A Hero of Something Else

Akatha stared at the portrait looming over her. Her amber eyes were sad and longing. Turning away after a moment, she studied the rest of the room. It was filled with portraits, busts, and statues of heroes, the ones people read about in history books. She walked to a picture of a fairy. She wasn't the type of fairy we on earth imagine, small, playful, and pretty. She was a warrior with many scars, and she stood taller than Akatha. She gave her life fighting for justice. Akatha, who fought along side her, did not.

She turned around to her portrait and cringed. She wasn't strong or brave like they thought she was. She was also alive, unlike they thought she was.

A museum guard came through and, frightened, Akatha quickly vanished. The guard felt a slight breeze in the room, but he assumed it was the open window.

Akatha arrived at her new home in the middle of the woods and stood outside the door. She lived on a cliff, and if she walked far enough, she could stare out into the ocean. Her mind always seemed clearer out there. Making the short trek, she listened as the ocean sang below. Looking out at the glorious land, stained gold by the setting sun, she burst into tears and fell on her knees.

"I'm sorry, Reneol," she whispered to her country. "I have been made a hero by the people, but I'm not. I'm a coward and I couldn't help when I needed you most."

She fingered the dirt, and her eyes blurred from tears.

Even the dirt has given more for this country than I.

Silently, a bird, yellow fading to orange, landed beside her, startling Akatha out of her thoughts.

"Shoo," she whispered. She knew it wasn't a real bird, so she tried to push it away. She didn't want to see anyone, and she didn't want anyone to see her.

Before she could get it away, it transformed into an elf, just as she expected.

"Akatha," he breathed, taking her hand. "You are alive!"

He ran to hug her and wept for several minutes.

She said nothing, though she embraced him back.

"Are you well? You are crying," he said as he pulled away. "And you tell me to 'shoo'."

"I know, Verekt," she said. Her voice was cold and joyless.

"But you are a survivor! You did not die, and now you can live as a hero. People do not need to remember you anymore! They can see you in life!"

Akatha turned away. "It's real life," she corrected.

"You are a hero. You are proud."

"Should be. I should be proud," she corrected him again.

"Should be proud," he repeated. "But why are you not?"

Akatha turned to face him.

"You must never tell," she commanded in a low voice.

"I will not."

Akatha trusted him, so she continued.

"I was not the one who killed Yapetha's leader."

There was a long pause.

"Yes, you were. You were to be dead because of it."

"I was supposed to be dead," she corrected again, avoiding eye contact.

He lifted his eyes to hers and commanded her sternly. "Now is not the time to correct me on what I say wrong. Tell me, and I will comfort." He took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

She swallowed a sob and leaned her forehead on his shoulder, wincing, not from physical pain, but emotional pain. He lifted it with his other hand; the other was still holding hers. He needed to see her eyes, to know how she felt. The salty breeze from the ocean whispered around them as the sun sank in the sky. Soon, the evening sky had turned pink.

"Tell me, Akatha. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

She burst into tears and let go of his hand.

"But there is everything to be ashamed of! You don't understand! My assistant, she was the one who did it. My bearer of arms! He had taken ahold of me, and she saw a moment to move. She killed him, not I. I was ashamed, so I disappeared. And she was overcome by his power, and she vanished into dust." She began to sob again.

Verekt took his friend into his arms and held her. His eyes filled with tears as his body shook from her sobs.

"Akatha, Akatha." His voice cracked from folding back tears, and he could speak no longer.

After several minutes, he lifted her head from his chest.

"Akatha, what do you need?"

Akatha frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Do you need to hide, or do you need to tell people of this?"

"I want to hide. It's so... hard to think that I couldn't help, that I couldn't do anything." She dropped her head into her hands. Her face was wet from the tears, but she did not dry them.

Verekt smiled and laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" Her voice rose and her pale face colored.

Verekt saw her fists beginning to curl, so he quickly said, "You do not see what you do so much."

"That I have done so much."

"Now is not the time," he frowned. "I already said so."

"But, they have given me credit for saving the country, when I didn't!" She drew her hand over her face and began to cry once again.

"But you came close, Akatha! You came close! And you did not run from our fight! You were brave and strong woman."

He pulled her hand away from her face to see if she understood. As she studied his deep brown eyes, she saw them fill with tears.

"You do not give credit to yourself. If it were... shameful, you would ran away. You did not. You came to Grenchev and fought him, even though he stopped you. He is strong and powerful with much - I am losing what I am thinking of... ability to hurt you, I think that's how you say it. But in suffering and to you, losing, you made way for victory." He paused for a long time, sitting cross-legged and staring at Akatha.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," he whispered, taking her hands.

Akatha took a deep breath and wiped away her tears.

"I think that you're right. But I was so close."

"And that is what makes you a hero, silly," he laughed again, though tears were still in his eyes.

Akatha smiled and sniffled. She leaned in closely and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder. After pulling away, they both stood, tears staining their faces, but smiles in their eyes. A sudden rush came upon Akatha, and she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek, then on the lips. Pulling away with a red face, she glanced up at him, scared to see what he thought.

He only smiled and kissed her back.

"Come back home to us," he whispered. "And make it right to them."

Akatha nodded, seized his hands as tightly as she could, and vanished. The rush of the magic lingered as they landed in the capital of Reneol, Amankashav. As they approached the capitol building, people began to cheer. Many recognized the hero, who had been missing for months. Akatha's face paled and felt tears rush to her eyes, but Verekt squeezed her hand.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, and the people deserve the truth."

Several officials began to emerge from the building, curious about the cheers. Their smiles lit up their faces as they saw their hero. It was almost too much for poor Akatha to bear, but she continued on, partially prodded by Verekt.

The Ruler, Encendect Remblish, appeared last after several people ran to tell him the good news. A kind and gentle woman emerged from the glassy palace, face brighter than diamonds. Here was the Ruler, and Akatha knelt as she approached.

"Daughter of Reneol, hero of the same!" she cried joyfully, pulling her to her feet, but before she could continue, Akatha interrupted.

"Your majesty, my past has deceived you. It would be my delight to take these praises as my own-" she paused as Encendect cocked her head, confused.

"-But I was stopped by Grenchev. I could not kill him, rather, he almost killed me." She fumbled as tears clouded her vision and stopped her words.

"The true hero," she said, loudly as she could, "is Derilyn Greethe, my bearer of arms." She lifted her head.

"I may not be the hero you think I am, but it is more important that the life who was truly lost-" her voice broke again, "is rightfully honored."

After a moment of partial disappointment, Encendect took her hands and smiled. "Your honesty comes from a heart of a true hero," she said, wiping a tear from Akatha's face. "And you must never be ashamed of your efforts. No matter who killed Grenchev, I declare you a hero of Reneol, because your heart had not only the courage to fight, but to tell the truth as well."

This short speech was followed by an unexpected, and tender, hug.

The audience cheered as Encendect made her announcement that evening. Many rushed to Akatha, crying tears of joy. She had survived! Still more came and thanked her with a tender enthusiasm that made Akatha cry. A couple with a teen-age son approached her late in the night.

"We are Derilyn's parents," the woman said. She began to sob as she approached Akatha. She timidly gave her a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For telling the truth. We didn't know where she was, or what had happened." She pulled away with tears in her eyes. "But now we know."

Akatha's eyes flooded with tears. Unashamed, she let them fall down her face as she wept with Derilyn's family.

"She was a true warrior, and a truer friend," Akatha managed to say.

Several months later, Akatha visited the museum again. Her portrait still hung, but beside it, Derilyn's hung as well, surrounded by flowers and made with love. She smiled, knowing they had received the credit they both deserved.