Love and Death.
With the sun beginning to show its soft amber splendor, the village elder watches as the Guardian's jumpship lands nearby. His dark blue lips are pursued tightly and his brow is contorted with aggravation. As the spacecraft lands, he approaches, ready to share his frustration with his most trusted hunter and her Light-wielding companion. The pair appear from the vehicle and the sight of them instantly replaces the elder's anger with horror. "Wha- what- what happened?" Eyran stammers his speech as his menacing gait turns into a panicked scuttle. When he meets the bloody Guardian and the pale body in his arms, he immediately reaches out to hold her unmoving hand. The warmth of her palm blesses him with relief, but he is still struck almost speechless by the sight of her. "Please, Guardian, bring her to the community hall! I'll summon our surgeon to meet you." He brushes his hand over her messy hair and holds it gently against her temple. For the briefest moment, he seems frozen in time. He quickly collects himself and makes his way hastily toward the surgeon's home.
Klutz carries the woman carefully toward the large building in the center of the village.
Sunlight enters the hall as narrow beams shine through the angled slits in the roof. Bits of dust dance through the shafts of light and settle on the beautifully woven rugs hanging above.
His dark helmet stands next to him as the man weightily rests against a support beam near the entrance. He sits on the floor, his head laying heavily atop his crossed arms. Footsteps creak the old floor boards on the other end of the hall and he raises his head quickly to see who's there.
A visibly exhausted woman slowly crosses the hall. Moving toward the exit. In one hand she carries a large bag, adorned with a faded red cross. Under her other arm she holds a tightly rolled apron, dotted with splotches of red. She notices the man looking at her as she approaches the door. "You're the one who brought her back this way?" she asks dryly.
The man nods and looks away.
"Thank you for returning her to us." Her words are cold but genuine.
Klutz looks back at the surgeon with fearful hope in his eyes. "Will she be okay?" he asks directly.
"She won't pass from the blood loss, thanks to your donation."
"That nurse of yours wasn't exactly gentle with the needle," he says with an awkward half smile.
Ignoring the joke, she continues. "The blade only injured her skin and muscle for the most part. No major blood vessels nicked and no perforations to her organs. However, the weapon burned much of the tissue it passed through."
His half smile fades.
"This increases the risk of infection fairly significantly. We have medicine, but only time will tell what happens next."
"Is she awake? Can I talk to her?"
"No, she is sleeping now, but I'm sure she will be up later today. I recommend she rest for a few weeks, but knowing her, we'll be lucky if she sits still for even a few hours once she gains her strength."
Klutz stands up, leaving his helmet on the floor. "I can have my friend take a look at her to make sure everything's good." He holds out his palm and Spark appears hovering above his hand.
The doctor looks at the Ghost blankly for a moment. "You can have your machine give her a look over if you wish. I doubt it will tell you much more than we already know."
Spark looks at the woman, narrows her scarred shell and disappears.
Adjusting the apron under her arm, the surgeon turns to make her way to the exit. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some rest myself."
As the doctor leaves the hall through the large creaky door, Klutz leans back against the beam. "Things… could have gone worse, I guess." He says after a small silence.
Spark reappears in front of him. "Can you believe that lady? 'I doubt ITwill tell you much!' I'm a Ghost! My primary function is medical care… Well, medical care specific to one Guardian, but I know my stuff!" Her shell moves back and forth quickly. "Oh anyway, you are right about that. Things could have gone worse and we are lucky they didn't."
Klutz looks up at his Ghost uncomfortably.
"We had the jump on those Fallen. You should have struck their leader right away. I understand you were conflicted, but our safety, and the safety of this village, is your responsibility."
Klutz looks away and his shoulders sink.
"Hey, you aren't the only one at fault. I should have been quicker to heal you… If I was, I'm sure you would have been able to stop that Captain long before it got to Marin." Her shell opens wider as she continues. "Speaking of Marin, her behavior was all kinds of reckless! We agreed that she would only take shots at the fleeing Dregs. Oh well. I feel bad blaming her for anything after what happened…" Spark moves to meet the man's turned head. "I'm sorry if this isn't the best time to debrief."
"It's okay, Spark. I think we all learned something today." Just as he finishes his sentence, Klutz hears the floorboards creak again.
Spark looks over and then dematerializes.
Eyran walks into the hall from Marin's room. He looks as though he is carrying weight with every step. Eventually, he sits down on a short bench near the fire pit. He does not glance at the Guardian.
After a moment of internal debate, Klutz walks over and sits on the bench next to the silent elder.
For a time, no one says a word.
Surprisingly, Eyran is the first to break the silence. "The Fallen killed her mother." His words are sad but powerful. "I don't know the full story. Over the years she opened up about some details, but I know how difficult it is for her." He looks into the ashes.
Klutz turns his head to listen.
"It was a long time ago when I found her. Still a child. Alone and scared. This is a… common reality for people like us." He speaks with a rarely seen authenticity. "I brought her here and promised to keep her safe. I promised to watch over her and teach her how to survive in what's left of this cruel world. I felt her pain… I felt her pain because I was in her place, many years before."
"The Fallen… killed someone close to you too?"
Eyran does not look away from the ashes. "Ask that question of anyone you meet outside of your city and the answer is likely the same."
Klutz looks into the ashes as well.
"I didn't lose my family to the Fallen." He slowly turns to look at the Guardian. "I lost my family to one of your kind… I wish for you to understand. So please… listen to what I have to say."
The Guardian looks up, surprised.
With a stern but somber expression, Eyran clears his throat subtly and speaks. "A Light-weirder, a Warlord, whatever you wish to call them, it matters little. I was still a young man at the time. My mother and father decided to leave our home because they wished to 'return to the roots of humanity' or some such nonsense. They were both warriors, veterans of a war waged long ago. They had little fear of what they would find when they arrived. As I was nearly of age, they let me choose if I was to stay behind with my people or accompany them on their pilgrimage. Ha! What a choice…" He shakes his head of blue-grey hair slowly. "Shortly after we arrived on this planet, we were met by a man. He dressed himself head to toe in dirty, distressed armor, bearing the scars of many battles. He was accompanied by some group of lackeys, although they were ultimately unimportant. The man must have seen our ship land, because he was on us in only a matter of minutes. Without so much as an introduction, the man demanded our spacecraft and supplies as some sort of tribute. My father did his best to placate the men with pleasantries. My mother was more pragmatic, and drew her weapon. The moment she realized things were not going to end peacefully, she ordered me to return to the ship and fired a shot. Her aim was true, and the blast passed through the front of the leader's hideous helmet and exited out the other end. As he collapsed, my father drew and fired. I was already in the ship by the time they finished shooting. When I looked through the window all of the terrible men lay dead on the grass. My parents were untouched. I felt the most incredible feeling of relief and pride in my parents victory." Eyran's sad expression shifts to subtle rage. "I watched as a small machine appeared. It gracefully levitated above the Warlord's corpse and shined the most brilliant light on him. I'm sure you are familiar with what I'm describing?"
Klutz does not answer.
"I watched as the corpse raised itself and lunged for my mother. It stuck her so hard, her head turned the wrong way. My father fired shot after shot, but it was no use. The deadman covered himself in fire… and roasted my father alive." His voice starts to shake. "I could do nothing to stop it. All I could do was flee. I grasped the ship's controls and raised it from the ground. To my surprise and horror, the dead man leaped high enough to reach the ship mid escape. It pounded on the glass hard until it cracked under the force. I was clever enough to flip the craft upside down before it had the chance to set me ablaze. The walking corpse fell to the ground from a great height, although I'm sure its machine revived it shortly after."
Unsure if he should say something, unsure of what he would say, Klutz resigns to polite silence. He notices the storyteller's hand balled tightly.
"My vehicle was too damaged to return home and I knew nothing of repairs. I lacked the resources to do so anyway. Instead, I flew until our food was nearly exhausted. At home there was no game to hunt, so I never learned. Here, I had no choice. I met nomads, pilgrims, refugees. Some invited me to join them, I always declined. I'm sure you can understand why I had trouble trusting them. I did take the time to listen to their stories. All of them had faced some kind of tragedy. All of them had lost someone. Whether it was to the Fallen… or the Risen." His hands loosen. "After many years living this way, I happened upon a good group of people, making their way in the world like myself. My ship had broken down not long before so, untrusting as I was, I felt it necessary to find allies if I wished to survive. Eventually we followed the pilgrim's path toward the Traveler. A massive settlement had formed under its light, bustling with noise and hope. Among the inhabitants were many Lightbearers. I was made uneasy by their presence, but the settlers told me tales of the great deeds they had done, of the lives they had saved and the villains they had vanquished. Their words did little to calm me, but I thought staying there was my best chance… Less than a week later, I saw it." Anger spills from his mouth as he tries to stay composed. "The monster that stole my family from me. I was moving building supplies when I heard a shout. Quickly, I investigated and saw it, clad in the same horrible armor, standing with a group of young men. I was shocked because even after all these years, it looked just as it did in my nightmares. The fiend was teaching the men how to shoot. Barking directions and scolding those that made mistakes. I wanted to confront it straight away, but I knew there was no chance I could defend myself if attacked. Instead I swallowed my pride and reported it to the 'pseudo-leader' of our part of the village. He was a Lightbearer himself and he explained to me that 'Risen live long lives.'"
There is silence for a moment. Klutz, listening to the tale, is still unsure of the reason the Awoken is sharing his trauma. He feels sympathy for the man, but he feels something else as well. A cold suspense. An anxious, itching feeling that the reason this tale is truly being told is less about finding a better understanding and more about justifying prejudices.
"He asked me to forgive that monster's 'mistakes' and move on. The Awoken live long lives as well. I could not forgive, but I could move on. I gathered others who had been wronged by the Light, and left the fledgling city. We camped not too far away and decided to call it home. Not two months later, we were joined by a large group of disillusioned settlers, hoping to find a place in our young community. They told us news of the Warlord. Apparently it had gotten carried away during training and crippled one of the young men in their militia. Another threatened to expose the crime and was quickly killed for his honesty. Of course the other Risen in their camp heard of this soon after and confronted the monster. From what was relayed to me, the battle was sudden and uncontainable. Many died in the crossfire. A large tent, housing the sick and feeble, was struck by a stray bolt of lightning and lit ablaze. Not all we're able to escape. Eventually the Warlord was defeated. Its Ghost crushed under the victor's boot. His death did not revive the ones he killed. It did not console those that died in the showdown… It did not bring me peace. This was enough for many to understand the truth I learned so many years before." He stands up and looks down at Klutz. "You so-called 'Guardians' bring nothing but pain and death to anyone in your path. The Traveler did not raise you as protectors. It raised you as weapons. The world of us 'Lightless' is separate from yours. So point yourself at the Fallen or whatever other horrors you find and leave us be." As soon as the biting words leave his mouth, he turns away and walks into a room at the back of the hall.
Klutz sits without a word and looks into the ashes.
Spark appears. Silently, she hovers near the man's shoulder and looks at him with concern.
After a few moments, the man stands from the bench and moves toward the exit.
"Don't you want to check on Marin before we leave?" the little light asks softly.
"The doctor will take care of her. I should get started on my report to Osiris, anyway." He picks his helmet off the floor and leaves.