Rend

Story inspired by:

Yet Even Now

“I remember. One fact from all the studies that were forced upon me.”

The page managed a listless response. “Your Majesty is a marvel to remember anything when we are all starving.”

King Reven tapped his fingers on his chest through the long V-neck of his gold and white tunic. The page sat on the stone floor. King Reven stared at the boy, his only audience.

“A fact about divine power in the royal blood.”

The boy squinted at the king. “Everyone knows that, Your Majesty. No one believes you’ll have the guts to do it, though.” King Reven grit his teeth. “I apologized over and over at the temple, made sacrifice after sacrifice, made sure it was witnessed and proper.”

“Maybe you should have done that before the Blazen came.”

“Whatever for?!” The king threw up his hands and scuffed his slippered feet across the bare rock of his room. “Whatever for? I did not need help before. . . . Now, in spite of my perfect efforts of petitioning at the temple, here we are—driven from our country and living like refugees in this stone fortress!”

“Dying in this stone fortress, you mean.”

 “Yes, that—at least you seem resigned to your fate. You used to never say a word, and now you are as loquacious as an equal.” The king pointed a finger at him. “You would have been executed many times over if I was the man I was before all this trouble!”

“I know.”

“Well”—King Reven harrumphed—“so long as you know.”

The page consulted a pocket watch. “Is Your Majesty done talking around the wedding plan for today?”

“Wedding, yes, my wedding—to give the people hope!”

“I would rather have food than hope—or rather, food would be hope.”

“Yes, well, my bride is especially beautiful, and that is something.”

“For you, I guess.”

“That is my point. Now, go summon her, and we shall meet on the Great Balcony.

“You mean the only balcony of the fortress—the one with crumbling railing?”

“Yes, that—It is not as though we will be leaning over the edge, and appearances are important—hope and all that. See what a responsible ruler I have become, allowing my people to gaze upon myself and my bride.”

“What would we do without Your Majesty?”

“Quite so. Now, you must save some compliments for the queen-to-be. Leave at once, and stop distracting me on my wedding day.”

—

King Reven gaped down from the old balcony. “This—what is this?! I did not think things could get any worse!” Tears streamed from his eyes, and he welcomed the momentary blurring of his vision.

There was a noise of many feet marching in rhythm. An army of Blazen arrived like torches at the fortress walls. As one, the fiery figures crouched. King Reven held his breath. The Blazen ranks leaped up like arrows, landing in a line on top of the walkway of the walls and advancing straight ahead. They dropped down into the fortress as easily as they had jumped upon the walls.

“We are overrun. They are coming—for me!” King Reven watched the lead unit of Blazen advance on his tower.

His page opened the door for his bride at that moment, and she stepped out onto the balcony. She frowned in concern at him. Reven turned to fully face her with a frozen smile on his lips.

His bride reached out to touch his cheek. “Dear?”

Reven flinched. “Our wedding is not of utmost importance right now.”

Her face fell. Reven sidestepped out of the way of her view and pointed. She gasped at the grim sight.

“You see?” Reven asked.

His bride slowly nodded. “I think, dear, no one will bat an eye at our particular misfortune.” She was as pale as death.

The Blazen had herded the remnant of their people into the square below the balcony. Now a Blaze ran forward and up the wall of the tower, climbing onto the balcony. He planted his feet. Flames licked up from his ash-hued skin, and his eyes shone like embers. The Blaze was half the height of Reven, but looking down on him still managed to make Reven feel small—smaller than ever.

The Blaze’s voice crackled out, “Did you think to escape, holing up in this fortress of stone? But, poor, poor prince, your flesh will burn just fine.”

There seemed to be little point in correcting the Blaze’s mistitling—less than ever. Reven swallowed, but his throat was dry. He stared at his fingers. They were clean and soft-skinned. They shook.

“I wanted an easy life,” he whispered.

The Blaze cackled, and heat washed over Reven.

“I—I have never seen guts,” Reven whispered.

The Blaze laughed louder. “Now you see ashes.”

Reven steadied his voice for his bride. “Dear, go to our people. Tell them—tell them the power is not just in royal blood! Tell them to beg for divine mercy. Tell them to”—Reven swallowed back bile—“tell them to rend.”

His bride trembled. “Everyone is afraid.”

“Of losing what?!”

“Not of losing—afraid of seeing. But I will go, and I will rend. After you.” She spun around and ran to descend the tower.

The Blaze watched in indifference. “There is no escape. Where is your power?”

Reven dropped to his knees. “Not on a leash.” He covered his tear-soaked face in his hands and shuddered.

The skin of Reven’s fingers turned crimson and hardened. He let them drop to his chest. Then he punched his digits through skin, muscle, and bone. Reven screamed as he tore into his chest and clawed apart his beating heart.

The Blaze took a step back in alarm. Reven pulled out his bloody fingers, and his hands fell slack to his sides. His eyes glazed over, but his teeth clenched.

The Blaze hesitated. “What are you?”

Reven dragged his teary gaze upward. “A mourner.” Blood pooled beneath his knees. “I see now—pain hurts!” His voice wobbled with sobs. “I see now—I hurt so many people! So, so, so very carelessly.” He fell forward. “I have rent my heart; from now on I am cursed—or blessed—to feel pain at every evil word or deed of mine. Please, spare us.”

The Blaze held out a hand of fire. “I am not interested in sparing filth.”

Reven raised his head. “I was not speaking to you.”

Blood flew up from the ground and engulfed the Blaze, putting out his flames. He sputtered, tripped backward, and the balcony rail broke behind him. He fell. Reven crawled forward and saw his gathered people. They wept on their knees. Then he saw his bride. She watched the dead Blaze crash into the ground. Then she met his gaze and saw the blood on his chest. Without waiting a moment more, she punched her fingers into her own. People around her did the same. Streams of blood flicked out from them, lashing out and drowning the Blazen. A terrible stench rose around them, but Reven breathed freely.

The Blazen were defeated, and clouds gathered above, washing them with a gentle rain. Reven still lay on the balcony with an aching heart. But he found he could smile—a more real smile than those before all the trouble.