The Crystal Knight

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Max Brandford continued to observe the dig site, trying hard to pretend that he didn't hear the blasts and the screams of the dying soldiers, just a few tens of meters away from him. He tried to stay focused on the mission. Tried to tell himself that he was working to save more people than those who would die today. That it was a necessary sacrifice.

It didn't help.

Max glanced in Mithryl's direction. He couldn't see his best friend because of their cloaks, but in his mind's eye, he envisioned Mithryl; fists clenched, teeth gritted, trying valiantly to ignore the jolting deaths he felt. Max could never know what it was like to feel and to do the things that Mithryl experienced. Most of the time, he was glad he didn't. But sometimes, a lot of times, he wished there was a way he could relive his friend's burden, if only for a short while.

It was in those brief moments of despair that Max was reminded of a day when the two of them were kids, maybe seven standard years old.

They'd been at Max's uncle's lata farm on Odonne. Mithryl, having no living relatives, was ostensibly a ward of the state, but spent most of his time in the company of the Brandfords, except for brief periods of time when he lived with a foster family, a survivor of his parents' unit, who lived in Clearvale.

The day was clear, Odonne's purple sun warm on the boys' backs. They were wandering among the lata fields, watching as farming units tended the crops. Max's uncle sold his crops at a premium. Few farms in the Four Galaxies actually bothered with field-grown crops anymore. Vat grown, engineered foods were cheaper and far easier to mass produce. Max's uncle sold his crop at a lucrative profit to high class restaurants.

At one point they stumbled upon a pia flitter, a small avian that had fallen prey to some mishap and lay, broken, on the ground. Small insects crawled over it. Max, having seen such sights on the farm a dozen times, passed by, unfazed. At length, he stopped, aware that his companion was no longer with him. Turning, he saw that Mithryl had stopped to regard the flitter. He was scratching his arms furiously, and looked sadder than Max had ever seen.

Perplexed, Max scampered back to the flitter. 'Whatcha doing?'

Mithryl didn't answer at first, just kept scratching. 'It burns.' He said, at last.

'I don't feel anything' Max said, feeling strangely uneasy, for reasons that would take him years to understand. Mithryl pointed at the flitter.

'It burns.' He repeated.

Max wrinkled his nose. 'It's dead, Mithryl. It can't feel anything. Dad told me so.'

Mithryl continued to point.

Then Max saw it. The flitter twitched. It wasn't dead.

It was being eaten alive.

And his friend could feel it.

It hadn't taken Max long to learn of his friend's unusual gift, though he had promised to tell no one (a promise he still kept). Mithryl had long since proven his abilties to young Max's satisfaction. He had no doubt of the suffering that his friend was experiencing, even at age seven.

Mithryl turned and ran from the flitter, as fast as his legs would take him. Max found him hunched in the shade of a tree, drying his eyes with the backs of his grubby hands. His face was streaked with dirt and tears. Normally this would have elicited at least mild teasing from Max. But not today. Not now. This was secret stuff. Serious stuff.

Max sat down next to his friend. For a long while no one spoke.

'Can't you turn it off?' Max asked the silence.