Old Age Should Recite Rhymes at the Close of Day
Flash fiction, 900 words. For IAM's April 10 prompt. I'm hoping for a sunny weekend!
Author’s Note: This is the sequel to my Nov. 6 story, “The Seed of Light,” and a prequel to March 26’s “The Hums Followed.” You can enjoy each as standalone stories, however.
Ehtar looked upon the luminous cloud and despaired. If only it had brought the light with it! If only it had threatened any other land!
But it hadn’t brought light, and it hadn’t chosen another land. And it wasn’t a cloud.
It was the maw of some bleak stellar sea, which pulled into it all that drew near. For light it was especially hungry. Now, like the world beneath an eclipse, the light grew dimmer, and like the world at sunset, it phased red and weak.
Ehtar admitted that the spectacle was beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstom. He watched the last of the Estellae struggle in what he called the Dark Sea as they were swept into unknown reaches. They were the guardians of this land, tiny angels sent by a sun whose shine had diminished, though not its duty. The Estellae were like seeds from a divine flower of pure brilliance.
The Dark Sea ate them first.
“This is our fate,” Ehtar murmured, his heart leaden. “This was always our fate.”
“Do not despair,” counseled Nara beside him, more to herself than to Ehtar. “Is it not written:
Sol was bright but it has gone away
Sol cannot come out to play
But the Seed of Light will be our day,
Endless Night won’t have its way.”
“My love,” chuckled Ehtar despite himself. “A children’s rhyme is not exactly Scripture.”
“And the Dark Sea isn’t a black hole,” retorted Nara. “People have gone in with ropes and skiffs. They’ve returned.”
“But with no word of the lost Estellae. Without them, we can’t live here. Our sun is beautiful and good, but it’s not enough. It lights our day, but the Estellae warm our crops and guide the birds and – so much! If that pit drowns them, if they are trapped, forced to stop, bound in place, they will die. And the more of them that die, the weaker grows our sun. How are we to save them? Who will try?”
“We will.”
Upon hearing that voice, Ehtar’s heart sank into a black depth beyond despair.
Without turning around, he replied, “Son, this isn’t your responsibility. You have small children.”
“And they’re coming with us.” Willyn Ehtarson placed a hand on his father’s shoulder and forced Ehtar to face him. Sara Willynswyfe and their three children stood with Willyn. Nara had begun to cry at the sight of them. The young ones embraced their grandmother, though Ehtar was uncertain whether they understood why she wept.
“We haven’t been idle, Father. We’ve been scouting. It really is like a very viscous sea. That darkness, it might swallow things, but it’s edible. Like pudding. Even in its depths we won’t starve.”
“But you will wither,” said Ehtar bitterly. “Without companionship, without direction. Without light.”
“It’s not just us, Father. Robin Laurelsgroom and his family, and his sisters and brothers are all bringing their own ships. We’ll find the Estellae, Father. We’ll show them the way back. We’ll find out lovely little guiding lights soon enough. The Dark Sea is insistent but slow-moving. They couldn’t have gotten far.”
“We’ll find them before it can drown them,” insisted Sara his wife.
“Before it can drown this world?” countered Ehtar.
Willyn gave him a sad smile. “My children are young, Father. I can’t afford to be fatalistic.”
“If it takes us a week or a hundred years, we’ll find them and guide them home,” Sara said. “If we return to shadows, even if we have to rekindle this beloved planet from night, we will.”
“Endless Night won’t have its way,” sang Willyn with a grin. He must have overheard his mother. Or maybe he’d just never forgotten that first lesson of childhood.
Ehtar embraced his son and wept.
“If it takes a week or a hundred years, we will wait,” Nara promised through sniffles. “Did not the Seed of Light come to save us in a perilous hour? Did it not break itself apart to provide for us the Estellae?”
“What kind of gratitude would it be not to risk ourselves for them now?” agreed Willyn.
How alike they were, thought Ehtar. Nara and her son. He was reminded that hope shed its own kind of light, and tried to rally his spirits. But the darkness that loomed above them all whispered that he would never see his son again.
The two days that followed were hectic and anxious. Each of the seven families loaded their ships with provisions, oil, and lanterns. They prepared their children and bid farewell to those staying behind to witness the tides of twilight swell.
The reports arrived not long after the ships disappeared into the Dark Sea. Black clouds had opened over other lands, upon other planets. The Dark Sea had drowned suns and swallowed stars. The entire universe was dimming. The people were grateful then to the Seed of Light, which though wan, did not allow itself to be eaten. They prayed that the Estellae were similarly robust, that they would float and strive and not be overcome.
Ehtar looked upon the cloud and tried to hope.
Having read the other two prompts, this is a unique setting: colorful despite the dissapearing light. I'd love to read some longer or serialized pieces that flesh out the world.