Two guards reached maliciously at Rose. She wiggled from their grips. Poofs continued to fill the air. Despite Q7’s order to “grab them,” most CGs continued to stab their glowing blades fruitlessly at the infiltrators. Their training taught them nothing else, and despite the commands to act otherwise, amidst chaos, the CGs innately relied upon their instincts. The two guards pursuing Rose, however, showed the flexibility to follow new orders. They remained in close pursuit as the girl weaved nimbly through the flummoxed ranks. Rose hoped to lose her pursuers in the increasing darkness – with every poof, the light dimmed.
A muscular hand snatched the girl on her shoulder and flung her to the ground. The hulking guards then plucked Rose by her curly hair. The girl stumbled to her feet and stared face to face with her captors. She said nothing as the two guards who chased her smiled with a malicious satisfaction.
“We have you, little girl,” sneered the guard with the muscular hands.
“Yes, you have me,” snapped Rose. “I have a question for you, where are you weapons? What happened to all your glowing blades?”
The guards stepped back, suddenly remembering the shock of their situation. The girl spoke cutting words; their weapons did just vanish into non-existence.
Talon looked for anything that glows. With each poof, he ran with more invigoration. He wondered why guards continued to swing their weapons at him. Despite the obvious futility, the guards continued jabbing at him with their glowing sabers. He realized, however, the company from the Crimson Guard divided into different sections. While this section looked in disarray, he saw another section remaining calm. Their plan was failing. Further, he heard their leader screaming to “grab them,” which he knew ended their chance for success. The dawn, he lamented, brings no hope.
Smack. Sudden pain flamed from Talon’s side. The curly-haired boy caught a glimpse of bulky guard smashing into his side. Thud. The guard landed on Talon as the sun-sculptor smashed upon the ground. Talon gasped for air; the collision left him breathless. Before even catching his wind, the bulky guard wrapped his arm around the much smaller boy’s neck and hoisted him into the air.
“I’ve got you,” grizzled the oversized guard.
Talon wiggled in the man’s grasp. The guard tossed him callously into the air. The disheveled youth flew up, and then awkwardly descended. Talon heard cracks as his body slammed on the ground. The guard grabbed the boy again and dangled him in the air. This time, Talon did not wiggle. His body hung limp in his captor’s hand.
I am sorry I could not do better, Dad, thought Talon as the guards dragged him along the road toward his Sub-Division Leader.
Even through the increasing darkness, Q7 saw the capture of two infiltrators: a surly teenage girl with olive skin and long curly black hair and a glazed-looking teenage boy who appeared a relation to the girl. Neither looked intimidating, yet, the two ordinary youths just attempted the most improbable of attacks – they charged, without weapons, a company of the Protectorate’s Crimson Guard. Q7 trailed the prisoners as their captors hauled them to their Sub-Division Leader, SD1.
Just as the guards reached SD1, Lupier’s preferred messenger arrived. The first section of guards, otherwise known as the expendables, was just beginning to reform their ranks. The confusion from the prisoner’s foray was almost restored – mostly because Q7 maintained the presence of mind to shift the guards’ attention from their dissipating weapons toward capturing the aggressors. The CGs, however, still struggled to reform the conventional three lines.
Just the captors reached SD1 and began to speak, the messenger burst onto the scene, “SD1, I have message for you.”
“Can it wait?” snapped SD1, obviously annoyed at the interruption. “I need to focus my efforts on restoring position and order to this section.”
“This message comes directly from your commander. It cannot wait.”
“Uh,” snarled a distracted SD1, “Very well.”
The messenger began, “Commander Lupier wants all glowing goods – that means everything – piled into one heap. The other section has already begun piling their glowing supplies. You need to move your glowing good to their pile. Do you understand?”
“Are you an idiot?” asked SD1. “Look around you, errand boy. Someone destroyed everything that glows. We have nothing left that glows. It is all gone.”
“Oh,” said the messenger, “the confirmation is ‘Lupier purple moons.’”
“Well, fancy that!” cracked SD1.
The CGs who captured the Sunsculptors continued to secure their prisoner, but given SD1 current demeanor, they lacked clarity in how to proceed. Finally, the shuffling youths caught his attention.
SD1 bellowed in an overtly annoyed tone, “Why are you bringing me children?”
“They are the ones responsible for attacking us,” droned one of the CGs.
“Ridiculous,” said SD1 dismissively.
As the guard spoke, the teetering order of the expendables tipped closer to chaos. With the elimination of almost all light sources, they instinctually migrated toward the only light source, the pile of glowing goods, and drifted toward the second section. With darkness enveloping them, their fears drove them toward the one thing that provided comfort – the hazy light of the other section.
SD1 almost ordered them to remain, but he feared them ignoring his order. Given the current predicament, he believed joining the other section – even if it just meant crowding around the one light source – was a tolerable outcome.
“Join the other section,” ordered SD1 to the guards who were already joining the other section. He trailed the guards as they quick-stepped toward the others.
The captors, still securing their prisoner, said nothing as SD1 shifted his complete attention toward directing his baffled section of guards. They said nothing as their fellow guards rushed past them toward the distant light source. “What should we do?” asked one captor to another. His compatriot shrugged and said nothing. “Should be try to talk to SD1 again?” The other guard, once again, just shrugged. “Should be stay here?” The shrugs continued unabated.
Upon seeing the captors’ confusion, Q7 reflected a moment before turning toward the stationary captors, who became increasing isolated from the other CGs rush toward the lighted middle section. Eagerly, he looked ahead and saw two CGs looking befuddled. Seeing their obvious confusion, a plan sprung into the mind of Q7. The faithful member of the Protectorate often thought of such plans, but because of loyalty, he never followed through with them. This night, however, was a different night than he could ever remember. Q7 remembered the radiant purple moons. He remembered the girl’s frantic scream, “I run for the two purple moons.” He remembered the cruelty of Commander Lupier. He remembered his children and adoring wife. Then, he made a bold choice. “Courage plumb,” that is what my grandfather said. At times in each life, a person faces a test of his fortitude. Will the person rise to the challenge and be found to have “courage plumb” or will the person cower in indecision and have “courage none.” The rational mind will try to find a balance between the extremes, but only because the mind betrays the lion heart.
“CGs,” demanded Q7 to the two stationary prisoner-toting guards who remained in their obvious indecision, “follow me. We need to bring these captives to Commander Lupier.”
“But …” one guard protested. The CG knew prisoners were never brought to the commander.
“Do you defy me?” cracked Q7. The two CGs immediately complied and trailed Q7 as he weaved and pushed his way through the amassing guards. Q7 knew the commander would re-locate to the light source – the heap of glowing weapons – so Q7 headed toward the light. The two captors followed. The two prisoners said nothing as the shuffled along next to the hulking CGs.
As Q7 moved closer to Commander Lupier, however, the guards compressed more tightly. They valued their position and resisted
relinquishing their ground. Q7 pushed, pressed, and squeezed, and finally, wedged himself through the densely amassed guards and guided the two prisoners and two helpers to Commander Lupier.
Commander Lupier stood in front of the piled weapons. No glowing goods remained, save the ones piles directly behind the commander. A soft hue emanated from the many “indestructible” weapons. The light cast dark shadows upon his face, which disguised his absolute disgust at the night’s events. He brewed over his decisions and their unintended outcomes. The commander longed for the village relocation to go smoothly, and then perhaps, his supervisors within the Protectorate might never discover his errors. The guards sensed Lupier’s frustration and cleared a small space in front of him. Even with the overwhelming desire to move closer to the only visible light source, no one wanted to be near the brooding commander.
After pushing his way through the crowded guards, Q7 finally reached Lupier. He stepped into the open space directly in front of the commander. The shadow-covered man looked up from his distant thoughts and queried the new arrivals, “What do you want?”
“Commander, I bring you two prisoners.” Q7 motioned to the two prisoners. The CGs pushed the prisoner forward, and then stepped back. Given the current situation, the prisoners could not escape, and accordingly, the CGs moved clear of the conversation between supervisors. Talon stood on one side of Q7 while Rose stood on the other. Both Sunsculptors looked small amidst the Crimson Guards. Their slumped shoulders matched their distance gazes. Their muddy faces and dirty clothes bespoke their dubious attempt to defeat an entire company on the Protectorate.
“Why are you bringing me prisoners?”
Upon hearing the voice, both Rose and Talon slowly looked up and stared face-to-face with Commander Lupier, the man who entered their workshop dozens of times during the last two years. They glared blankly at the man who initiated their journey many months ago. The tongue-tied siblings gaped at the commander – never did they expect to encounter the object of their fury.
Q7 answered the question, “I am bringing you two of the people responsible for destroying our glowing blades.”
Hearing this information, the commander finally looked upon the prisoners. Even with the shadows over his face, Q7 noticed a spark in Lupier’s eyes.
“Talon Sunsculptor and his putrid little sister, Rose,” remarked the commander. “So, we meet again.”
Lupier then directed his thoughts to Q7, “You captured two sun-sculptors. They probably made most the weapons piled behind me. Since they know how to make these things, I expect they know how to destroy them as well. They disappeared months ago. When we re-located their father, they vanished. Now look, here they are again. So tell me, how did they destroy the glowing blades?”
Q7 tried to hide a smirk, “Commander, they simply touched the weapons, and then the blades just disappeared.”
Commander Lupier fumed. In his anger, he added another mistake to his litany of mistakes. He screamed at Q7, “FOOL! WHY DID YOU BRING THEM HERE?”
Lupier’s response shot adrenaline into the defeated psyche of Rose and Talon. Neither immediately understood the reason for the man’s anger. Suddenly invigorated, thoughts raced through each of their minds trying to ascertain the reason for the commander’s angst. Why does Lupier not want us here? I need to do something, but what? Ideas flashed through their minds; both struggled to coalesce these flashes into a sensible thought – much less an action.
The crimson-clad commander then made his final mistake in a night filled with follies: He lunged toward Talon. With arm outs, Lupier flew through the air in effort to subdue the stocky, curly-haired youth. Just as the commander lurched toward her brother, Rose bolted toward Lupier’s previous position, his spot directly in front of the heaped glowing weapons. Rose sprung toward the piled weapons and reached out with her hand. As Lupier crashed into Talon, he could do nothing to stop the only Sunsculptor who actually posed a threat.
Rose touched the closest glowing blade: Poof! That weapon, and every over weapon in in the pile, instantaneously de-materialized into millions of light particles, and then, dissipated into nothingness.
Everything turned dark.
The only light source disappeared.
Even the night sky, with the two purple moons, offered no help. On any other night, at least the twinkle of stars might provide some relief to the blackness.
The moon-mist covered village offered not illumination.
The road to village #94 became absolutely devoid of light.
“Why did you do this, Q7?” whispered Lupier at the subordinate.
“A squad leader’s folly,” quipped Q7.
The guards said nothing; a frightening calm emerged from the group.
“Remain still,” commanded Lupier. They are terrified. If anything startles them, then this entire company will descend into pandemonium. I need everyone to stay calm. Curse me for mentioning the moonjackals .Curse the night sky for withholding even a sliver of light.
The guards complied. They stood motionless, frozen in fear, but thus far, remaining orderly.
Amber and Willow crouched in darkness. Once the light source disappeared, they clung tightly to each other. They remained hidden along the roadside, and now with the darkness, they no longer feared being detected by the Crimson Guard. Amber, still petrified, remained statuesque.
Now is the time, thought Willow. We have waited for this moment.
“Now,” whispered Willow to her younger companion. “Now.”
Willow sensed Amber’s head shaking from side to side.
“Yes,” answered Willow. “No one can see us. We are safe now. They do not even know we are here.”
Amber continued shaking her head.
“Scream,” said Willow.
Amber still shook her head.
“Just scream”
The nine-year old girl with a penchant for bold declarations channeled all her fears, passions, and intensity into the most terrifying scream ever heard: AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHH!
Willow followed with her own, but less electrifying effort: Ahhhh! Ahhhh!
Four screams pierced the emptiness.
The compressed guards shuffled aimlessly in the darkness. Those in the scarlet uniforms – save, perhaps, Lupier – each thought the same thought. The screams of the night’s first victims reminded them of their single greatest fear. The darkness released the creatures of the night.
“MOONJACKALS!” boomed a man’s voice through the darkness. The deep voice, however, did not belong to a member of the Protectorate. It belonged to an infiltrator – Gryph Cartog. Under the lightless guise, the guards could not discern the non-uniformed man who emerged from hiding and now stood in their midst. Gryph, remembering the concerns her heard earlier in the night, opted to stoke the fear-fire burning within the guards. His plan worked.
Pandemonium.
Chaos.
Disarray.
Bedlam.
Terror.
Anarchy.
Madness.
The guards scattered in every possible direction. Fear fueled their rampage, and entropy guided their paths. The women and men of the Crimson Guard fled in every possible direction, and in their lunacy, they raged until the morning sun calmed their trepidations.
28 the morning sun