Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 9 The Siren's Bridge

Lyse awoke to the sounds of shuffling and clanging as everyone prepared themselves around him. It was more than jarring, his senses seemingly not his own as he nearly jumped to his feet from the sudden awakening. His skin crawled around him, the cold sensation that was this otherworldly encounter suddenly replaced by the damp reality of this dungeon. As his eyes slowly recovered, his ears still ranged with the last words spoken to him by this goddess. The promise he made, and the objective, freshly laid before him now, he will have to embark on a quest, so it seemed. But to save his sister, above all else, is in the center of this massive storm of thought, trapped for now as a hostage of unknown purpose. And he will have to start here. These thoughts ran through his mind in just a breath.

Edlund watched as Lyse rose, faster than he initially thought he would. "A bit spry, aren't you? Couldn't get a whiff of sleep on bare rock."

"We have to keep moving," Lyse ignored his thought-out comment, which made him a bit meddlesome of what he dreamed about. Everyone was now placing their armor back on their person, Gray in his gambison and Elena in her plated armor. While both hurried to put whatever they had together, Lyse was ready in mere moments, his leather bracers secured, his gambison properly tied and stiff. His holster belted, and his sword sheathed.

"Well, all he needs now is a bard to narrate," Edlund sighed, putting in the last button on his gambeson.

"We have to move quickly now," Lyse said. Who knows where everyone is in this dungeon. No doubt Dagmyre has made significant head already."

"He may be a hothead, but you must not mistake him for a fool," Elena said. "He would have rested as well. However, he would have slept a lot less than we have if he is so eager to get to these relics before anyone else."

"Then we'll just have to cover twice the distance, right?" Gray asked.

"Much easier said than done," Lyse sighed. "Who knows what will be waiting for us next."

Edlund sheathed the blade he took from the corpse, which was now piled upon others in the corner. "If our luck proceeds us, it'll be something serpent-like. I'd be a bit disappointed if it wasn't, at least."

"We're wasting time standing here then," Lyse began walking towards the exit. They all followed accordingly. Edlund couldn't precisely put his mind on it, but he thought that Lyse functioned better in these kinds of situations. What that said about his mind was beyond him, but a leader seems to be apparent in his brother. And all this time, he thought he was always the one to come up with the schemes. Even the way he threatened Dagmyre proved how quickly he could act. The Fire Serpent, the Lamia. Both were unlike anything they faced. He's not the sharpest of swords, but he is always able to defend himself at least, confident in what he got. However, it was much different than anything else. He was at least glad that Lyse was there with him and hoped they could get out of this place to achieve what they wanted. But so far, he is not so hopeful of this place easing upon them or on their minds. He still pictures that man screaming in terror, disappearing into the void darkness of this dungeon to be swallowed whole. And e is disturbed if that could be him in the next two minutes—all of them.

Darkness once again swallowed them, and they could barely see their hands before them. Not too deep in, Lyse once again alighted his sword, staying ahead of someone else and continuing as the beacon. Gray constantly looked over his shoulder, waiting for some inhuman creature to come from the wall. Anything. But nothing did, and that only made his skin crawl. Like all the fables, he heard of parties being picked off one by one until one hero remained to finish the mission. He knows he doesn't want to be that unfortunate soul who will be picked off first without the others knowing it. What a gruesome and pitiful death that would be. Most likely one that many have faced already. His father, while not the more adventurous of men, certainly was no weakling. A forgehardens the softest of men. And working in the forge makes you acutely aware of how deadly some monsters genuinely are. He has seen some Red Serpent scales before, although barely a handful. They were barely able to fashion a sword out of it. Half of their men died, six in total, just for a handful. Over a year ago, there were some recovered swords from a party attacked by a tribe of Lamia out near the eastern mountains. Only two members survived, bringing back their companion's swords and mournful faces. He could only guess then whatever horror they must have witnessed, but now it is more than apparent. He wondered what was running through Elena's head now. She was probably the most battle-ridden of them all. But he doubts she's any more on solid rock than himself.