The Shadow's Spear

1.1 Visions in the Sky

Anoran overlooked a landscape of rolling, grassy hills under the cover of a tiny sliver of moonlight. Countless dots of starlight—“Falas’ jewels” in poetry—watched from above. The spring air was cool, not cold. He sat crouched, a short bow in hand, next to his friend Kohal.

Kohal, eighteen years old, had a pleasant face and brown hair. He was of middling height, and when they were boys, the many of the girls of the village took a fancy to him. He had a slight limp, the memory of a broken bone from when they were six. He refused to receive pity for it.

“Bad night for the hunt, it seems,” Kohal said.

Anoran, of middle height with black hair, wore a hard expression on his face. He had a scraggly beard and small, dark eyes. “You’re the one who suggested it.”

During this annual deer migration, most of the men of Wildgrass exchanged sleepless nights for meat on the table. But Anoran didn’t feel up for the hunt.

 “Better than staying home, right?” Kohal said.

“Everything feels the about the same, to me.”

“I’m with you, you know. We’ll get through this.”

“Quiet, you’ll scare the deer.”

A group of five deer cautiously strolled out from behind a hill. Kohal silently slipped an arrow to his string and began to take aim.

The sky flashed white. Anoran looked up, hoping to catch the tail of a shooting star, but it vanished too quickly. He turned his head down in time to see the last of the deer bounding away, back behind the hill.

“This is pointless. Let’s go home.”

“Look,” Kohal said, pointing to the sky.

The light flashed again, brighter. Behind it, stars vanished in an arc across the sky. Then they reappeared and the sky returned to normal.

“What in the world was that?” Kohal asked.

Again, the flashes. One illuminated the landscape like day, one devoured light. The intensity and frequency began to increase. Anoran flipped over and put his hands behind his head to watch. Whatever this strange show, it was beautiful.

Two forms emerged into sight: a bright form shaped like a man and a black form like a rabid wolf, only visible in its absorption of the beams from the first and because it turned the deep blue of the night sky to blackness. The wolf threw itself at the man, and those beams of light and dark burst across the world below. The black retreated and changed into a bear. Another clash. Despite the violence, there seemed to be no injuries.

They grew closer, different forms assailing the bright man.

Terror seized Anoran. Were these the Taner? Or ancient beasts returning from a journey to the stars? And would the darkness win? He crossed his arms and shivered in fear, knowing that he couldn’t take cover from these forms in these smooth hills.

As they grew larger, great booms echoed when they clashed, and wind rushed out of the explosions of their battle. In the daylike beams, tall stalks of grass danced.

The two separated and looked back and forth to the land below. How far were they? Nearby? Miles away? Anoran had no sense of their scale. He wanted to turn over and curl into a fetal position, but the spectacle compelled his attention.

Tears. The bright form wept. Tears fell from its face down to the surface, somewhere far away.

The black form changed to an enormous man, a man holding a spear. It looked at Anoran and threw that spear directly to him. It fell, fell, but no, not Anoran. Just somewhere nearby. The impact sounded like a thunderbolt, then the ground rumbled and shook, and a gust like a tornado rushed over the landscape from where the object fell.

The battle resumed: more collisions, more flashes, more wind. But it grew further and further away, dimmer and dimmer, then vanished.

Anoran found himself in that fetal position he’d tried to avoid. He did not move until the calm of night returned. Kohal helped him up, and they embraced.

“Was that a vision?” Anoran asked, barely able to speak.

“No idea. Perhaps the elders will know.”

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