CHAPTER TWO: WRONG IS RIGHT

LISTEN TO THE ACCOMPANYING AUDIO!

Finley West tapped his pen against the open journal laid out on the table before him. It contained his notes for the final battle at the end of his current D&D campaign where his players would face off against the “Big Bad.” Only they would discover that it was not Ikkut Grieffinger the Ghoul who was behind the nefarious plot to take over the Adamantine Empire, but another far more powerful and dangerous foe: Xelroth Vex, the Night King.  

But Finley wasn’t obsessing as he usually did on getting the lore just right even though the Night King had, in fact, existed and, according to some, still might. What worried him was his best friend. Something was wrong with Declan. Except wrong wasn’t exactly the correct word, because, depending on how one looked at it, some would say there was too much right with Declan, too. 

Watching Declan put the obnoxious, human-hating goblin in his place with such style and ease wasn’t unusual. Unfortunately, there had been many times that Declan had to step in when certain high fantasy beings decided to spew their vile thoughts about humanity being useless or worse.  The thing was that Declan was too good at dealing with it. 

Too strong. 

Too fast. 

Too everything.

For a human anyway. 

Not that Declan’s abilities surprised Finley. From the moment they’d met in sixth grade when Declan had pounded Steve Riker and Ronnie Dunford into the ground after they’d cornered Finley at recess and broken his glasses, he’d known that Declan was different. Special. And that had been more than confirmed the day the Leviathan came.  

But Declan didn’t want anyone else to know about what he’d done that day. How he’d saved Finley and Gemma. How he’d done what no human supposedly could, which was use magic. He’d kept them all alive for twelve long hours while the Leviathan had slaughtered everyone else in Lightwell until King Aquilan had arrived with his army of Battle Mages. 

Gemma was Gemma Baston, the now thirteen-year-old daughter of General Michael Baston and his wife Councillor Shonda Baston. The five of them had become a found family since the Leviathan had invaded. But before that Gemma had just been a neighbor that neither he nor Declan had known much about. 

But for all the power–the rightness–that Declan had shown with the Leviathan five years ago and with the goblin today, there was one thing that was genuinely wrong with his best friend, which was Declan’s growing aversion to the Sun. More than an aversion. Sunlight made his friend deathly ill.  

Finley and Declan had walked to the Dawn together that afternoon. This was a far earlier shift for Declan than normal, but his co-worker, Lily, couldn’t work and Helgrom needed someone to cover for her. Finley had so much preparation to do for the final battle of his game that he’d offered to walk over with Declan and plan at the Dawn instead of their house. 

The moment that they had stepped outside their door and the sunlight had hit his best friend for the first time in ages, it had occurred to Finley that he hadn’t seen Declan out in daylight in almost a year. Declan usually worked nights at the Dawn. He usually slept all day, keeping his bedroom shrouded in darkness with blackout shades, until the Sun was well below the horizon. 

Even on his days off, he and Declan hung out exclusively at night prowling Lightwell’s beautiful avenues, checking out the construction of the Aryas Palace, or strolling under the moonlight dappled trees of the fairy-filled forests that surrounded the city. 

“You know, Declan, this is the first time I’ve seen you in daylight in ages!” Finley had laughed, but then Declan had swayed as if he were going to pass out. Finley had shot out a hand to steady him. “Whoa there! Are you okay?” 

“Ah, y-yeah, f-fine,” Declan answered weakly, not sounding okay at all. His best friend frantically tugged the deep hood of his black jacket up to fully cover his head and face before pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. “It’s just really–really bright out here. Don’t you think it’s bright? Almost blinding.”

Finley frowned as he cast a glance up at the sky that was scudded with clouds. It had been raining earlier that morning. “It’s actually a little overcast but–”

“It’s so bright,” Declan repeated almost as if the word itself caused him pain. He fumbled with his sunglasses and shoved them on his face. “How can you even see? My eyes are watering. Stinging. God, it’s so bright.”

For a moment, Finley had thought Declan might retreat back into the house. Declan looked over his shoulder at the doorway, once more swaying. But then he fisted his hands and resolutely strode down the front walk as if it were an enemy he had to slay. Finley had to hurry after him to keep up. But Declan’s steps soon slowed until he was practically dragging his feet. His shoulders hunched and he’d begun to shiver as if feverish.

“Declan, seriously, are you okay?” Finley’s voice sounded tight to his own ears as alarm built in him.  “What’s wrong? Are you getting sick? Maybe we should go home. I’ll let Helgrom know you’re too ill to work and–”

“No! Helgrom needs me. I–I just need to get inside the Dawn,” Declan gasped.

Declan was rarely sick.  In fact, he hadn’t been ill in a decade. But now he looked like he was dying. White-faced. Shaking. Hardly able to walk. Finley’s heart was in his throat. 

Few human doctors had survived the war with the Leviathan, but the Sun Elves had Menders whose magic could cure most illnesses, even cancers that had been deadly before. Did Declan need one of those? They’d never required a Mender’s services, but there was one nearby, just two streets over if he recalled correctly.

“Here. Put your arm over my shoulders. We’re almost at the Dawn,” Finley offered.  “We’ll get you inside and I’ll find a Mender–”

“No!” Declan’s voice was surprisingly strong and definite.

“What? But, Declan, something is really wrong–”

“No, just–just get me inside and I’ll be fine! Please, Finley,” the last was the closest to begging that Finley had ever heard Declan do.

“O-okay, but if you don’t get better I’m getting someone.”

“All right. But I will be okay. Just need to get out of this–this accursed light.”

Finley ended up lifting Declan’s arm over his shoulders and partially carrying his best friend into the Dawn. As soon as the door closed and the Sun’s rays were extinguished, his best friend gave out a sob of relief.

“Help me to–to the chair over–over there. I just need–need to sit,” Declan murmured.

The indicated chair was in the darkest corner of the bar. Declan sank down onto it and sat with his head between his knees. He kept his hood pulled firmly over his head and his sleeves covered his hands. Tremors ran through Declan’s body. Finley crouched down in front of him. His hands gently roved over his best friend’s shoulders as if looking for wounds. But there were none. 

“Declan, I really think I should get a Mender–”

“No, Finley, no,” Declan whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.”

Was the trembling slowing down? Yes. Declan’s breathing was a little better, too. Finley’s own heart was still racing, but he swallowed down the acrid and bitter taste of fear that had flooded his mouth. Declan would be okay. He would. 

You’re not going to lose him. He’s just a little sick.  That’s all. You’re panicking because of the war.  After all these years, Declan looking the least bit ill sends you into a tizzy, which is ridiculous.  He doesn’t need that. He needs you to be calm, Finley scolded himself internally. 

“Let me get you some water,” Finley offered, making his voice sound impassive. “Would that help?”

Declan nodded. “Please.”

Finley raced over to the bar and, with shaking hands, he filled a glass with cool water. He brought that over to Declan. His best friend took the glass in both hands, but still slopped some of the liquid over the sides before he was able to drink half of it down in one go. Finley bit his inner cheek, trying to hold his panic back. Things were safer than they’d ever been since the Leviathan invaded, but his emotions were more fragile than he’d thought. 

He’ll be fine. He’s always fine. And I can convince him to see a Mender if he isn’t. Nothing is going to happen to Declan. I won’t let it.

“Do you–do you remember that day at the lake?” Declan asked him after finishing the water and refusing Finley’s offer of more.

“Lake?” It took Finley a moment to remember the last time they’d been at the lake. The lake was outside of the protective dome so going there at night was unwise at best and that was the only time they’d have gone there since the invasion. But then he cast his mind back farther.  “When we were twelve?”

“Yes, I got so sick, remember? And my parents wouldn’t take me to the doctor though you wanted them to?” Declan’s breathing was coming much more evenly now, but he was still curled into an almost protective ball, twitching away even from the lamplight.

Finley’s brow furrowed, but he finally nodded, “I remember. We were at the lake all day. I had no idea you’d gotten sun poisoning because you didn’t look burned or even tan.”

In fact, Declan’s skin had remained as pale as always, but when they’d gotten back to Declan’s house that night, his best friend had started to sweat and shake profusely much like he had on the walk over to the Dawn. Then he had fallen into a feverish, half-dazed state, thrashing on his bed. Finley had called for Declan’s parents in a panic.

“He needs a doctor! Or the hospital!” Finley had cried out.

But Declan’s parents, while they had reacted swiftly with cold compresses and ice water, hadn’t whisked Declan to the hospital. In fact, they’d been dead set against it.  Their faces showed grim determination. 

“No, Finley, they couldn’t do anything for him that we can’t do here,” Declan’s mother, Alexia, said firmly, tucking a blanket around her shivering and sweating son.  Finley could think of dozens of things a doctor or hospital could do, but she continued,  “He just needs fluids and rest.”

“But he looks…” Finley’s tongue clove to the top of his mouth. Looks like death, he’d wanted to say, but couldn’t form the words. 

“It’s just sun poisoning,” Declan’s father, Tyler, added as he placed a cool compress on Declan’s forehead that stopped his best friend’s thrashing. “Declan will be fine by tomorrow.”

And Declan had been fine the next day almost as if it had never happened. But he’d never spent that much time in the sun like that again. He’d go to the lake, but wear long sleeves and sit in the shade. He would only go swimming when the Sun was nearly down or fully extinguished. 

“Do you think you have sun poisoning again, Declan?” Finley asked as he pulled himself out of the memory.

Yet even as he asked it he knew that sun poisoning would have taken much longer to occur. The walk from their home to the Dawn had taken only fifteen minutes, not to mention that Declan had been mostly covered up for all of it. So it was impossible for Declan to be sick from that. Yet the symptoms were eerily similar. 

“It felt like that. But it happened too fast,” Declan echoed Finley’s earlier thought. “But I wonder…”

“Wonder?”

Declan rubbed his hands over his thighs. He straightened up in the chair, apparently recovered, which had a whoosh of air leaving Finley’s lips and the panicky vise around his chest easing.

Declan explained, “After you went home that night, I overheard my parents talking. They thought I was asleep. Despite what they said to you, they were really scared about me. My mom’s voice sounded strangled when she said to my dad that they’d been foolish to let me go out in the sun for so long. That they’d warned them about this possibility. And what would have happened if they’d had to take me to a doctor?”

“Warned? Who warned them and why?” Finley pieced together.

Declan’s teeth raked over his lower lip as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say what he did next. “Yeah, someone told them that too much sunlight wouldn’t be good for me. As to who, I got the impression that it was the people they adopted me from.”

“From the Ukranian orphanage?” Finley blinked in confusion. 

His best friend had been adopted from a Ukranian orphanage when he was ten-years-old. Declan’s birth parents had died in a car crash and neither had any living relatives so Declan had been sent to a cheerless, desperate institution.  Declan had told him he had no memories of that time or his life before then whatsoever. 

Alexia and Tyler had adopted Declan and brought him back to Lightwell.  Declan’s adoption was also why he hadn’t gone to public school for the first year they’d had him, wanting to teach him English and acclimatize him to life in America.

Declan bobbed his head in assent. “Maybe I showed sun sensitivity before they adopted me. I’ve never liked the sun that much. The night is better.”

Finley’s forehead furrowed. “Why were they worried about taking you to a doctor?”

Declan shrugged. “They were always freaked out about even taking me to get my shots for school.”

Finley’s confusion grew. “So they never talked to a doctor about your sun sensitivity?”

“No, they kept doctor’s visits as short and to the point as possible.”

“Well, that is strange and unfortunate!  You could have been diagnosed by now if they had.”  Finley tapped his lower lip as he considered what might be causing his best friend distress.  “Xeroderma pigmentosum is a genetic disease where ultraviolet rays can cause massive harm, but you would’ve had much worse symptoms than you’ve had if you had that.  I mean, even certain kinds of lightbulbs can harm someone with XP. There’s also something called Sun Lupus, but that results in a skin rash–”

“Of course you know all of this off the top of your head.” Declan smiled at him.

Finley shrugged this time. “I read something once and I can’t forget it. You know how I am.”

“I do and I’m glad for it. But I don’t think I have either of those diseases,” Declan said.

“Likely not, but maybe it’s another kind of disease.”

Declan grimaced. “It doesn’t feel like a disease.” He shook his head.  “I can’t explain it.”

“That’s even more of a reason to get you to a Mender,” Finley suggested gently. “The Menders can cure practically anything.”

Declan stared at him steadily. “How do you think the Sun Elves will react to someone getting sick from sunlight?”

Finley lifted an eyebrow. “I would imagine they would have considerable sympathy.  We can’t sunbathe half as much as they do without risking skin cancer even with them repairing the ozone layer. So they already pity us. To know someone gets sick from the light would make them eager to find a cure.”

“Weren’t you telling me last night about how their ancient foe, the Kindreth–or Night Elves–get sick from exposure to sunlight?” Declan pressed. 

“True, but you aren’t a Night Elf by a long shot!” Finley shook his head and smiled. “No red eyes or white hair that I can see unless you’ve been doing a really good dye job and have colored contacts I don’t know about.”

The Kindreth, ruled by the dread King Vex, were known to have those two very distinctive physical features. Hair colored a silvery white and eyes like glowing red rubies. With Declan’s green eyes and black hair, he definitely couldn’t be mistaken for one. 

Declan lowered his head. “All I’m saying is that people who draw their power from the Sun might wonder about someone who is harmed by it. Especially after…” Declan clenched his teeth for a moment before continuing, “especially after what happened here when the Leviathan broke through. People still ask questions. They still talk about it. They wonder.”

People did wonder how the three of them had survived when no one else had.  Michael and Shonda had only survived, because they’d been away in Washington D.C. when the invasion had started.  Gemma had an aunt staying with her while they were away. Her aunt had not survived. They’d been too late to save her. 

“You were a hero. You were amazing. You prove that humans have magic, Declan,” Finley breathed.

Declan’s green eyes flickered around the bar, trying to make sure that no one overheard them. Especially not that last part. Finley sought to hide his exasperation at Declan’s desire for secrecy about this. His best friend acted like what he’d done was shameful rather than miraculous. Magic was looked upon as something that elevated a species. To not have it when so many other high fantasy beings did was to be considered lesser just like the goblin had said about humans.

“What I did wasn’t magical, Finley,” Declan insisted.

“It was!”

“Only you would think that. The Aravae wouldn’t,” Declan sounded so certain, so firm.

Finley swallowed down the arguments he’d made many times in the past. Declan had never budged on his belief that what he’d done in saving them needed to be kept secret at any cost or dire things would occur. They’d managed to keep that secret for five years. But every time Declan did something like take down nearly half a dozen orcs by himself in a bar fight or disarm a goblin, people started wondering about the past all over again. Would Declan’s secret be able to be kept forever?

Declan touched Finley’s arm. There was a gentle smile on his lips.  “You will be the first human to wield magic that the world will know about. You are the shining star we need. Not me. You. And that will be better for everyone.”

“Finley, what are you thinking about?” Snaglak asked, breaking Finley out of his musings. Snaglak’s black eyes were flickering from the bottom of his almost empty mug to Finley’s face. “You thirsty?”

Finley shook himself and focused on the present again.  Like everyone else, Snaglak didn’t know the truth about Declan’s specialness either despite having seen evidence of it when his best friend had taken out Snaglak’s clan in the most spectacular bar fight ever. 

So he lied, “Oh, about the game, of course. I’ve got to get the Night King just right. Believable, you know?”

Snaglak gave him one of those strangely innocent looks for a being who spent most of his life pulverizing his enemies into a fine paste. “If it’s fun to kill, it won’t matter.”

Finley blinked behind his large, round glasses.“Oh, they won’t be killing King Vex! He’s going to be a big part of the next campaign!”

Snaglak’s brows beetled together. “But I thought the game was over. Big battle. Lots of blood. Tons of treasure. Everyone cheers.”

“Well, yes, and no.” Finley struggled to explain the concept of a cliffhanger to the orc. “The whole idea is that this part of the adventure is finished, but there’s another adventure–a bigger one–just waiting for them if they choose to go forward.”

“Oh, so they come back for more? Give Finley more money to tell stories where they go smash?” Snaglak grinned.

Finley’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s exactly it, Snaglak. You hit the nail on the head.”

“I would kill the nail,” Snaglak muttered. 

Snaglak emptied the few remaining drops of beer into his glass from the pitcher. He looked sorrowfully at both and then meaningfully at Finley again.  Finley ignored that beseeching glance. 

Snaglak wanted him to buy the beer, or rather, have Declan comp it. But Helgrom already let Finley hold his games at the Dawn for free and was generous with the discounts on drinks and snacks for his players. He didn’t want to push that generosity, especially when every drop of liquor was needed with King Aquilan coming to town that day.

“So if Finley does another campaign, Finley no more tries to become mage?” Snaglak asked.

“What? No, of course I’m going to still try and get into the Academy! I don’t study all this lore just for the games, but for the admissions test, too!” Finley protested.

In truth, the D&D games had come out of his study of the lore for the admissions test to Taranth Academy of Magic and the Arcane Arts. Though Michael and Shonda would have happily taken care of all his and Declan’s wants and needs with their salaries as Council Members–and there was, of course, the stipends given to every human by the Empire–both he and Declan had wanted to contribute and be independent. They were not a drain on the economy as that stupid goblin had said!

Not that there were a lot of jobs for humans. It was only because Declan was so unusually capable that he’d even got work as a bartender. So while Finley had been studying for the admissions test, he’d realized he could use that knowledge to make some money too by staging role-playing games.  

At first, it had only been a few regulars at the Dawn who had agreed to give him a couple of coins to play. They had definitely done it out of pity and some amusement to see how badly the human would mess things up.  He was using their races and lore after all to create his game. Getting it right–perfect, in fact–was essential, plus, of course, it had to be entertaining. And somehow, he’d done both successfully. More than successfully.   

It was no longer just Dawn regulars at his gaming table. People came from far and wide to join his games. Now he had to turn people away for lack of space and time. If he got into the Academy–when I get in, he rephrased firmly–he’d have to give up DMing or just do it on weekends. Being the one and only human at the Academy would require him to be twice as good–maybe more than that–as any other student to be taken at all seriously.

“How Finley become mage with no magic?” Snaglak pressed as he rolled the empty mug between his large, clawed hands.

The orc knew the answer to that. He’d heard Finley tell others plenty of times. He was just trying to annoy Finley enough to go get him free beer. But Finley would not give in!

“Just because humans don’t use magic yet doesn’t mean that they can’t. We’ve just never been taught,” Finley explained patiently. 

It would have been so much easier to make Snaglak and everyone else believe humans really could be taught magic if Declan were out about his gifts.  Then again, Declan’s powers weren’t like any other magic out there that he’d seen or read about. Declan’s gifts might be unique to humans or maybe unique only to him.  

Finley continued, “There is nothing about humanity that should rule out magical ability. In fact, there have been loads of examples in history of humans having some kind of magical powers from precognition to telekinesis.”

“But doesn’t magic take a long time to learn?” Snaglak prodded. “And humans die quickly.”

“Well, yes, but that’s because it’s been taught by beings for beings who live forever. But that’s not to say that humans couldn’t pick up magic during a normal mortal lifespan if the pace of instruction was increased,” Finley answered.

Personally, he thought that the Sun Elves simply treated the learning process like they treated everything else in their immortal lives: as if they had all the time in the world. But if their students didn’t have that amount of time, if they were limited to a mere hundred years at best, he was certain that the teaching could be sped up to accommodate short, mortal lives, too.

“Has Finley ever done magic like old humans did?” Snaglak looked up at Finley with big eyes as his cup drifted closer to Finley’s hands.

“N-no, but I haven’t been taught! I mean, I’ve just learned Katyr well enough to read it and… Well, the books haven’t been… I’m sure that if someone just takes the time to teach me, I’ll figure it out!” Finley ended lamely.

The cup sat between them. Empty. Yearning to be filled.

Snaglak pointed out, “Don’t most Aravae use magic before they go to the Acad–”

“Fine, I’ll get your beer!” Finley stood up and glared at Snaglak.

The orc lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Finley. I think you’ll be a great mage. Better than anyone. If you have magic.”

If I have magic. That’s the real question, isn’t it?  Finley thought with a trace of despair. It’s not about desire, but innate ability. Yet, even if I don’t have the ability, it’s an honor to learn about magic. But will that be enough for the Aravae to let me into their greatest academy?

Finley let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, Snaglak. You’re just saying out loud what everyone else only thinks, but is too polite to say. Not that you aren’t being polite, just blunt. Like you always are. And I appreciate that.”

“You very smart. You figure things out for sure. First human to make magic will be you, Finley.” Snaglak grinned at him.

It was interesting to realize that Snaglak didn’t equate what Declan did with magic. Maybe it was because Declan had only shown martial grace, strength and speed rather than throwing fireballs that Snaglak didn’t associate the two. But Michael was pretty sure that the Aravae’s magic was what made them such incredible fighters even when they weren’t wielding the elements, but swords or bows. Finley agreed with him.  

“Thanks. I’ll get your beer, but you really need to pay for the next one, Snaglak,” Finley chided him gently.

“I will, Finley, but my coin purse is light. Not many Leviathan to kill. Separatists only pay per fang brought back,” Snaglak said with a shrug.

The Leviathan were made of darkness without any real physical form at all until they died and left behind a single, huge curved fang, rather like a monstrous viper tooth. It was those that Snaglak and others turned in to get rewards from the humans who chose to live outside the magical shields. Finley was surprised there were any Separatists left alive. But, then again, they’d lived under the Aravae’s magical domes until after most of the threat was eliminated.

“Well, the war with the Leviathan is over so I guess that makes sense,” Finley said as he picked up Snaglak’s cup and pitcher.

“War isn’t over.” Snaglak frowned. “Aravae no go into the Under Dark and burn all the Leviathan nests.”

The skin between Finley’s shoulder blades twitched at the thought of those nests. Sometimes the Leviathan did not drain their prey immediately, but like spiders took them back to their nests to feast on slowly.  Declan feared his father had been one of those, because his body had never been found.

“No, but the Leviathan have realized the Aravae are here now and it’s not safe to come to Earth,” Finley protested. “So they’ll just stay in the Under Dark and leave us alone.”

But Snaglak shook his massive, bald head that was tattooed with thick, black lines in a tribal-like pattern. “Leviathan not scared of Aravae. Only scared of Kindreth. Leviathan come back more than ever. You see. War not over.”

Finley frowned. “I hope you’re wrong, Snaglak.”

Snaglak shrugged. “Without Leviathan, I have to kill goblins for coins. No fun. No challenge.”

Finley snickered as Snaglak gave Strofin–the goblin who had earlier been such a jerk–a nod. Strofin bared his teeth and then went back to his brandy. 

But Finley’s laughter dried up pretty quickly as he thought, The Leviathan were defeated. The thought of those shadowy monsters slithering down Tyrael’s streets again had him shivering. But then he reminded himself that they weren’t unprotected this time. If they try to conquer Earth again, Declan may have to reveal what he can do for all to see.