PREFACE: I wrote this one for a Substack anthology earlier this year, but the project was cancelled. A shame, cause it was a pretty cool initiative. Hopefully there will be another shot at something like this someday. In the meantime, here’s the story. Hope you like it!
The sky exploded and a deluge of fire rained down on the massed troops below. Ten thousand screams echoed in the dark as Sprinkle fluttered through the clouds. Exhaustion numbed her limbs, but still she sprung forward, careful not to fly too close to the blinding flames. The armies clashed and war raged on as her destination finally appeared. Shrouded in mist, the castle loomed at the top of a mountain overlooking the battlefield. She dove for an open window in the central tower but paused before going in, wary a trap might have been set. Using her senses, she felt about the sill and frame. Finding no evidence of foul play, she went through. The sounds of war instantly became muffled—such a pleasant respite! She landed on the floor and took a deep breath. Looked around. Recognized the way—she’d been here many times after all. Though never twice while the same master ruled over these lands. She took off and darted out of the empty chamber, through dusty halls, down a spiral staircase—down and down and down—and into the library. The room was cluttered with piles of books. They were everywhere. On the floor, on tables, on chairs. Some rose so high as to touch the ceiling. Though she could not see him, she could hear and smell the man she sought. He was here, as she had known he would be. Reading as he always did. She made her way through the books until she finally saw him. Tall, muscular, bearded, with scars all over his bare arms. He did not see her at once, as she was too small to spot. But the sound of her wings batting the air finally drew his attention. He lifted his head and squinted. “Who goes there?” “My name is Sprinkle, Lord Light. I bring you word from my master.” Gad had seized the title after his predecessor had died at the hands of Lord Dark. He was as suited as any. The man grunted. “A pixie. Can you at least make yourself visible, or is it too much to ask?” “I already am, My Lord.” “Then why... Ah, yes. Of course.” He paused, pondering. “I suppose there is no way of making you bigger?” “There would be little point, My Lord.” “I suppose not. Very well. Give me your message.” “Lord Dark calls upon your decency. As you know, there has never been light cast upon these lands—save for that cast by fires. Darkness is all there is, all there ever was, all there should ever be. He begs for you to reconsider your position.” Gad sat back in his chair, remaining silent for a long time. Sprinkle fluttered around, growing nervous. She landed at the top of a pile of books—fearing belatedly that her weight might make it topple, but it did not. “How many times have you delivered this message, Sprinkle?” The man’s voice startled her after such a long silence. She shifted on her feet and blinked. “I have lost count, My Lord.” “Have any of my predecessors ever answered favorably to this request?” “I fear not, My Lord.” “So why should I act any differently?” “I do not know, My Lord.” “And, perhaps more importantly, why does your master insist on making this request, knowing full well it will be denied, again and again?” “Perhaps he hopes, My Lord, that someday one of you will be more reasonable.” “More reasonable.” The words came out as a mutter. Gad closed the book he had been reading and set it down on a small table next to him. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable, Sprinkle?” “It is not for me to say, My Lord.” “No, I suppose not. Still, I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter. You may speak freely.” The pixie’s wings flapped behind her as she considered the man’s question. This was different. No one had ever asked for her opinion. “I am nobody,” she protested meekly. “Ah, but that is not true, is it? You have outlived generations of us—on both sides, I suspect. And you represent the common folks. I would hear your thoughts.” Sprinkle frowned. “I... Well... My master worded it better than I ever could, My Lord.” “So you think darkness came first?” “Well, of course, everyone knows that!” She gasped and quickly added: “My Lord.” “What if I told you that you were wrong?” “That cannot be, My Lord.” “And yet, it is. There could never have been darkness without light. The world once was bathed in it. It was bright, shiny, colorful... You could see the beauty in things, in people, everywhere.” “If I may, My Lord...” “Yes?” “How would you know?” Gad smiled a sad smile. “You think I am too young to have known this age... An age you, yourself, despite your millennia, cannot recall?” Sprinkle said nothing, though that very thought had occurred to her. The man tapped at the book he had been reading, then gestured toward the piles all around them. “I haven’t read everything here—not yet. There are too many, of course. But I have read enough to know the truth.” The pixie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Books can lie, My Lord.” The man snapped. “I reject that notion! Go back to your master, child, and tell him my answer. You know what it is.” Sprinkle lowered her head, sniffed. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “He will be most displeased.” Without another word, she sprang into the air and darted back out. *** It was not unusual for the Lords Light and Dark to die a violent death. Which was only fair, considering the fate of those who fought for them and the torments they had to endure. Lord Hadenas, however, had inherited his position when his predecessor had died of old age, peacefully in his sleep. A sad affair that had outraged the ministers. The young Hadenas had sworn to never be so careless, but ultimately it was his cruel disposition that had won him the seat. She found him on his throne, staring into the spinning blue sphere that floated in front of his face. His black hair was cut short, and he wore a leather suit with a jade amulet around his neck. Neatly trimmed miniature trees lined the aisle that led to him, in impeccable rows of twos and threes. He looked up as she approached. Quirked a brow. “Well?” he asked. With a grimace, she told him everything. When she was done, Lord Dark laughed. “I told you it wouldn’t work, didn’t I?” Sprinkle bowed her head. “You did, master.” “Yet you insisted on this fool’s errand...” Many of her kind were on the first line of battle, a detail that often eluded Lord Dark—this one and all those who had come before him. “It is tradition, master,” she muttered. Hadenas spat. “Tradition! Pah! What has tradition done for us? Have things improved one way or another in all the years of your miserable life?” “No,” admitted the pixie. “Nothing has changed, master.” “So then, I would argue it is time to try something new.” She had heard those words before, from previous lords, and it always made her nervous—as it did now. Because it only promised more suffering for those on the field. “If I may, master?” Hadenas shrugged. “Speak your mind, I care not.” “In all my years, it has always been Lord Dark’s goal to ensure chaos retains the upper hand.” She saw her lord frown and pressed on before he could interrupt. “It seems to me, master, that this goal is easily achieved by simply waging constant war.” She rose from the ground, wings stirring the air behind her as she pointed toward the window. “Battle is chaos, master. There is nothing else like it. Is this not enough?” The frown on the man’s face had deepened as she spoke and she could hear the simmering anger in his response, though on the surface he remained calm and collected. “Do you think we’ve won, child?” It was never a good sign when he called her ‘child’—she was much older than his grandmother’s grandmother, even if she did not look her age. She was suddenly glad not to be on the ground anymore. If things got heated, she could at least make a speedy escape. She knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to catch her—no one was. “Do we need to, master?” she asked in a small voice, ready to spring for the window. Hadenas gritted his teeth. “You have to ask? With all your years, I thought you more wise.” He slowly rose from his chair and she fluttered higher, well out of his reach. If he noticed, he did not comment. Instead, he put his hands behind his back and started pacing. “This never was about retaining the upper hand. It is about genocide. We must annihilate them, lest they annihilate us. And make no mistake, they would at the first opportunity. So long as the slightest trace of light remains, we cannot rest. It is too cruel a threat. Were it to spread, it would leave no darkness untainted. Already it corrupts and defiles the purity of chaos. With light, there can be no darkness; just like with darkness, there can be no light. We simply cannot coexist, and thus it is a battle of survival.” Sprinkle said nothing. She knew the man meant every word, but she knew just as well that he was mistaken. It was easy enough for light and darkness to coexist. Wasn’t it already the case? There would be no need for war if they did not coexist. There was order and there was chaos, all around them, everywhere. But she had taken chances enough and would not push her luck. “Very well, master,” she muttered. He glanced at her. “I care not if you disapprove. It is not your call to make. You have no say in the matter. Is this understood?” “Of course, master.” “Good. Leave me now. I must prepare for battle.” Her eyes went wide. “Surely, you can’t mean—” “I am going in the field. It is time. Now, go!” She flew away in great haste. *** Beings that dwarfed mountains marched through the valley. With each step, they squashed thousands of hapless soldiers, blood and guts spilling under their bare feet. Bones crunched as bows fired at the giants, but they swatted the arrows as if they were bugs. Those that hit the mark did little but irritate the creatures. They stomped on, wreaking havoc amidst the enemy. One such behemoth used a mountain as a stool. As it sat upon the snowy peak, it observed the proceedings with a snort. It picked its nose, frowning. Sprinkle flew up to its ear, unnoticed, and landed within. At least it was warm here, if not entirely clean. But she had an ulterior motive. Going to her knees, she bent her head until her forehead touched the fleshy ground. “Hear me, oh powerful one,” she whispered. “You are needed elsewhere.” She waited for her voice to carry, as she knew it would—it was not the first time she made use of the giants. They were easy enough to trick—as if their brains were inversely proportional to their size. A deep rumbling sound echoed through the cavernous lobe, sending tremors under her knees and feet. She held tight to a nearby protuberance of flesh. “It is I,” she said reassuringly. “Siziraeh, the goddess of youth.” The giants were inherently religious and superstitious. Their gods were countless—so much so that they themselves lost count and would constantly invent new ones to make up for those forgotten. “You must make haste,” she continued as the titan she rode calmed down. “There is great peril to the east! You must crush the opposition before any damage is done.” The oversized brute started, heading toward the lake where the heart of the battle raged on. With some luck, they would reach it before Lord Dark. “Hebb knows way,” growled the giant. “Hebb crush enemy.” Sprinkle smiled and drifted toward the opening, floating in the air to avoid getting tossed around by her carrier’s quick steps. Glancing out, she saw the landscape changing so fast she couldn’t keep track. Suddenly it all stopped, and she nearly bumped into an earlobe. “Those are Hebb’s brothers!” The words came out as a whine. “They were misguided by the god of evil deeds. Now Light is in danger and—” “Light is bad!” “Light is a new goddess. She shines bright and will bring peace and eternal life to Hebb and his brothers. She must be saved!” “Hebb not like this.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. They were so close... “Listen to me, Hebb. They do not know what they are doing. You must show them the truth. Show them the path. Be a leader. You can turn the tide. You can do this!” There was a moment of silence, then he started moving again, though more slowly now. As he approached, some of the other goliaths looked at him with large grins. “You come crush with us, brother? There is plenty bugs for all.” “No. We must stop.” The other frowned. “You not want fun, fine. But not spoil ours!” “Light is goddess. We must protect her from the god of evil deeds.” Sprinkle saw the giants who had heard Hebb pause and hesitate. “Tell them about the rewards,” she whispered. “She promises peace and eternal life. We must defend her.” Before the other could respond, a deafening boom echoed through the valley. The ground shook and all turned their heads toward a quickly spreading expanse of darkness. Everything it touched turned charcoal black. “Oh no,” she muttered. “He’s here.” Hebb and his brothers, without hesitation, rushed toward the coming darkness. “No, no, no!” she yelled. “Go back! You can’t...” She stopped when she realized the giant was not hearing her—either that or he had decided to ignore her words, now that he had found a new purpose. Panicking, she flew out of Hebb’s ear and hurried in the opposite direction, not daring to look back—not even when she heard the screams of terror. And then there was only silence. Ahead of her, she saw the massed troops of Lord Light pause and stare in horror at what was coming straight for them. That was when she saw it. A growing glow of white. Far in the back. It sped, flying over the soldiers. Sprinkle shuddered as she realized Lord Light himself had come to the fight. Then the enormity of what was about to happen suddenly hit her. The two Lords were going to clash. This had never happened before. This was not good. She yelled to the crowds underneath, urging them to run away, but they could not hear her over the din of the powers at play. Not waiting a moment longer, she flew away, far from the battle and the impending confrontation. Another blast. The shock wave pushed her faster than she could fly, sending her spinning down into the trees. Then everything went dark. *** When she woke, she saw a great rift in the sky. It was black, it was white, it was red and blue and green... Soldiers on the ground were being sucked through by the thousands, as if winds grabbed them and pushed them up and up and up, until they disappeared, never to be seen again. Then it slowly faded, until the sky was healed. She later confirmed what she suspected: both Lords had died. One cannot pit two opposite forces against each other and expect them to come out whole. She could have told them they would only destroy each other... along with so many of the people who fought for them. The ministers cared little for such matters. They honored the two madmen for their dedication to their folly and simply appointed new Lords. And then the war started again. If you like my writing, please consider buying a copy of my novel, upgrading to a paid subscription, or making a Paypal or Ko-fi donation. As an independent author, any of these would help a lot! Want to read more Fantasy? Here are two other stories you might enjoy:
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