The Child and the Spear

Although reluctant, Coletto had returned to Myrthalas, and her water-kin had done the same, slipping back into the depths of Lake Coaliren.

In front of me, only a spear and a sleeping child remained.

Of course, I had changed our location. Otherwise, the little girl would have woken up surrounded by dismembered bodies.

Venturing a bit deeper into the forest, I found what looked like a rough, poorly made camp, so I took the chance to lay the girl down on a bed of leaves sized for her.

Seeing the ragged state of the child, I had no doubt it was her camp… Maybe I should summon Coletto again later, and Merite too, so they can bathe her and bring new clothes.

Perhaps Lirilien would be the most suitable, but I am not sure it would be proper to call the ruler of Myrthalas to bathe just any child… Although she is not exactly just any child, it seems.

I leaned the spear against a tree near the girl. It was a pristine white, with golden decorations along its entire length. Despite having been submerged for so long, its blade had not lost the slightest bit of luster or edge.

According to the account of the water spirit, as translated by Coletto, that spear had fallen into the lake hundreds of years ago, and its magic was what had given life to the spirit in question.

That same magic radiated from the little girl, which was why the spirit felt compelled to protect her. She had done so from the shadows, especially while the child lived near the shore.

Despite the difference in power, merely telling her we had no intention of harming the child would not have made her leave the girl in our care so easily. It was something she sensed in me, something tied to the lake, the other half of her being, that encouraged her to trust.

Although she did not entirely understand what it was either…

The spear’s origin is unknown, but according to Coletto, it likely belonged to a celestial, the race closest to the gods.

Meldior had told me a little about them. Apparently they live on islands in the sky, and they are especially revered by one of the three human powers, the Blessed Kingdom.

Studying the sleeping child and comparing her to the traits I was given, together with her connection to the spear, I had no doubt she was of that race. Possibly the reincarnation of the spear’s former owner.

And why a reincarnation? As I said, the spear had been submerged for centuries.

The water spirit spoke of a woman who often visited the flowers along the lakeshore in recent years. It must have been then that the spear’s magic manifested in her womb.

But the girl seems to live alone now, always staying near the flowers that grew, nourished by the same magic of the spear lying not far beneath the surface.

***

Isara opened her eyes slowly and lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling above her bed, a patchwork of branches and the scraps of cloth she had managed to gather in the village.

She was not entirely sure what had happened. Her last memory was falling into the water when the wicked adults lunged at her.

Yet somehow she had woken up in her bed…

Isara rose carefully and stepped outside her makeshift tent. That was when she felt something strange. It was a new sensation, yet at the same time very familiar.

It drew her toward one of the nearby trees. There, leaning against the trunk, was a metal object, something like the weapons the village guards carried… Only vaguely similar, though, because this one looked a thousand times costlier…

How much could she sell it for?

No, no, a treasure like that had to belong to someone. She shouldn’t touch it. She might damage something, and she could never pay for it, not even if she sold flowers her whole life…

It had to belong to someone… and yet the feeling of familiarity only kept growing…

Isara approached cautiously, and her small hand reached toward the weapon. She did not know why, but she very much wanted to touch it.

The distance shrank bit by bit until, at last, her delicate fingers brushed the golden designs on the shaft.

!!

The spear began to glow, startling Isara. Even so, she didn’t step back. The spear called, and she knew it meant no harm.

What happened next took her breath away. The spear, turned into a ray of light, was absorbed into her hand and vanished without a trace… No, it did leave a trace.

A strange symbol had appeared on the back of Isara’s hand, and the child had no idea what it meant. She stared at it for a moment.

"Interesting. I imagined something might happen, but I didn’t think it would be so sudden."

A voice behind her made Isara whirl around so fast she stumbled and fell back onto the ground.

In front of her, seated among the roots of one of the immense trees surrounding her makeshift camp, was a young man with long silver hair and deep golden eyes.

His appearance was so unearthly, so mystical, that Isara thought she was looking at one of the spirits from the village legends.

"I’m sorry for scaring you, little one. That wasn’t my intention," said the mysterious figure with a smile. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Isara, your majesty."

At the child’s unexpected words, the young man was visibly startled but soon recovered his composure.

"Your majesty? Why did you call me that?"

"Because… because you look like one of those legendary heroes from the old stories… they all became kings and queens… at least the ones in my parents’ tales…"

Isara was truly nervous, so the young man tried to put her at ease with another smile.

"I see. For a moment I thought… haha, never mind. My name is Zendal. In these lands I’m just a traveler, so don’t worry. You can simply call me Zendal."

"Okay, Zendal… Ah! My parents said we should treat guests well! … Uh, I don’t think I managed to fetch any water… Zendal, wait a moment! I’ll mix some flour with water! And… I think I still have a few tasty herbs…"

"Easy now, look at the fire," said the young man called Zendal, guiding Isara with a glance.

Over the campfire sat a pot full of water, and in it a stew of meat and vegetables was simmering. It was a real luxury for Isara, who could not hunt and certainly couldn’t afford to buy meat.

"Is that your dinner, Zendal?" asked the little girl, a finger to her mouth, eyes shining.

"It’s yours," the young man replied with a smile. "You looked like you needed something to eat."