5 YEARS AGO

The night was warm, as was usually the case in Santa Fae, but tonight seemed warmer and inviting; asking everyone to step out into the streets and live a little. The people seemed eager to comply as the nightlife in the city lived up to its reputation. The Oro District was always teeming with lights and noise as elves, orcs, and dwarves walked up and down the pavement. Even a dragon or two could be seen trodding along the wide cobblestones built specially to include them.

On nights like this, Sherry knew there was bound to be a lot of activity, and some of it may be the kind they wouldn't like. They parked right on the edge of the most crowded boulevard, patiently staking out the place for any sign of trouble, but it was just people having a good time. The tascas were filled, as everyone drank their fill of the sweet mead of the dwarves from mugs and pints, and even a whole barrel was given to a pale blue dragon sitting on his hunches outside.

“Why don't we ever come here on our days off?” Mort asked, wistfully.

“I do not take them,” Sherry replied, not even turning to look at him.

“Oh, that’s right, you're a workaholic, and I’m your much-ignored conscience telling you it’s ok to take a break now and then.”

“I enjoy the work,” Sherry mused.

“Perhaps just a bit too much,” Mort said, never shy to criticize in good faith. “But I feel I must remind you now and then that there’s a reason we have shifts, where someone takes over so you can go home and do whatever you want.”

Sherry gave a small laugh, “I would not know what to do with myself if I took the time off.”

“Look out the window,” Mort said, pointing at the crowd. “Half the people out there are single.”

“You are not.”

“Yeah, but you are!” Mort said sharply. “Forgive me for saying but, after three centuries, a little companionship would not go amiss for you. I mean, Sherry, as a friend…you need some company in your life.”

“I have you, that is enough,” Sherry said simply, but Mort just pursed his lips, disappointed. Sherry could not stand the look, and feeling guilty she added: “I know you care, but let us not fool each other. Those people…they want nothing to do with me. Not as a friend, nor a lover, or anything else.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Sherry said firmly. “You know my family’s history as well as anyone. The way people see us did not end when the Queen restored our house, if anything, it made them all so much more bitter.”

“I saw through all that, didnt I?” Mort said, smiling weakly.

“You were a child, innocent, and remain to this day…one of a kind,” Sherry said, but fondly.

“You need to let people see you’re not the brooding monster they all imagine,” Mort said kindly. “Well, the brooding part they’ll have to get used to, but the vast kindness you have under all that metal…I wonder if you see it, sometimes.”

Sherry felt quiet, she had never been good at receiving compliments, having received few enough in her long long life. Mort alone knew how to pierce her armor, and make her feel like someone appreciated her. She could understand his desire to help her find others like that in her life, like how he had found Val, but Sherry did not share his optimism. Even by her side, Mort often didn’t see the ugliness of others. The nasty stares, the whispers, and looks of disdain when they had no choice but to show her respect they felt she didn't deserve.

She imagined it sometimes, a house full of life, with people she cherished, maybe a special someone waiting for her every day in the old family hacienda. But it was just a dream. Her family was all dead, their ancestral home lay rotting and forgotten, and no one else would even look at her in the eyes for being a Rull.

“I know you mean well Mort, but I do not think-”

BANG. The sound cracked like a whip in the night air, soon followed by the cacophony of confused screams and the clatter of drinks and silverware falling as people rushed out into the street. Sherry was out of the car before she knew it, already engaged in finding the source of the shooting, which is extremely hard when over a dozen people, including a dragon, are rushing towards you in a panic.

She dodged skillfully through the stampede, Mort by her side, rushing as even more gunshots sounded off ahead of them. A bullet bounced suddenly off the side of her helmet, the loud chink making her recoil and take cover.

“Sherry!” Mort yelled.

“I am fine!” Sherry yelled back, flipping one of the wooden tables outside the bar to hide behind. It was quickly riddled with three holes inches to the right side of her.

The crowd had finally emptied the street, and all was quiet but for a few distant screams of terror. Sherry dared to peak above the table and saw three figures about twelve meters ahead, covered in cloaks and all holding guns, and all of them rather…small. They were children. 

Sherry cursed. There had been rumors of the houseless gangs recruiting younger members, but seeing it enraged her. Giving a human gun to one so young was a crime she could not stand. She’d have to be careful to take them without accidentally hurting them, or worse, letting them hurt themselves.

She signaled Mort, who was taking cover behind the entrance wall of the bar, to move in with her, taking them from above. Sherry summoned the magic from within and saw as Mort did the same, it was a simple spell, but one that was always effective in these situations: A smoke attack. The gray air rushed out of her palm as if she was releasing a small hurricane, and flooded the entire area immediately.

The kids yelled out in surprise and frustration at the sudden blindness, one of them started shooting randomly in panic and Sherry took the leap; she jumped fifteen feet into the air and landed inside the thick wall of smoke, right above the trigger-happy youth, and knocked the gun out of his hand with a quick swipe of hers before tripping him down with a leg sweep.

A loud grunt of pain followed by a soft thud on her left told her Mort had taken down one of the other two beside her, so she moved quickly to find the last one when she heard another gun fire. She immediately ducked out of instinct but heard another body hit the pavement. 

“Mort? Have you secured the last one?” Sherry asked.

There was no answer, but she could hear another sound now, the terrified breathing of a kid…and nothing else. Sherry tried to remain calm, but panic took over, and with a quick rush of magic, she blew the smoke out of the entire street with a powerful gust of wind. In seconds she could see, and her eyes widened in horror.

The last boy stood there, not three feet away from her, his face paralyzed in fear and trying to suppress his crying. He still held the gun in his shaking hands, the tip smoking slightly from that last shot. At his feet…was Mort, lying on the ground, blood pooling around his face. He wasn’t wearing his helmet.

Sherry moved out of instinct, she didnt even feel fully conscious as she walked slowly toward Mort, ignoring the kid, and flipping him over to see his face. She had seen many dead bodies in her long life, too many even for an elf, but this was the second time she held the body of a loved one in her arms…the last one.

She screamed, at least it felt that way, she didnt seem aware of doing so, her focus completely on the frozen ones of her only friend. Blood dripped from the hole in his forehead, and she tried to wipe it away, but she had no cloth, and it just covered her hands as she tried.

“I…I don’t…I’m s-so….sorry…” Sherry barely heard the kid and turned to see him. He was crying now, and she could tell he was scared of her. Rage swelled inside her like it hadn’t since the war, and in that moment, she didnt care that it was a child. She would avenge Mort, she would bring down all her power to bear on him until he felt even a shadow of the pain and emptiness she was feeling.

“P-Please…k-kill me.”

Sherry froze, the words snapped her back to reality, and she noticed her fist was raised and burning with blue flames. She had been ready to hurt this boy, and a deep shame took over her anger and mixed with the sorrow as it took over her body. Sherry fell to her knees and started crying as well, but she didn’t douse the fire, rather letting it burn as if to vent all she felt. She let the flame reach to the sky, a bonfire that could be seen for miles in the city. Even when other knights finally arrived and tried to approach her, she burned.

* * *

Someone flashed a light on Sherry’s eyes, trying to see if her pupils dilated. It might have been hours later, she couldn’t tell, and her body felt numb. She had burned until the sun rose, hoping the flames could consume her somehow. They dragged her away from the scene after that, and it felt as though her soul had left her body.

“Can you follow my finger, Knight Rull?” Her eyes barely obeyed as the woman waved it in front of her face from side to side. It took her a second to recognize her as Knight Yarde, the Chief’s assistant.

Sherry looked to the right and recognized where she was, the Chief’s office, the only place in the city where you could see a large black dragon atop a mountain of gold indoors. He watched her from his heap of riches like a perched bird, his big yellow eyes full of concern.

“Focus on me, please,” Knight Yarde said politely, moving her face back towards her as she pressed her magically illuminated finger on her other eye. “Look at my nose…good…now can you see my fingers wiggling?” Sherry nodded mechanically, she just wanted not to think anymore.

“She’s ok, Chief…at least physically,” Knight Yarde reported, offering her hand to help Sherry stand. She took it reluctantly, she rather felt like she wanted to fall than talk about what happened.

“Sherr’Yand’Rull,” the Chief’s voice reverberated through the great room as it always did, but his tone was softer than she had ever heard.

Sherry tried to stand straight on her own, but Knight Yandre held her steady. “If you wish for a report, sir, I have nothing to add.”

“Please, you should be in bed resting.”

“I am fine, sir,” Sherry said with no conviction.

“You are not,” the Chief replied, with his more usual growl. “I have known you since the war, and I know what you have lost today, pretending otherwise will not do you good.”

“Then why am I here?”

Here, the Chief hesitated, looking away as if to conceal his thoughts. “The Queen wants to see you.”

“I do not care.”

“Knight Rull, please don’t say such things,” Knight Yarde said, alarmed. “The Queen deserves our-”

“I have already given her and this city everything I had,” Sherry said quietly, but she felt that same anger starting to return now.

“And I would never dispute that,” spoke a new voice from across the room, followed by heavy metallic footsteps.

The Queen stepped out from behind the left corner of the golden mound, and both Knight Yarde and The Chief bowed their heads immediately as she approached. Sherry knew she should as well, but right then she felt no inclination to do so. 

“Do not glare at the Queen!” Knight Yandre said, looking outraged.

“Let her be, Fal'Sur'Yarde,” the Queen said, raising a hand to put her at ease. “She has lost more than most, and now even more.”

“And you are here because you care so much?” Sherry remarked, not even caring about the chief blowing out smoke from his nostrils in disapproval.

“I care about all my subjects,” the Queen replied kindly. “Including you and your family, even if I was the only one.”

Sherry grimaced at the reminder. “What do you want?” 

“To be sure you do not self-destruct over this, or hurt others for it.” 

Sherry looked at her, her eyes full of anger, but the Queen met her gaze with pure steel in hers. “They deserve to die for what they did.”

“They are children,” the Queen said pointedly. “Young boys who lost their way and it falls on us to look beyond their mistake and see how we can help them.”

“Help them?” Sherry repeated in disbelief.

“Yes, help them. That is the responsibility of those who rule as much as those who serve the kingdom and this city.”

“THEY MURDERED HIM!” Sherry yelled, unable to contain herself.

“It was an accident,” the Queen said patiently. "They will be punished for that, but I will not let you forget your oath to justice.”

“To hell with your oath and this city! Have you ever been out there, your majesty? Have you seen what our people are reduced to…what you have reduced them to?”

A small eruption stole their attention, as Knight Yarde sparked the magic in her hand until it raged and took the form of a purple-colored bolt of energy. And she looked more than willing to use it on Sherry.

“One more word and I will have your head,” Knight Yarde said, clenching her fist to make the bolt crackle threateningly. “I don’t care how much patience the Queen has for you, if you disrespect her again I will…what?”

The bolt of energy suddenly dissipated and rushed into the palm of the Queen instantly, as if she had summoned it back to her. All their magic came from her, and it was easy to forget sometimes that she could wield it back at any time. “There will be no need for that.”

The Queen waved her hand and the energy was gone like dust. “You have an oath to me, as well, Sher. To obey my command, but I do not want to command this of you. I want you to remember the kindness inside you, and to promise me that you will leave that boy alone.”

Sherry was quiet for a long time. In truth she didn’t want to hurt the boy, she knew it was all one horrible tragedy, and Mort had been the victim of more than just a bullet, as had been the one who fired it.

“I swear,” Sherry said, “but I want something. And if your words are true, you will grant me this, Your Majesty.”

They all tensed, wary of what she would ask, but it seemed only the Queen could guess; she knew her family history well. “I want Mort’s body.”

“Oh Sherr,” the Chief said with a pained voice. “Let the dead rest.”

“He would not want that,” the Queen answered simply.

“You do not know him like I do, he would do this for me. He would help me grieve…as my family has done since we had magic to call upon.”

They stood in silence for a minute, but Sherry held her resolve. “Very well, bring her what she asks, and let it be known that it is my word that no one is to do or say anything against Sherr’Yand’Rule…and her companion while he is bound to her by my magic.”

Knight Yarde looked horrified at the request. “Your Majesty, you cannot seriously consider this!”

“I have spoken,” the Queen replied softly but with the full authority of her station, and everyone knew it was done.

“I thank you,” Sherry said, feeling weak all of a sudden now that reality hit her.

“This will not be permanent,” the Queen countered. “I do this only with the hope that you will heal from this, but if I see you do not, then I will release him myself.”

Sherry felt her heart sink and prayed she would never have to let it get there. The mourning with the undead was not meant to last more than a year or two, but she feared how deep her trauma would run, and having to let go of the one person who she could not live without.