Light the World
Today's guest writer is Rebecca Bergquist (also known as Nienna in the Guild Wars 2 community). Rebecca is a writer on the CoT team and author of book 1 and 2 of The Eternal Blade Saga.
You can find out more about Rebecca on Twitter: @NiennaSLC
This story was published for our Summer of Short Stories (2019) event.
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Aleah yawned and carefully made her way across the small dining room with only the dying embers from the fireplace to light her way. It had been a long day. In fact, every day had felt long since her husband had gone off to fight against the threat Kralkatorrik posed to the world. With him gone, all household responsibilities, as well as managing their market stall filled with goods from their garden, fell solely on her shoulders. She did have a little help with Eoin, a sweetly-dispositioned sylvari who had been brought on last year as a hired hand, but he shared his time between Aleah’s family and another. Even though she was appreciative of the time he was able to spare, it was barely enough to make the days manageable.
After dropping the wash in an empty basket by the back door, Aleah stretched her back. Most of her added labors were physical, resulting in sore muscles along her lower back and arms. She never complained though. Before Roland left, they had discussed participating in the fight against the dragons at length, and together had agreed they couldn’t sit by any longer.
Aleah served with the Lionguard for years, even after their son Brayden was born. During her time with them, she had broken up countless tavern fights, thwarted thieves, and stopped smugglers. However, all of these tasks paled in comparison to the day Scarlet Briar lay siege on Lion’s Arch. No matter how hard she tried to shut out the memories, the crazed sylvari’s name was one she could never forget. Even thinking about it now made her heart race and her hands shake.
The name Scarlet Briar was synonymous with recollections of blood-curdling screams, the searing heat of fire, and a blood red sky. That day had been unlike anything Aleah had seen before. Many good people died that day; some were Aleah’s friends. All seemed lost. But Aleah and the other squad leaders refused to give in to the madness. They rooted themselves in their resolve, gathered all who were left to fight, and made a stand against Scarlet’s forces. The fight for Lion’s Arch was won that day, but they all had yet to realize the battle against the dragons had just begun.
Aleah stayed with the Lionguard for a year after Scarlet’s attack to help with the initial clean-up. She knew her fallen comrades would have wanted her to do so. But she was also battle-worn, and having faced the finality of death square in the face, she decided to spend more time with her family. She submitted for retirement a month after the cleanup was considered complete.
During this time, talk of the Jungle Dragon awakening reached their ears, and they immediately discussed their potential role in the situation. The two of them had always believed in doing the right thing, but having just retired from the fight, and wanting nothing more to spend time together as a family, they declined to answer. However, their peace was short-lived. Troubling news about the dragons kept finding its way to their ears, until the world’s struggles weighed too heavily on their hearts.
Despite the agreement Aleah and Roland had already established, they decided one of them would go. Together, they decided it was his turn to go out into the world to help with the fight against the dragons. The furthest Roland had ever ventured was Orr, so the idea of crossing the sea to an entirely new land terrified him, but he felt the call to go.
The morning Roland departed, he, Aleah, and their son Brayden lingered for ages just outside the front door in one embrace after another. Aleah was not thrilled with the outcome of their discussion, but Roland insisted that after years of Aleah serving with the Lionguard, it was his turn to help in the world’s fight. They did their best to hold back their tears, but their sorrow weighed heavy on their hearts. Tears eventually fell, and the embraces ended.
After putting on another log in the fire, Aleah breathed a sigh of relief and sat down at their dining table. She slipped her feet out of her shoes, peeled her socks off, and tossed them on the wooden floor. The hard surface felt nice and cool against her tired feet. Leaning back into her chair, she closed her eyes and rested her arms on the chair’s armrests. Her thoughts immediately rushed to her husband, wondering where he was and how he was fairing. Dark shadows fought their way into her mind, painting frightening images of what could be, but Aleah fought them off. She refused to allow her worry and anxiety convince her the love of her life was in danger. She couldn’t live that way—for herself and her son. It would drive her mad. She had to believe he was okay.
The sound of wood creaking from upstairs caught Aleah’s attention. She opened her eyes and shifted in her chair to look at the stairs leading to the second level of their modestly-sized house. Two small feet made their way down the steps, and soon after a pair of bright blue eyes peered over the rail.
“Brayden, sweetheart, what is it?” Aleah asked softly. She beckoned her son to her, and the young boy descended the rest of the stairs slowly with one hand guiding him along the wooden rail. The fingers of his other hand curled around one corner of a small pale green blanket that trailed behind him on the floor. Roland had made it for him from part of an old cloak of his that their son loved when he was a baby.
Brayden rubbed at his tired eyes. “I can’t sleep.”
Aleah flashed him a concerned glance as she picked him up and set him on her lap. “Is it Mr. Hoots again? Is he having another loud one-sided conversation?”
Mr. Hoots was an owl who had taken up residency in a large tree outside their home. Most nights the old bird was away hunting, but on occasion he would perch right outside Brayden’s window and hoot up a storm until the wee hours of the morning. When he did this, it kept the young boy up, and Aleah would have to tuck him back into bed one or two more times before he grew so tired, a stampede of centaurs couldn’t wake him.
The little boy shook his head. “No, he’s not there tonight.”
Aleah cocked her head to the side as she brushed a curl of dark hair from his forehead. “What is it then?”
“I miss daddy.”
She felt her heart break in two, and immediately tears threatened to spill over onto Aleah’s cheeks. “Oh sweetheart, I do too.”
Brayden rested his head against his mother’s shoulder and started to cry. Aleah’s heart ached in the wake of her son’s sorrow. She wished there was something she could do to take his hurt away. She would give anything she had to make it possible, but even Aleah knew there was no magic in the world that could fix a broken heart in an instant. With a heavy sigh, she rubbed his back and softly uttered comforting words until his tears ceased.
“What if he gets hurt and no one can help him?” Brayden asked as he sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Aleah fished a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped off the back of her son’s hand. “Do you remember that time you tried to climb over the garden fence last year, but fell?”
He nodded.
“Within moments, your father had healed all of your cuts and bruises,” she said. “The goddess Dwayna has graced your father with healing hands. If he could heal your wounds in an instant, he will certainly be able to heal himself. Besides, there are a lot of people out there who are going to get hurt while they fight to protect our world. They are going to need him to help them get better.”
Brayden considered this for a moment, his dark brows furrowed in thought. “Mom?”
“Yes, hon?”
“Is dad going to be a hero like the rest of them?” he asked as he looked up at her. “He’s helping all those people out there.”
A proud smile graced Aleah’s lips as she looked down at her son. “What do you think?”
Brayden considered this question for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I have to agree.” Resting her elbow on the table, Aleah propped her head up in her hand as she smiled at her son. “Your father and I have always believed if there are wrongs we can help make right, then we should try. Whether it’s here in Lion’s Arch or out there somewhere in the world.”
“Is that why he left?” he asked. “To make something right again?”
Aleah nodded. “Yes, you could say that. There are many out there right now who are working to make things right in the world.”
The young boy snuggled closer to his mother, resting his head on her chest. “That’s good.”
She kissed the top of his head. “Yes, it is.”
The boy suddenly wiggled, slid off of his mother’s lap, and padded over to the fireplace. Up on the mantle was a sword resting on a wooden stand that Roland himself had carved for Aleah. Brayden stopped and pointed up at the weapon. “You made things right before, didn’t you?”
Aleah looked upon her old sword, Hero’s Oath, with great reverence. It had been her father’s, and he gave it to Aleah when his own fighting days were over. She wore it proudly on her hip every day she served with the Lionguard. Together, Aleah and the blade had seen more fights than she would care to admit, but every time the weapon helped see her through.
She reached up and lifted the sword from its stand. “I did, for a time. Your father and I decided it was his turn to go out into the world and help those he could while I stayed home with you and the shop,” she explained while turning the weapon over in her hands. She flashed him a knowing smile, attempting to take advantage of a teachable moment. “Do you think this sword made me a hero?” She presented the weapon to her son, still sheathed in its old, black leather scabbard with silver inlay along the top edge.
Brayden considered the question for a moment, his small dark brow furrowed in concentration. “Yes?”
Aleah held out the weapon for him to take. “It’s all right. Go on. Two hands though.”
The young boy dropped his blanket on the hardwood floor and took the sword into his two hands. His hold on the weapon faltered for a moment, and he nearly dropped it on the floor. It was heavy for a boy of six years, and he struggled to keep it level in his hands. “It’s heavy.”
His mother nodded. “It is. It took me a long time to build up the strength to wield it. Your grandfather had me practice nearly every day with it.”
“Every day?” The little boy looked down at the blade, his eyes wide.
Aleah chuckled. “Every day,” she said, echoing her son’s words. “But the weapon wasn’t what made me a hero. It didn’t make your grandfather a hero, and it certainly isn’t what makes your father a hero. The weapon is merely a tool we use to fight and defend.”
He cocked his head to the side and flashed his mother a confused glance. “But father is still a hero, right?”
“Yes of course, dear,” she replied. “With or without his weapon, your father is still a hero. Do you know why?”
Brayden shook his head.
She reached out and gently touched her son’s chest where his heart was. “A hero is made here.”
He placed his hand over his mother’s as he looked down at his chest.
“Every hero is a light unto this world. Your father is a light. Each of those people fighting alongside your father are lights as well. The more lights we have in the world, the brighter it will be, and the less scary it will seem.”
“I want to be a light too!” the boy exclaimed.
“Oh, do you now?” Aleah said. She let out a delighted chuckle. “Then I suppose it’s time to start your training, young one.”
The young boy cheered and made a fighting stance similar to one he had seen his mother do on many occasions.
Aleah let out a delighted chuckle. “I love your enthusiasm, but I’m afraid we will have to wait until the morning. It’s late, and you need your sleep.”
“Aww, but-.”
Aleah raised her eyebrow, and immediately Brayden fell silent and abandoned his attempt to argue, but his displeasure had left a sour look on his face. She did her best to contain her smirk and not take away from the legitimacy of her authority as a parent, but it was a struggle. Her face threatened to crack a smile, but Aleah fought to keep her lips straight.
Aleah held out her hand, and Brayden reluctantly placed the weapon back in her hands. “Even a hero needs their sleep.”
After placing her sword back up on its stand on the mantle, Aleah scooped up her son, despite his verbal resistance and rested him on her hip. Slipping her toes under the edge of Brayden’s blanket, she kicked it up into the air high enough so she could grab it with her free hand. She offered it to him, and he clutched the well-loved material tightly against his cheek as he broke into a deep yawn.
“See? You are tired,” Aleah pointed out with a grin. “Let’s tuck you back into bed.”
As Aleah climbed the stairs, Brayden rested his head on her shoulders and yawned again. The firelight from the first floor did not reach the top of the stairs and beyond, but she had walked these floors so many times, she could have maneuvered through them with her eyes closed. She pushed opened the door with her foot and stepped into Brayden’s room. Moonlight cast a dim glow that was just bright enough for her to make out the outlines of a few toys still left out on the floor. Carefully, Aleah tip toed around them and tucked her son back into his bed.
“Mom?”
She sat down on the edge of his bed. “Yes, hon?”
“When I grow up, I want to be just like you and dad,” he said as he pulled his quilt up under his chin and smiled.
Alena placed a tender kiss on the top of her son’s head and then smiled at him warmly. “I hope you’re even better than we are sweetheart. I hope you’re even brighter.”
