The Son of a Hero

(Glossary included at the end)

I am a shadow within a shadow.

Dusk pondered over the words he’d scribbled in the margins of his worksheet. The stone pulp of the paper had absorbed the ink of his idle hand easily enough, but now he was having trouble absorbing it into his brain. What had he just done? He’d been starting to draw something–a stick figure, maybe, of an Ortuxan with a sword. Or one with a spear. But what had flowed from the ink was instead a picture of a different kind; one that he hadn’t learned from–

“Duskauger,” said a voice from the front of the classroom.

Rau damn it. Dusk groaned, rolling his eyes. Why did his father have to give him a last name? No one on Ortuxia had last names. “It’s just Dusk,” he said.

“Justdusk,” the teacher said, her whiskers flicking in amusement. “Perhaps you’d like to come up and correct this equation for your sister.”

He looked up, catching Dawn’s eyes. The calico had her ears tipped back, and scowled indignantly back at him.

“Or you could tell her how she did it wrong without comparing her to someone she isn’t,” Dusk said, returning back to his worksheet.

There was a murmur from their fellow students. He went back to tapping the end of his pen against the desk, intending to resume writing whatever it was he’d suddenly dredged up. Unfortunately, it seemed, the teacher had him in her sights now.

He could practically smell the flames rising off the teacher’s words as she spoke. “Young tom, are you talking back?”

“No, just offering an alternative.” A shadow within a shadow, no acclaim to my name. More words, taking up residence in the margins as if they had just paid the rent for the next six years.

The murmur rose. A couple of his fellow students were snickering. Probably muttering something about how his perr was going to react. He couldn’t care less what his perr thought about what he said in class, though.

“I’ll ask you once again to come up to the board and correct this equation.”

He sighed, looking flatly up at her. Whatever he was doing, he supposed it would have to wait. Clearly the words would come later, since they were so easily spilling out of him now.

*

They did not come later.

Dusk had transcribed the beginning of his poem from the margins of his worksheet to a fresh new paper, the worksheet itself having been turned in for grading. He tapped the end of his scratch stick onto the page, scowling to himself.

The words were true enough, but weren’t poems supposed to be longer? And rhyme? Where had that spark of inspiration gone? Where had it come from in the first place? What did the words even mean?

“Dusk!” called a voice that made him groan.

Daybreak. Perr. Or, as Dawn called him, using the Earthan words carried down from their grandfather Owen, “Dad”.

“What?” he growled back.

“Dinner.” The voice was closer now, just outside his door. He scowled, imagining his father on the other side. He often wondered if that cybernetic eye could peer in through the door, see what he was doing. The prospect alone made his blood boil. “Your grandperr’s made…uh…paw-stuh?”

Rau, give me strength, he thought, shaking his head. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m working on something.”

There was silence outside the door, then a sigh. “I’ll knock again in ten.” Then a shuffling of footsteps away from the door.

Silence again. Dusk breathed in, put stick to stone, and began to write.

I am naught but a trophy, steeped in woe,

Take solace in solitude and have no one to blame.

He pondered that for a moment, then scowled. The violet iris of Perr’s robotic eye flashed in his mind, and he turned the scratch stick around to erase one word.

There. That was perfect. He held up the page, reading over the four lines. A little clumsy, but he thought he had something here. Something he could work on. Maybe he could work with Rossco and turn it into the beginnings of a song. Or he could keep it to himself, have this be his little secret.

I am a shadow within a shadow.

No acclaim to my name.

Naught but a trophy steeped in woe,

Take my solace in solitude and have one to blame.

“Dusk?”

He sighed, though with a little less animosity as he recognized the voice of his sister on the other side of the door. “Dad wants to know if you’re coming down.”

“In a minute. I thought he said he’d be back in ten,” he said, getting up. “Door’s open.”

The door squeaked open, and Dawn leaned against the doorframe, whiskers flared in curiosity. “It’s been twenty. You should try Grandpa’s basketti, it’s really good. Even if he says it’s the wrong color.”

He snorted. “That can’t be the right word.”

“What’re you working on?” she asked, stepping into the room even as he got up from his desk.

He grinned and passed her the paper, waiting with bated breath for her response. Sure, he could keep this his little secret…but any secret he had, he usually shared with Dawn. She got twin privileges.

She cocked her head, intrigued, as she passed the paper back. “Is this about Dad?” she asked.

“Is it that obvious?” A tongue of doubt flared in his chest.

“‘A shadow within a shadow’,” she said. “You’re both Rauchiæ.

“Well…yeah…”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell him, and even if I did you probably wouldn’t get in trouble,” she said, punching his arm. “But you should probably eat. Come on. I’m trying to make nice so I can go out with permission later.”

He chuckled and placed the paper down on his desk, reading it over one more time before flipping it over. It was no sonnet, but it was the start of something, he thought.

Something that was all his.

Glossary:

-Ortuxan (or-TUX-uhn): Inhabitant of the planet Ortuxia, largely populated by anthropomorphized felines.

-Perr (PURR, literally “purr” the “rr”): Dad/Father

-Rau (r-OW): Moon god

-Rauchiæ (r-OW-chee-ah): Shadow magic user.