Inky's Collection of Shorts

My Ray of Light

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey

***

"Come on!" she shouted, waving her hand above her head towards him. Her grin stretched from one side of her face to the other, filled with unbridled glee. "You're going to make us late. I wanna see the king!"

He rolled his eyes but picked up his pace. The trodden road was uneven, having been made by nothing more than the constant wear of feet that had come before his. It was easy to roll an ankle if one wasn't being careful. He'd done so plenty of times before he'd learned his lesson.

"I heard he's visiting a couple places," she mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as he fell into step beside her. Her gaze was focused on the ground before her, no doubt also doing her best not to end up with an injury. "I never thought he'd come here."

"Because this place is constantly forgotten?"

"Because we're so far away, duh," she said, punching his shoulder. "It'll take a long time for the procession to get back to the castle." Her face lit up as a better thought crossed her mind. "D'you reckon he'll see us?"

"We're not of age yet," he reminded her. "We can't be enlisted."

"But don't you want to be? To fight for our kingdom? For the honor and pride?"

She waved an imaginary sword above her head before pointing it right at his chest. He raised a brow. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"I don't think you'd be able to lift a sword," he said appraisingly.

"Spoilsport," she said with a dramatic shake of her head. "I'll get a lighter sword, then."

He was fairly certain those didn't exist — the swords he'd seen the blacksmith polishing were all so heavy that they etched grooves into the ground when they dropped — but she looked so determined with her plan that he couldn't find it in him to argue.

They reached the back end of the crowd that had begun to gather. The king was seated in a carriage, his gaze slicing over the growing audience before him. He could see the detachment in the man's gaze, the calculating way that he scanned the bodies of each person. Injured. Lanky. Doe-eyed.

That analyzing gaze fell on the two of them, standing to the side, and he paused. Fit.

"He sees us!" she said excitedly. He nodded, although he was sure he'd be doing so even if he didn't want to with the way she was shaking him.

I don't think you want him to see you, he thought, but he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he watched as the king raised his hand in greeting, his gaze still trained on them, as the carriage began to pull away.

***

The walls were bare, made for nothing more than as a place to keep them for the time being. There were blast marks on the walls, where the stone had darkened and soot fell to the ground when touched, from fire powder of the past.

She was seated on the hard floor next to the the marks, tightening the straps on her armor. Her sword, still in its sheath, was positioned neatly beside to her. She glanced up as he approached and smiled. "There you are. I thought you weren't going to show up."

"Your faith in me is touching," he muttered, reaching out to help her with the straps. His fingers flitted over the leather, tightening each piece properly.

She merely laughed. "What, not a coward? I'm impressed."

Her banter was light. It came easy in the face of the battle that was about to come, where the very real possibility of death stalked them wherever they went. He stared at her, at the smile on her face, the sparkle in her eyes. Her confidence was almost overwhelming.

He smiled slightly. She focused on his face and grinned at the sight, reaching out a finger to poke his cheek. "There it is," she said, her voice softening.

"What? My disregard of the imminent doom before me?"

"No, idiot," she said. "I love your smile. Smile more! Then maybe you won't get so many white hairs."

He pushed her hand, which was still consistently prodding at him, away from his face with a huff of a laugh. "Whatever you say."

***

The sun beat down against his bare skin. He wiped away the sweat on his brow and exhaled, listening to the sound of his heart as it struggled to deliver adequate amounts of blood to his body. Small cuts littered his form, with bruises where more blunt weapons had found their mark.

Next to him, she lay sprawled on the grass, her limbs akimbo. Her eyes were open, her mouth a slash across her face as she stared up at the blue sky far above. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The weather was too warm for them to form, as so they simply fled, leaving the rest of them to suffer beneath the sun's brutal rays.

"The war should be ending soon," she remarked. "At least, that's if the general's plan works." Her gaze shifted over at him. "Are you ready?"

He nodded. There wasn't really much to prepare for anymore. They'd trained for hours and hours, both against each other and with other soldiers. Among their ranks, rumors leapt from person to person of the duo that formed a sword able to cut down anything in its path. The god of strength had found himself a match.

But the greater preparation came mentally. The last confrontation was bound to be unforgiving. The other side was becoming desperate in the measures they took, and he would have to be a fool not to acknowledge that.

He cast a side-long look over at her. They were both used to staring death right in the eyes, and they'd made that preparation a long time ago, back when the king enlisted them way out in that forgotten part of his kingdom.

It was easy for him. He would place down his life a thousand times over to protect her.

"May the gods find us in battle," she murmured. She sat up and smiled at him. "Come on. Let's get going."

***

He felt her fall.

It was impossible to be by her side constantly, so he didn't try. Instead, he focused on the opposing soldiers directly in front of him, his sword flashing as it sunk its teeth into his adversaries. She would be fine, he knew, because she was just as skilled as — if not better than — he was. The still-recovering wounds along his upper arms were a testament to that.

The ground seemed to be hugging onto his shoes as he ran towards her, doing its best to hold him back. He could see her in the distance, laying with her back to him, her sword discarded by her side. No one seemed to be paying attention to the wounded figure in their midst. There was no reason to, if that person was no longer a risk.

He tossed his own sword aside and knelt down beside her, instantly beginning to tear his shirt into strips to stem the blood flow. She let out a cough that rattled her entire body and focused on him with difficulty. "You're here," she whispered.

"I told you I'd be, didn't I?" he said, his hands working steadily.

She laughed. He winced at the way it made the red stain his hands faster. "Thank... the gods."

The gods.

He gripped her hand tightly. Goddess of Death, don't take her from me. She loves you. She loves all of you. She doesn't deserve to die yet.

The pulse beneath his fingertips slowed, planted one final kiss against his skin, before fading away completely. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes, and hugged her body close to his.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't leave me."

But the Goddess of Death had not responded to his prayers, nor did the other gods. The battle that raged on around them pulled back, leaving him there with his final memory of her.

***

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.