Cheryl's Fiction

The Sun Child (Fantasy)

By Cheryl Alldredge (writing as C. Furrow)

Golden ringlets danced around the child's head as she stood amidst a colorful array of bobbing balloons and crepe-paper garlands. Like pale gray clouds hovering in front of the sun, the weakly hued irises of her eyes did nothing to hide the dazzling energy within her. On chubby legs she danced across the wooden floors, chasing fairies as they flitted among the dust motes adrift in the sunshine of a nearby window. With an uproarious giggle she toppled, landing unceremoniously on her well-padded bottom.

The shrill notes of her laughter bounced against every surface of the room, finding their way even to the darkened corners where the shadower hid. Little more than a vapory hint of his former self, he pressed tight against the wall, crouched low to the floor at the edge of a dark patch. For a moment he considered making a prayer of thanks for the shadow that owed its existence to the high back of a well-worn rocker, its slats draped in a cotton quilt that reeked of the sweet smell of median-dwellers. No. Even had he belief enough left to pray, now was not the time. There was little to be thankful for and he stood too close to folly to be grateful.

To him, the child was an irresistible temptation. Just as the median-dwellers could not safely look upon the brilliant white of their own sun, he could not look upon her without risking the loss of his fraying control.

Once he'd been a Shadow Guardian, charged with protecting those of her kind from the dwellers of the shadow realm. Now his own weakening control and his failing belief in The Way had brought him to this—lurking in corners, waiting to fade into nothing. Stripped of the weapons of his trade, he could defend no one.

Gone too was the medallion that would allow him to cross to the child freely—by his own will. Without it, he could only cross if she made it happen with her child-eyes. The young could often see across realms and this child, with her dazzling energy, would surely be more adept than most.

He should leave before that dangerous chance be realized. Return to the thin trail of smoky nothing he had been dwelling as before her laughter called to him. That would be the wiser course. It had not been such a long while since he played wise and yet he was no longer content to fade away—the fate of all his kind. He wanted to live awhile longer. To bask in her warmth.

In the distance, feminine voices competed to rise above the sound of frolicking children. More of the tiny temptations approached. He gave breath to a brittle laugh that, despite his weakened state, must have echoed across the realm barrier. The child's tiny head pivoted, setting the curls to dancing once again. Her morning mist eyes sharpened, fixing on his face. It was the lack of fear in those eyes that did him in. A man could only resist so much temptation.

As her cheeks dimpled he felt himself grow more present in her realm. The moment he felt wholly there he straightened and strode across the room, swooping the child into his arms. Before she could loose a cry that might alert the adults nearby, he pressed her tiny face against his chest and moved quickly through the room and away from the sound of the voices.

The first gap in the cream painted walls led to a corridor full of doorways. He’d visited this house before and knew which door he wanted. Even though it sat farthest down the hallway, he chose the one that led to the pink room with the mint curtains, hoping her own room would help reassure the child. He went straight for the window, snatching the mint gingham toward the center. Still, far too much light for his purpose. He slipped his hand between the rectangles of cloth and brushed his palm down the thin strips of vinyl. Finally, the room darkened.

An incomprehensible coo of jumbled syllables drew his attention to the child. Busy with the window, he’d loosened his hold on the girl. She smelled of baby powder and stared up at him with eyes that seemed to glow silver in the shadowed room. The call of a woman’s voice snatched away the child’s attention. Unreasoning anger boiled through him. So long as he stayed in the mid-realm, she could be taken from him. He stepped into the closet and closed the door tightly, stealing away all the light that tied them to the child’s realm. Her whimper of fear reassured him. In the utter darkness, surely his will would be strong enough to fool the child into following the lure of the weak-tea light of the shadow realm.

“The dark is a fearsome thing isn’t it little one? All manner of nasties hide in the dark,” he whispered. “Do you see the light? Waiting just beyond seeing?”

Slowly, the light grew in his peripheral vision as the child gave into the temptation to carry them across the realm-barrier, toward the only light left to her.

The instant their two forms came fully into the shadow realm he whistled for the shadow mare. He stood utterly still in fear of the child snatching them back to her realm unexpectedly. If that were to happen, he wanted to return within the closet as they’d left.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a clever girl, you are.”

The clip-clop-clop-clop of the mare’s arrival captured the child’s attention. She stretched her tiny arms toward the oversized beast and he knew the immediate danger of return was past. He mounted the mare, snuggling the child’s small form beneath his cloak.

“Cole Vismorth!” The thundering shout of his name brought him up short and a chorus of whispers chimed in as a circle of Guardians formed around him.

“Vismorth.”

No. They could not be here. Not so fast.

“Cole, lost brother of the Shadow Guardians, what has happened here?”

The familiar timbre of Grey Drakfall’s voice focused his attention on one tall figure. They were of an age. Had taken the Oath of Brotherhood together. Yet Grey still wore the medallion. Still carried his sword, while Cole had lost his way.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, my friend. We all must fade in the end. One can not walk as a Shadow Guardian forever.”

Cole had not spoken aloud. The man, he realized, was in his mind. A message-vision, as were they all. Of course, they could not be there so soon. Could not reach him so quickly now that he no longer wore the medallion.

“Go away, Guardians. This is none of your concern.”

“Cole, my brother, let us help you.” The others echoed Grey’s words.

“I am no longer your brother. The elders decided it was my time to fade. Do you not remember?”

“I remember.” Empathy laced through Grey’s voice. He must know his time to fade could not be far into the future. “We can help you get the mid-realmer back across the barrier,” he continued. “We can help you in this task, Cole.”

The child wiggled in his arms, but he kept her snuggled into the darkness of his cloak. With her help Cole could regain his strength. She had energy enough to share. Had called to him. She could save him. He would not return her. Nor would he let her take them back across the barrier. Not yet.

He felt the wave of shock spread through each mind that touched his. How could he have forgotten they were still in his mind? He put every ounce of what will he had left toward blocking them from his thoughts. Fisting his hands in the black silk of the mare’s mane, he dug his heels in and rushed her to a gallop. As the horse darted forward, the mind vision of the Guardians crumbled.

Without the medallion they would have difficulty tracking him. Perhaps he could elude them long enough to regain his strength. He had been a Shadow Guardian. He knew every nuance of the realm barrier. He must get to a safer place with all haste—a place where the barrier could not be so easily crossed.

~~~

An hour’s hard ride, deep in the black forest, Cole welcomed the sight of the home of Onyx, the night hag. The stone dwelling stood in a small clearing—the trees nearest twisted and bent away as if they feared the creature inside. Even snuggled against the warmth of his chest, the mid-realm child shook as he dismounted. He’d done some hard thinking in the last hour. They needed shelter and Onyx was the only answer. The only safe place to hide. She held no allegiance to the brotherhood of the Shadow Guardians and the child could give her something she wanted. Pushing aside any doubt, he slapped the mare on the flanks, sending it away. He wanted Onyx’s full attention and the exhausted beast would be a great temptation to any hag. As he strode to her doorstep, the door swung wide.

“Cole?”

His name slipped through the hag’s lips like a curse.

“Onyx, my beauty, so good to look on your lovely form again.”

Her frown at his words deepened the already cavernous grooves that lined her brow and framed her eyes. The hag’s figure remained slender and lithe. Her black, silk hair showed no signs of dulling. But the cold, pain, and denial of the shadows had left their marks on her milk white skin.

“I thought you’d faded to nothing,” she said.

Her look told him she’d not been bothered by that possibility.

“Not yet, my pretty. Won’t you let me in?” He flexed his tired shoulders, allowing his coat to fall open.

Her gaze fell from his face to the child’s golden head, then returned, wide with panic. “What fool thing have you done?” she demanded.

“I bring a glorious gift,” he said.

She looked again at the child. “I have had my supper,” she spat. “Take your spoils elsewhere.”

He slammed one hand against the door before she could shove it closed in his face.

“Let me in, woman.”

The child’s teeth choose that moment to start to chattering, as if driving home their need for shelter. The hag’s eyes darkened.

“My hearth will not warm what should not be here.”

Cole went straight for her weakness. “She can make you more beautiful with only a glance.”

Her eyes shut and she shuddered. “Were such a thing true—“

“It is true, Onyx. I would not lie to you in this….I swear it on the shadow of my glory.”

Her eyes shot open and went wide. She stepped back and held the door open.

He didn’t hesitate. He strode to the dim light of the fire. Dropping to his knees before the hearth, he shucked free of his coat, keeping one arm around the child all the while. As the leathery material slid to the floor, forming a heap around him, he stroked the child’s head. The chattering of her tiny teeth had become a constant thing and the heat of the fire seemed no help at all. The rosiness that had graced the curve of her cheeks had been replaced by a faint blue tinge.

“Give me the child!” Onyx’s shriek drew his attention back to the hag. She stood near his elbow, her hands extended and waiting.

“I must warm her first.”

“Fool. I told you before it will not warm her. Give her to me. Let me know her gaze before my chance is lost.”

“Be patient. Warm and strong with the heat of the hearth the child will gaze upon you for hours and you will grow more beautiful every moment, but first the warmth.”

Onyx stamped her foot on the rough stone floor. “Do you never listen? My fire cannot warm her. She’ll not live to count the next hour, let alone the hours you promise.”

Cole tipped the child back across his arm, looking at her face fully for the first time since she’d brought them across the barrier. Onyx sighed, melting to her knees beside him as the child’s gaze caressed her, but he cared only for the terrifying site of the child’s lips, now gone blue as a Dire Moth’s wing.

“No,” he muttered. “No!” He reached out and clutched at the hag’s arm, drawing her face close to his. “What vile magic have you wrought?”

She looked back at him from a face grown more fetching than mere moments before. The lines, not so deep. Her expression smiling and sickeningly happy.

“I’ve done nothing. You cannot bring a creature of the mid-realms here and expect them to live. You know this as well as I. Why do you fret so?”

“No, no….” He pushed to his feet and began to pace the stone width of the room. Her words were true. Why had he believed the sun child different? Why had he thought the sun glowing brightly behind her frail human flesh would save her?

No. Onyx was wrong. The child held great reserves of energy. She would live and warm him. Give him the strength to be her guardian. He would return her to her realm in time. He just needed a little more time.

“Cole?”

He rounded on the vile hag with all his wrath. “You! You did this. I will not allow it. Had I the time, I would see you pay the price for your evil now. Be sure I’ll return to do the job when the child is safe.”

He pressed the tiny girl to his chest beneath his cloak and left the hag’s dwelling, wandering into the forest blindly—not knowing where he would go. He’d pinned all his hopes on Onyx. Now, what would he do? Where could they hide?

Each step into the forest took them deeper into darkness. The air felt wet, dripping with seawater. All around them deep, low bellowing songs competed with the eerie howls of the loups-garous. The child began to cry, adding her small voice to the disturbing mixture.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly. “You do not want the garous to come for us. The brothers took my sword. I’ve nothing to protect you with. No, we do not want the garous on us.”

Were the howls getting closer? He pressed forward, dread making each step a staggering effort. Certainty came over him gradually, as all sound died away. Gleaming red eyes decorated the darkness like a string of lanterns hung between the trees. He turned a slow circle, knowing the effort of looking for an opening would be futile. The garous had them surrounded.

Running would be equally pointless. It would only enflame the garous’ hunting instincts. He looked down at the child.

“I will not simply give up. I promise you that, sun child.”

His promise meant nothing. What could he do? He had nothing with which to fight. Yet, he could not bear to fail her.

Cole’s attention fixed on a shape emerging from the shadows. The creature walked forward on four legs, then stretched up, lifting its fore paws off the ground to stand in a shape that vaguely resembled a hunched man.

“Bare your throat for me, shadower, and I’ll make sure you are dead before we begin to feast on you.” The garous’ words were garbled as they slipped between a mouthful of lethal teeth, liberally dripping with saliva.

“I would have thought you’d prefer me to run,” replied Cole.

“Grah, grah, grah,” the leader of the pack laughed in his growling guffaw while the others kept quiet in the shadows. “You are wise, shadower. It is true. Meat is better with the sweet smell of fear and the rich thrill of the chase to go before.”

“Then why do you ask for my throat?”

“You didn’t run. You didn’t fight.” He shrugged his shaggy shoulders. “Some stags need scarin’ afore they’ll move.”

Though their interest seemed fixed on him, Cole knew better than to think they hadn’t noticed the child. Even if they’d been drawn by his movement or his voice, rather than her warmth, they would have smelled her when they drew near.

“If I give you a good chase, will you let the child live?”

“Grah, grah, grah,” the leader laughed again. This time the pack snickered along with him.

Cole’s jaw clenched with helpless fury. He could feel the child sobbing and shivering against his chest. A cold, wet stain spread there from her tears.

Resolve poured into him.

He reached down and pulled the mid-realm baby girl from his coat and lifted her high in the air. With the girl balanced on his palms high above his head, he did something he hadn’t done in recent memory.

He prayed.

As he’d hoped, the temptation of the child, so exposed and held out like an offering, ignited the loups garous’ hunger. In the shadows, he heard their snickering turn to low, hungry growls, yapping and snipping; a few burst into full howl.

The leader tried to quiet them, but Cole heard jaws snapping in the darkness as they began to test the pecking order. None wanted to miss out on the rare feast she represented, but her small body would not feed them all and they knew it. A loud yelp sounded and the fighting began in earnest. He stood in the center and kept up his prayer. Hoping…praying…the noise would grow loud enough to travel across the forest.

He felt the ground beneath his feet shudder; then the tug of a skeletal hand wrapped around his ankle. He should have known the warmth of her mid-realm soul would draw the dead from the forest floor. Cole wrenched his foot free and brought the heel of his boot down hard. Satisfaction flickered through him at the sound of bones crushing.

Still he prayed. Called on the Gods to send aid. To send his brethren—the Shadow Guardians.

The din grew louder; the fighting closer. A furred body tumbled into the clearing, landing at his feet. He kicked it with all his might. Not to harm. Simply to move it away. To keep the fighting at arm’s length.

His arms grew weak and trembled. Still he prayed.

~~~

Grey was crouched in the mud examining his quarry’s tracks when a chill wind brought him the distant sounds of the pack. He’d barely stood and headed into the wind at a light jog when it changed direction to push at his back and hurry him forward. The soaked ground that had sucked at his boots every step he’d taken that day firmed beneath his feet and the thorny brush that dotted the forest floor seemed to bend and stretch away, clearing a path. With a prayer of thanks to the God and Goddess of the hunt, Grey quickened his pace, running full out.

The snarls and yelps of the loups garous grew, raising the fine hairs along his neck, but it was the swell of whale song echoing through the dampness that finally shook his calm. He willed himself to mist and rode the wind. With its speed to carry him, he arrived in mere moments. The air currents abruptly abandoned him at the edge of a clearing. He hovered along the muddy ground noting an embattled pair of garous as they tumbled through his vapory form. All around him they fought. Some fought their brothers. Others fought the skeletal forms of the dead rising up from their unconsecrated graves. So many had died in the forest—they were surging to the surface everywhere.

The sight of Cole standing at the center of the clearing both surprised and amazed him. Maybe they’d been mistaken in interpreting the thoughts they’d lifted from his troubled mind. Maybe the elders were wrong to cast him out. It would take a strong will to go on so long alone in his weakened state. He’d not only survived, here he stood, still doing the guardians’ work—protecting a child of the mid-realm. Granted, his stance, holding the child out above the garous like an offering, looked bad, but Grey could easily see why he’d done it. The distraction he’d created wouldn’t last long, but what other choice did the man have, weak and stripped of his weapons. Cole’s arms had already begun to shake and the child lay limp upon his palms. It was already too late to save the child, but Grey had no choice, no desire, but to aid Cole and his small charge.

He took a moment to pull himself together in the solid form of a man, then called his sword to his hand. He called for Sun Bringer—a blade crafted in the realm of light, it never failed to bring low the denizens of the shadows. The sword appeared in his hand in a flare of warm, brilliant, light. That alone served to send the dead digging back to their wormy rest.

The loups garous were not so easily cowed. Grey stepped into a snarling mass of teeth and claws and swung the blade in a wide, well aimed arc. Blood as thick and black as the mud at his feet sprayed across his chest and two of the garous went down. Grey caught the leader’s eye and shoved Sun Bringer into the heart of the nearest member of the pack. The leader snarled and spat, then turned into the forest and disappeared. The pack followed close on his heels.

Grey strode into the clearing as Cole collapsed to his knees and pulled the child against his chest. Crouching in front of the former Guardian, Grey waited for him to speak. The man’s whole body shook and his breathing was labored. How long had he been forced to hold the loups garous at bay? Eventually, he lifted his eyes from the child to look Grey full in the face.

“Thank you for coming. I don’t know how much longer we could have lasted.”

Grey rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder, surprised when he flinched at the touch. “You did well, Vismorth.”

Cole shook his head and smiled grimly, his lips pressed into thin lines of gray flesh. “It is good to see the vile things flee in the presence of a Shadow Guardian. Good to know the brotherhood remains strong. You’re an excellent swordsman, my brother, but you should have more care when fighting the garous.”

Grey followed Cole’s gaze down his arm, still stretched forward to clasp Cole’s shoulder. A crimson slash ran along the length of his forearm.

“It is only a scratch and my will remains strong. I won’t be howling at the moon anytime soon.”

“That is good. Very good. I fear I would not be so lucky.”

With that Cole shifted his shoulder, pulling away from Grey’s touch and showing the deep red stain beneath his arm. Grey saw meaty sinew and a flash of rib bone beneath the scraps of torn shirt.

“Damn.” Grey said a silent prayer for the old Guardian’s soul.

“You must put an end to me and save the child. You must return her to her own realm.”

Grey shook his head. “No. It is you that has the better chance at survival here, I’m afraid. You did well to protect her, but she won’t live to see her realm.”

“No! You must save her. I…”

Grey held his tongue as Cole rocked the child in his arms.

“Look,” Cole said, moving the girl to the crook of his arm. “Look at her. Can’t you see she must be saved?”

Grey looked. The shadows in his soul seemed to expand as he noted the blue-black tinge of her lips and the dark crescents beneath her eyes. Her flesh had gone pale as the bleached bones of the dead.

“She’s lost to the shadows,” he said, but his voice cracked on the words.

“She’ll recover if you return her to her realm. She’ll regain her strength there.”

“Unless this little child can breathe beneath the waves of her realm, she is lost, my brother. I could never get her to safety in time.”

“The sea, the sea,” Cole muttered, still rocking.

“You must tell me what happened. Why bring her here?” Travel from realm to realm was almost impossible in the dark forest. In her realm, the forest lay at the bottom of an ocean. They were deep within the forest. More than an hour’s hard ride from any safe passage.

“I never should have taken her,” Cole whispered. “I never meant her any harm. I thought she could save me, but now you must save her.”

“Save you!” Grey shot to his feet. “You thought the child could save you?”

“I didn’t mean to harm her…just wanted…”

So the man had taken the child. Grey felt his heart go cold and hard. He drew Sun Bringer and turned it in his grip for a downward thrust. When Cole Vismorth looked up into his face, Grey knew the man saw his own death written in his features. He showed no fear. The man was ready to be relieved of the burden of a life turned rotten in the end. The man had destroyed the very thing he’d sworn to protect.

“Save her,” Cole said. His last words. He lowered the child to the ground.

With one strong thrust, Grey shoved Sun Bringer through the man’s heart.

He sheathed the sword and lifted the child into his arms.

“I’m sorry, little one.”

At the sound of his voice the baby girl opened her eyes. They were as pale as the rest of her, but he thought he saw some light still behind them.

She opened her little lips and spoke toddler gibberish. It sounded like bird song to Grey’s ears.

“Do you hear the whales singing to you, little one?” They sang her death knell, but at least something of her realm would accompany her into death.

Grey looked deeper into the child’s eyes. He saw what Cole had no doubt seen. What the whales sensed, even across the barrier. The child was extraordinary. Grey began to walk, pacing pointlessly toward the forest’s edge. There was no escaping death for her. He knew it, but he couldn’t slow his steps. A chubby hand fisted around the cloth of his shirt.

“Curse you, Vismorth. How could you do such a vile thing as this?”

Grey broke into a jog, then a run. Wasted energy, but still he ran.

Would it be kinder to slip her across the barrier, even to a watery death? At least she would die in her own realm.

No. He could not let her die.

He slowed his pace to a standstill, dropping to his knees on the forest floor. How long had he run?

He looked down into her face again. Her eyes had closed and her hand hung limp. Her chest rarely rose or fell. Death would claim her in another moment. No. He would not let her die. He took his dagger from his belt and carefully drew it across his skin.

Grey held his bloodied wrist above the child’s face and allowed his shadowed blood to spill in crimson drops on her lips. It was a vile thing to do, to sully her so, but he could think of nothing else to save her. His blood would give her some protection from the unnatural cold of the shadows, but at what cost? Only time would tell. When she didn’t respond, Grey used a finger to push the blood into her mouth, then stroked her throat until she swallowed. He repeated the process until he saw a hint of color return to her cheeks.

He should have let her die, he thought. If you have to corrupt something to save it, is it really saved? Did this make him as lost as Cole?

~~~

Grey crouched deep in the shadows beneath a thick old oak tree. A pleasant breeze rustled through the branches of the old lady, carrying the scent of gardenias from the neighbor’s garden. The child in his arms yawned and stretched.

“It was a long journey back, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

She cooed and gurgled and touched his chin. Cole knew he couldn’t linger long. Police cars lined the street and voices filled the house.

“You’re home, little one,” he said. “You’re home.”

She clapped her hands and laughed. A gentle warmth radiated up through the pink hues of her plump cheeks … and strips of silver and jet-black shadows streaked through her once golden hair as she smiled and watched him from storm cloud eyes. Eyes that could no longer see the light-realm fairies that danced in the nearby clover.

~~ The End ~~

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