The gifts of a Seer, one who had made a strong and demanding vow, were tremendous. Tucker’s only limitation was lethality.
“You want to do more, but you do plenty,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“Not enough. We’re supposed to be their leaders, but you are the one they would give a crown. My value, my only worth, is in a fight. I feel I need to fight something or someone. It could be stupid, but I know it somehow, Tucker,” I debated, perhaps with myself.
“You fought to get us here; with that, you have done enough,” Tucker added, but I looked away.
What more could I do? By the day were we not trapping ourselves in an endless cycle?
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