Spero's Adventure (Fantasy/Romance/Action Story)

On Dalor, the sky blazed a brilliant blue, the glistening maroon flowers on the vast length of sandy terrain, swayed in the breeze like a wave of never ending beauty, even the most hardened of souls would be stunned into silence by the sight of them. Despite this, the thick blanket of living fog still seemed to want to consume everything, stirring the sand up into big blasts of yellow dust. The slithering tentacles of black, emptiness enveloping everything. The brownish red flowers struggled against the fog before shrivelling and dying, as if even the sheer presence of its might intimidated the flowers into giving up all will to live and forcing them into terminating themselves.
But this time was different than the last. It was denser, darker, larger and it reeked of death. Even though the nearest village; Spero's village, was at least ninety miles away, they could still smell the repulsive stench of decomposition and see the black fumes rising from the toxic cloud.
It was only a matter of time before it came to destroy everything: the flowers, the trees, the villages, the people... and only Spero could stop it.


Twenty years before hand...

"It's a boy!" Exclaimed Rona, the tribe's nurse.
"Oh my! A son Ollie, a son." Carla Salvador whispered breathlessly, glancing at her youthful husband. "We always wanted a son"
The tall, masculine, dark, handsome man in the doorway spoke "Yes my darling, and now we are blessed with one. What are we going to call him?"
"Spero" She said simply, already having her mind made up.
"Spero Salvador. Well thought of darling. Spero is Latin for hope is it not? Our new son... Our new Spero..." A small smile spread across the face of the new father.
"Ok, let me take Spero so I can get him all cleaned up" the nurse told Carla. Carla handed over her tiny, tanned, chocolate eyed son, feeling the light weight lift from her chest and with heavy eyes, she drifted off to sleep.

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Ollie sat and looked out across the horizon, now tinted a golden brown as the two orange suns set. He directed his gaze back down at his sleeping son on the hammock that Ollie had brought Spero for his recently past fourth birthday. Spero's chest rose and fell in rhythmic beats of three; his gentle breathing and slight sighs were rather hypnotic at that time of day. Nothing stirred in the spacey hut which consisted of: a small but sufficient and clean bathroom; an artsy, brown bedroom holding a bouncy double bed, a cupboard, a wobbly, worn chair and a small shack window (a hole in the wall - which is what all the windows were); a smaller bedroom, with a cosy single bed, a toy box and a mahogany chest of draws, on top of which was a dim desk light. Also there was a pollen coloured dining room, with a home-made wooden table and enough chairs for four, conjoined to a simple yet homey kitchen.
Then to the back of the hut there was a sitting room that housed a comfy loveseat, an oak oval coffee table, a decent sized stack of dusty books and patio doors that led to a sandy garden filled with exotic shrubs and flowers. A real sun-trap. The garden was miniscule compared to some of the other larger gardens but, surrounded by a low fence, with the net hammock and a large, padded bench to sit on and watch the suns light up the many stained-glass chimes hanging from two bushy, violet trees, shining brilliant shades of blue and red, green and purple, it was one sight that could take your breath away on even the most terrible of days. That particular day, sitting on the bench and hearing the heavenly sweet sound of the chimes swinging in the breeze, the notes fluttering around his ears just gently alerting his senses, was definitely one of those days.

Ollie had been thinking back, while quietly watching his sleeping son, to exactly one year ago, to the day his wife finally lost a battle with an unknown deadly disease. Clara had fallen dreadfully ill a few months after the birth of Spero, constantly coughing and sweating, falling in and out of consciousness, muttering inanely. Not only that, but she start to suffer severe mood swings and when that happened everything was affected. For instance, one day when she became overly emotional and was crying for hours on end for no particular reason, the sinks and shower all started to leak and the clouds above the village thickened and it began to drizzle, but Ollie had just dismissed it for coincidence, although when she stopped crying, surely enough, everything else returned to how it had been.
The particular day that Ollie was thinking back to, when Spero was almost one, Clara seemed fine, as if the illness had just been a figure of his imagination, and they spent the first proper family orientated day together that they had managed to spend in 5 months. Later that night, when Ollie and Clara had tucked Spero up safely in his favourite blankets in his pleasant cot and kissed him goodnight, they too made their way up to bed. Ollie had never seen Clara look so stunning. She was positively glowing with life and beauty, half asleep, taking deep, peaceful breaths; Spero had the exactly same look when he was sleeping as Clara did, even though Spero looked the spiting image of his father appearance wise.
Ollie had been playing with Clara's tresses of ashen blonde hair when she woke and looked at him with her big blue-gray eyes and thick black lashes. They laid in comforting silence for a while, as if they both knew it would be the last silence they would share with each other. Clara spoke, her placid, heavenly voice carried around the blackened bedroom, covering the pleasant silence for a while "Ollie?" she said, almost in a whisper.
Ollie stopped fiddling with a strand of her hair and looked her in the eyes, like looking into a bottomless enchanting abyss. "Yes my dear."
"I love you... and Spero." The silence enveloped them again. "I want you to take care of our son; there is something extremely special about him. One day he will be powerful, so powerful..." with that Clara arched her head up to Ollie's face as he was laying on his side, propped up on one, firm elbow, looking down at his wife, and she planted a soft kiss on his dark forehead. He blinked his chocolate brown, almost black eyes with a frown creasing on his brow.
"I love you too," was all Ollie managed to eventually splutter out.
Clara smiled, her pearly white teeth glinting as a ray of moonlight seeped in through the window; Spero had her stunning smile... Then Clara closed her eyes and fell back to sleep, but this sleep she would never wake from. Ollie felt a tear roll down his cheek, but Ollie had always been a strong man and crying was not something he would easily admit to, yet alone be proud of. He held Clara's hand in his and rested his head against hers, but in the space of five minutes, the heat had already left her tiny, fragile body. So, Ollie swung his legs out of the bed and got up, he had things to arrange, things to tell, secrets to keep and it was going to be one long night.

Ollie snapped out of deep thought and walked the short distance to his son, lifted him effortlessly from the hammock and carried him to his son's bedroom. He wrapped him up tightly in bed, as if he was afraid he might fall out and seriously hurt himself, then kissed his head before muttering "I love you too..."
Ollie made his way over to the sink, dragging his feet as if they were lead weights he was tired of having to carry around with him. He poured a glass of freezing cold water from the rattling tap and then drank it all in a few gulps, the coldness stabbing at his throat like icy daggers. Ollie had always loved silence, that's why he was happy he had met Clara; they were just as joyful when sitting in silence together as with talking together, it gave them time to think about their future, but the dreams of that future were lost now. Ollie still did love silence, but he loathed it as well, it allowed his mind to wander back onto painful memories that he would much rather forget. He was twenty seven, a healthy, fit man, six foot six and weighed just over thirteen and a half stone, with a four year old son and the rest of his life ahead of him; it seemed an awful long time to live. Ollie stumbled towards the sofa and collapsed onto it, lying on his back, staring up at the cream ceiling with wooden beams that ran along the length of the room. He could hear the faint sound of footsteps on the sandy ground, where occasional tufts of grass grew. Most of the Unify tribe, the tribe in which Ollie was part of, were probably sat with their families inside their huts, tucking their children in and getting ready to relax, but Ollie was always on alert, as if someone would burst in at any moment to take his son away from him. As the last slither of light from the suns disappeared, Ollie decided he would try to get to sleep as he had only been able to grab the odd hour or two this month and it was killing him.

"Spero... You know that you are not supposed to fight at your survival skills school. You promised that if you could go to survival school instead of the mainstream school you would behave. I've had to work twice as much to pay for your placement and this is how you repay me?" Ollie asked his son, the tone of disapproval clear in his voice, he was holding a dirty shovel, as he had been planting some black flowers under the violet trees; the flowers had been Clara's favourite, they smelt lightly of honey, looked similar to lilies and had a purplish sheen to them when the sunlight hit the petals.
Spero stopped kicking at the floor and brushed a lock of his thick, chin length, dark brown hair, which had been hanging in front of his face, behind his left ear and looked slowly up at his father. "It was Rolam's fault." Spero said in his raspy voice, he hoped when his voice had finished breaking that the raspy quality would go away. Rolam was the school bully who was bent on winding up Spero and was probably so cruel due the fact that his parents spoiled him.
"Oh, it was Rolam's fault that you punched him was it? What has happened to you Spero? You used to behave so excellently, and do so well in school...' Ollie sighed.
"I still do well in school, it's just that people like Rolam come waltzing in like they own the place and start on you." Spero resumed kicking the floor and shifted his gaze over to the hammock that he hadn't used for years.
"What did he do to insult you? You're a good looking lad, you have a decent amount of friends, and you have pleasant things. So what is there that he could say to insult you?"
"He called Mum a prostitute and said she died as a punishment for being a slut..." Spero blurted out.
"Oh Reo, you know that isn't true. You just have to ignore people like that, they are just trying to pick a fight and the last thing you want to do is give them one." Ollie called Spero 'Reo' for short, and eventually his friends had started to as well.
"I broke his nose," Spero admitted, still looking intently at the floor as if he had spotted something intensely interesting. It was a hot day and both of the suns seemed to be boring down on him, the sweat running in droplets down his face and dripping down the firmly toned muscles on his arms and legs. He was only wearing a loose white top and a pair of combat green shorts and yet he was still burning up.
"Reo, can you at least promise me you won't do it again?"
Spero's chocolate brown eyes shot right up to his dad's face. He looked his father in the eyes and a menacing look overcame Spero's face "I can't promise that." He told Ollie.
"Then don't blame me when you get kicked out of school" Ollie muttered before starting to carry on with planting the flowers. Spero looked at his father for a moment longer before skulking off into the house and out the front door to blow off some steam.

A week later on a luxuriously warm, but not too hot day, Spero ran into Rolam Horris. Rolam was massive: six foot two, two inches taller than Spero, with short, curly, dusty brown hair; almost fifteen stone due to his obsessive eating and he was overly spotty.
"Oi, look what we have here boys!" Rolam called to the two other boys beside him. Both of the boys were half the size of him and they were utterly repellent.
Spero was whistling to himself whilst sitting on a bench in a secluded shrub-filled park, which normally would be empty apart from him, so Rolam must have been looking for him deliberately as he never came down there. Spero stopped mid whistle and looked up from the bench at Rolam. No expression crossed his face, he did not seem surprised, fearful, angry or even nervous to see him standing there, towering above him. "What do you want?" Spero asked hoarsely.
"What do I want?" Rolam laughed. "What do I want boys?"
"To get Spero back because he broke your nose." The greasy, high-pitched boys said in unison, like a pair of badly programmed robots.
"Well done, you actually paid attention for once" Rolam sarcastically applauded his followers. Whilst this was going on, Spero had spotted a smooth grey rock lying next to the bench and had picked it up, feeling the sleek, cold, polished stone in his hand, completely ignoring Rolam in fear of being kicked out of school. He figured that if he didn't rise to the bait they would leave him alone, but that wasn't going to be the case this time.
"Stand up freak; you're the only one in this village who doesn't know their mother, and that's why you are such a weirdo." Although this seemed cruel, it was true. Illness was a rare thing in their tribe and the Unify tribe was very family orientated, and divorces only happened once in a blue moon.
Spero rose from the bench slowly, clenching his fist around the stone as if it were his only treasured possession. "I don't want a fight" Spero told Rolam.
"You should have thought about that before breaking my nose then. Hadn't ya?" Spat Rolam, stubbing a fat finger right into the middle of Spero's chest.
Spero blinked sluggishly, as if he was deliberately trying to display his utter boredom of the one sided conversation.

A minute passed and with no response from Spero, one of Rolam's followers spoke, the shorter one to his right, who was about five foot five with terrible fitting clothes and a foul odour. "Yea Spero," he dragged the name out as if rolling the word around his mouth, getting a feel for how it sounded "what's with that stupid ponytail anyway?" With that, the boy swiftly stretched up and pulled a length of string from Spero's hair. Spero had forgotten he had tied back his glossy brown hair with string to form a miniscule ponytail. However, this did not phase Spero one bit; he just ran his long, thin, tanned fingers through his hair until it hung loosely around his face like usual.
Then, as if both of the boys were thinking the same thing, the shortest one grabbed Spero's left arm while the other grabbed his right, but Spero still made no movement, he just stood there and looked Rolam square in the eyes and Rolam struggled to hold the gaze; he was not one for mind games. Rolam looked more nervous than Spero did, but Spero was feeling worse inside, his gut was eating away at him. The sun broke through the trees and Spero could feel himself burning up. Rolam took a swipe at Spero and caught him in the side of the stomach. Spero almost keeled over, but instead just fell forwards, he was still being held up by the two boys. "Like that do ya?" asked Rolam, giggling to himself. "Wanna have some more?" Then another series of punches followed, knocking the wind from Spero. Spero then fell onto the floor, pain arching through his spine when the boys let go of his arms...

Whilst the boys joined in with kicking sand in his eyes and booting his rib cage, Spero held onto that stone as if it was some last kind of hope. One blow to his rib cage made him splutter and with his free hand he caught the cough. Lying on his stomach on the hot, gritty ground, he looked into his hand, and surely enough, a thin line of blood was spread along his palm. They must have broken one of his ribs, if he didn't do something soon he might not live to see his fifteenth birthday.

Spero suddenly felt heat surge through his body and he began to shake uncontrollably as the stone that was in his hand turned to liquid and started to seep out of the cracks in his fist. Rolam noticed him shaking and commanded for his followers to stop for a second. "Oh look! Poor little Spero is crying, he does have emotions after all." Rolam leered while Spero had his face buried in his arms.
The boys stood and watched until Spero eventually started to lift his head up to look at them.
Spero wasn't crying, far from it. His face was a mask of pity, as if he was watching them being beaten up... then they noticed his eyes. Spero's dark brown eyes had a stream of red swirling through them, as if blood had escaped into his iris and was roaming around freely. Spero clambered to his feet, ignoring the pain rippling through every part of his body and he could hear the faded sound of feet running, but it seemed worlds away. Spero grabbed Rolam by the arms and the boys watched in surprise as Rolam screamed out in agony "OW! You're burning me!" Rolam screamed, his face creasing up. Spero let go and where he had been holding onto Rolam's arms, giant burns in the shape of his hands were imprinted into his skin, but Spero didn't seem to notice.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Rolam shouted. Rolam made a move at Spero again but was blocked by a boy that was lit up by the sun shining behind them. It was Ash Ditanio, a sixteen year old who was training to be a craftsman in their tribe and was the most accomplished person his age, and older, with a knife. He was six foot and would likely grow no more, but he was strong due to all the tasks he carried out in their village. He was tanned of skin, like many of the village's inhabitants, but he had soft features with one striking brown eye and another strange yet drawing forest-like green eye, both with an amber tinge to them. He had wonderfully wavy, ebony black, shoulder-length hair with matching black, bushy eyebrows. He had a long scar narrowly missing his right eye, running along his cheekbone and finishing on the top of his lip and a few others trailing across his neck and right eyebrow from when he tried to stop a knife fight a few years previous.
"Haven't you done enough damage for one day Rolam?" Ash asked, but addressing the other two boys as well. The boys looked away and Rolam was the only one to keep facing him, before eventually turning away and walking back into the distance and funnily enough, the boy who spoken the least, the shadiest looking one, was the last to turn around and walk away. Their figures became more hazy and undistinguished as they retreated.

When Rolam and his followers were out of sight Ash turned to Spero. He put his rough hands, the hands of a craftsman, up to touch Spero's bruised and bleeding face but took his hand away just as quickly to look down at his red, scorched finger tips. "Not to sound silly, but you are literally on fire." Ash Laughed. "Sometimes boys like that need to learn the hard way, but you sure showed them, hey?"
Spero managed a smile. He knew Ash for his reputation of being the peacekeeper, but had never really talked to him before this point and he seemed nice enough.
Ash took Spero back home to his dad, having to carry him half the way when Spero's legs collapsed from fatigue. Once home Ash told Ollie half the truth and the medics were called who attended to Spero's wounds. The two other boys went home to their families and Rolam went back to his and hid the burns from his parents. No one involved in the day's events ever spoke of it again...