Macë Hymn

"You know that's outlawed, don't you?" said Ray

"We know, you fool. Now, are you gonna squeal on us, or are you going to join us?" said Trevor

Ray relaxed. He finished his last shift patrolling the main city and wanted to see what the others were doing. They all sat in a circle on the dusty castle floor. It shouldn't have surprised him that they weren't being productive.

"Sit down with us, Ray. You're always so tense. You should have some of this with us." said John, the Bedazzled guardian.

Ray shifted in his plated armor, looking left and right. He was making sure that the chief wasn't around. Ray was about to give them an earful when he noticed Shayla, the Diamond, sitting in the circle.

"It is not my thing." Ray said. He couldn't explain to himself why he was letting them get away with it. It was against the law and they were Royal Gaurdians. It was their job to prevent crime and uphold order in the city. Still, he could not bring himself to scold her.

Shayla bobbed her head back and forth with her eyes shut. She was listening to something. Trevor tapped her on the shoulder. She opened her eyes and Ray realized that she hadn't noticed him until now. Shayla held her finger next to her ear, and a thunderbolt leapt out. It jumped out of her ear and onto her finger, crackling and fizzing around it.

"Did we get caught?" said Shayla

"No, it's fine." Ray said. "I won't tell anyone about the spark."

"Good," said Trevor.

Shayla took the spark in her hand and clenched her fist. It vanished. Ray wondered what it was about the spark that made her move to a rhythm.

The next day, Ray was surprised enough to find that the three of them were doing it again. They sat in the same circle in the same basement of the castle. He felt like he was being defied now. It was unacceptable.

"What don't you get," said Ray, "You could be thrown away for this. It isn't worth it."

"It is." said Shayla as she stood up from the circle. "You don't get it. You haven't heard anything yet."

There was that feeling again. Something like fear, but not quite. It was like a pit in his throat, an absence of thought and strength. It was like she had something that he did not. He hated this weakness that crept about him like snakes, one that only appeared when Shayla was near. Again, he could not bring himself to scold her. He turned around. They made an accomplished noise behind him as he left.

The setting sun gave the sky over the marketplace an orange tinge. The market grew on the road from the castle and extended all the way through the main city. Ray was not on guard. In fact, he was heading home. He had a scowl that would not go away. He was thinking about the other knights and how they disregarded the law and order they were meant to uphold.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a young boy sneaking around one of the fruit shops. The owner did not seem to notice him. He was picking oranges and apples from the pile while the fruit vendor's back was turned. Ray shoved his way through the crowd to reach the boy who did not see Ray until he was being held up by the arm.

"Give it back, boy! You don't want to be thrown away, do you?"

Ray noticed now that the boy's clothes were tattered and his face was filthy with smudges. He saw that the boy's eyes were colored yellow and had dark slits in their center instead of circular pupils. The boy was Macë, the cat-like people of the southern city. Nothing was more common than Macë thieves, and for good reason. They were segregated into the south and forced into poverty. History had not been kind to them.

"I was going to give him the fruit," said the vendor, in an effort to calm Ray. But the boy had taken so much food. Why was that alright? Had everyone forgotten the law?

A tomato splashed against Ray's face, blurring his vision. He dropped the Macë boy and held his hands up to protect himself against the barrage of fruits and vegetables. The sound of a knight's blade being drawn from its scabbard placated the crowd. They were almost fully disbanded when Ray got the stinging tomato juices out of his eyes and peered behind them.

Shayla stood in front of him with her sword drawn. Ray saw the boy running with a dozen pieces of fruit and was about to run after him, but Shayla held her sword to his chest plate.

"Let the boy go." she said.

She went too far. Drawing a weapon on another Guardian was punishable by death. Ray swung his sword up from its sheath, and against Shayla's. They both pushed their blades against the other in a fit of strength. Shayla eased on the pressure and Ray let up after. She sheathed her sword and turned away from him.

"Follow me," she said.

The walk was long and silent. He was able to suppress it earlier, but those snakes crept back while he followed her. They arrived at a small villa on the edge of town, away from the city. Before long they were in her quarters. Ray didn't know what Shayla could have been thinking.

"I don't know what this is but --" Ray started.

Shayla held her palms a few inches from each other and a thunder manifested between them. It jumped to her pointing finger. The urge to listen grabbed at him more than he could pull away, and the thunder transformed as it leapt into his ear, into music.

The rhythmic beat calmed him. It progressed until he heard a voice. It was Shayla, but she was not singing or speaking, but a mixture of both. She was chanting, as though praising a God or speaking poetry. Ray hadn't even noticed that his eyes were closed, or that he was nodding his head along to Shayla's beat.

The next day, Ray walked back to the dusty castle floor.  When he approached the three of them, Shayla was smiling. He was not wearing his armor. There were no snakes.