Charged Memories

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"Your Mama said you started another fight at school."

Liron smiled defiantly, the beginnings of a bruise already apparent on his left cheek. "I punched him just like you showed me, Pappy!"

Tulgar fought to hide a smile. The youth's enthusiasm for his lessons was admirable, but no good would come of encouraging violence for its own sake. "Those lessons are for self defense, my little warrior. Not for bullying your classmates."

"He started it!" Liron shoved his fists in his pockets. "He called me a liar! Mama says you stopped the war."

"Prevented a war. It never started."

"But he said Kalia Furstek stopped it, not you!"

"She did all the talking." Tulgar shrugged his shoulders. "But she needed time to get ready. I gave it to her."

"Tell me!" Liron sat at Tulgar's feet, brown eyes at attention.

"Well..." Tulgar pretended to think. "Did I ever tell you that I can control the weather?"

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Liron leaned forward. "You mean you could just shoot a rain bolt into the air and it would rain?"

"Pretty much." Tulgar's eyes danced with mischief. "Do you know what we used to shoot the rain bolts, to make sure they got high enough for a good rain?"

"What?"

"A rain bow."

Liron rolled his eyes, smiling. "Pappy!" He shook his head, fine brown hair sliding to cover his eyes. He tucked the errant strands behind his ears. "But how did you stop the Heathen Crusades? Tell me!"

"No." Tulgar held up a finger to stop Liron's protest. "It's past your bedtime. And besides, your Mama said you have Divination homework tonight. Something about dreamwalking?"

"You'll show me?" Liron lept to his feet. "I'll get ready right now! Come on, Pappy! It's time for bed!"

∼∼

Liron squinted, leaning precariously over the bulwark. "I can't see them! I need a spyglass."

Looking up in surprise as the mentioned spyglass appeared in his hand, he caught a chuckle from Tulgar. "It's a dream, little warrior," Tulgar answered to his bewildered gaze. "The rules are different. Now. Aim the glass towards that line of smoke in the distance."

Following his Pappy's recommendation Liron inhaled suddenly. "There's so many of them!" He panned the spyglass along the horizon, taking in the full strength of the Heathen Crusaders. "I've never seen an army so big! How did you stop them, Pappy? They're almost here!"

We just needed to buy time for Kalia to gather the people she needed and meet us here in Smirnyal. She had some fancy ideas for a treaty, turned them into the Arcturian-Heathen Accord! We just had to do our part to convince the Heathens it was a good idea." Tulgar looked past Liron, his gaze distant, as he relived the memory.

Liron dropped the spyglass as Tulgar shoved a crossbow into his chest, the glass fading to nothing before it hit the ground. "Here. You don't have the muscle strength for a bow yet, but these are better anyway." Liron watched intently as Tulgar demonstrated how to ready the bolt before allowing him to guide his hands and aim the crossbow into the air. "Aim for that cloud over there. That's a good one for what we need."

Liron steadied his breath before pulling the trigger, watching the arrow arc into the sky before discharging its enchantments into the cloud. He felt himself jump, giddy with excitement, at the results." You made it snow?"

"The wind really kicked up after nightfall, so we ended up with a real blizzard. We kept the ice bolts flying for three days. By the time Kalia got here, those Heathens were already wondering why they left their warm homes to come bother us in the frozen north." Tulgar pointed Liron's attention to the sudden appearance of a large barrel of ice bolts. "Why don't you shoot a few more? We have all night."

Liron's grin would have been visible to the opposing Heathen Crusaders, if any had been looking in his direction. "Best. Homework. Ever."

Facets of Fillimet is an ongoing project containing all the short stories included within articles spread across Filliment. More volumes will be added as required.
  Periodically I will also include patron-only stories originally intended for inclusion on an article page, but later removed due to length or other factors.
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