Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 13 The Night

It had been years since she felt such pain in her body. Such a long time since she had seen violence or battle. Ever since she had settled herself away from life on the battlefield, tending to her children and land with her husband, she had become at least a bit of contempt with her life. After so long, she no longer worries about the threats over the wall, whether human or inhuman. But now, she feels foolish in believing that this life could remain as it was. Even as she opened her eyes, staring at a blank wooden ceiling and beams, all she could think about were those events playing back in her head.

The first thing she remembered was sensing her son's presence leaving the town and move out towards the forest. Her first instinct then was immediately to run after him, the same motherly instinct that she had become accustomed to and had undoubtedly saved her children time and time again. Yet, she told herself that she should not need to worry about Lyse. He was a man now, no longer that boy who cut himself on kitchen knives playing with his friend or running out only to encounter a venomous snake she swiftly had to kill. He was a promising knight, as he always wanted to be. He won't need her, just like his father, who also dreamed beyond the very same field for the very same goal. And maybe that is why they allowed him to train. Who knows what he may turn into being only a farmer. He had given his life over for protecting them, much as that pained her to admit, and he carried the sword of the empire with pride.

She took a resigned sigh, watching him disappear into the forest from her window. Wilbur was already sleeping, although lightly. They wanted to get their rest for the banquet tomorrow, but hey were both understandably restless. She has never known the man to ever really relaxed. Even on some of the autumn days of the years before, he always had that stiffness in his eyes as if he foresaw something terrible and wished to prepare. He never even snored. She had heard complaints talking with the other wives of the village of their husbands snoring, although she had only wondered what it was like. She guessed that even the slightest pat would stir him immediately. He kept a sword under the bed. Not his sword, of which he became a knight, but a simple arming sword he had the blacksmith made. Simple home defense.  But they did not realize how it would be used that very night, as she laid beside him, placing an arm under his own and her head on his shoulder. He stirred then, most likely awake but made no motion.

     "Do you think he'll past the test?" She asked him.

     "Depends," he said. "If James planning it, I wouldn't worry. But any of the Paladins . . ."

      "He could die," she said quietly. "I hear it all the time how many fail the test or lose their lives. What if he does in there."

     "Celia," he turned around in bed so that they were face to face. "You know Lyse is better than that. He's our son, and he's much better than I was at his age. I'm sure that he will do just fine. And whether he wins or fail, we will be there with him."

But then, she felt a significant presence suddenly swarm the house. It was so strong that it brought her awareness at that moment, Wilbur as well. They stayed motionless as they felt them rush towards the house. Twenty, thirty, forty. Forty-five men. Their eyes widened as Wilbur immediately grabbed his blade and unsheathed it silently. She turned to him with a wide-eyed look.

Lyse is in the forest, she mouthed, and he gave a stern look and a nod. He opened the door and crept immediately to their daughter's room, shaking her awake carefully. From their room, she heard Massua give a startling squeal that was immediately silenced. In the meantime, she tore open the small door beneath the rug leading into a chest built in between the floors. Within lay a pair of gauntlets embroidered in gold and silver, each finger tipped in long iron claws as sharp as razors. She froze, looking at them, and suddenly began to remember the heavy scent of blood after every battle, her heart thumping and sweating. She seemed unlike herself at that moment, almost afraid to put them all. And she was so tangled within herself that she faltered when a dark figure crashed into the very room. He must have leaped from outside straight here, coming to a roll with a curved sword in hand aimed at her throat. She started away, but there was no way that she could dodge it this close.