Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 2 The Warrior

The White Winds, the so scoundrels of the borders, had been utterly defeated in the minor skirmish of Munstud. Nevertheless, at the same time, heavy casualties amongst civilians were sustained through the efforts of the newly established princes of Liontari and men on winged white horses. Thus, the dreaded Frostlandian army has lost one of its many elegant legs.

   Lyse was sitting near the gates that had been smashed in by the initial attack. The distinct hard ice that covered the ground here would take days to melt entirely. He had heard legends of some hyperboreans that could produce ice that could never melt, but with the slickness, he observed that appeared not to be the case here. That was, of course, a good thing. At least the townspeople could collect their dead that had been frozen solid where they stood. The raiders even took to smashing a few of these concrete statues, leaving them in red pieces littering the ground. Overall, the town has lost over a quarter of its population and will need immediate aid from the nearest resources. If they had gotten there just a few minutes earlier, they could have perhaps saved a lot more. That was all Lyse thought of as he looked to the town guard slamming their weapons into the ice, men, and women coming to smoldering homes and their dead kin. This war has been going on for years now. And as time went on, Lyse felt it was his part to end it as soon as possible.

"Feeling all right, brother?" Edlund was suddenly beside him. That hammer that he procured from Hephaestus suited him quite well. Of course, the thing was ridiculously unwieldy for any regular person ever to wield, much less pick up, but of course, with the impressive strength of a knight, Edlund managed just fine. He smiled at Lyse, almost as heavy as his weapon. That haggard look on Edlund, he rarely saw it. It's like he had aged so much in the day. Lyse wondered what his smile looked like to Edlund. But, with all that had transpired but one that Lyse was glad to see. He took another sip of water from his flask before offering it to him.

"No, thank you," he said, taking out a smaller flask. "I got my coping mechanisms."

"How did you get wine to the peaks?" Lyse asked him.

"Oh, there are ways, brother. You just need to know how to ask. Or better, whom to ask."

He turned and nodded not so subtly at one of the Poltear, the honor guards of the summit of the sacred mountains of Silondras. Usually, they are happy guarding the strange and wonderous little town they had just left. They were odd. The winged horses, pegasus as Lyse and Edlund learned to call them, were a strange enough sight. Like knights, their helmets were eyeless. And by the way, they fight, they all have at least some training with avra. But after nearly half a year of activity there, he knows so little of these people. The specific one that Edlund indicated to was the captain of this squad that Lyse had to convince to aid them. He was not that much older than them and always gave off a very stern look whenever Lyse saw him. But, according to Edlund, the captain was quite the talker under the right kinds of drinks. He approached them, helmet under one hand and riding upon the white steed. They were preparing to leave now that the Poltear deeds were done.

"How fortunate we made it in time," he said to them. "We left you with two of our great steeds, a gift from him. Also, if I may inquire, how did you know that there would be an attack here of all places, Lyse?"

"Just a guess," he said, though it was a deflection outright. How can one explain that god powers told him where they would end up? Lyse had just heard of some raids occurring in the area, and somehow the pendant took this and implanted in his mind the most likely places they would attack would be Munstud. It felt like a hunch, but Lyse knew it meant far more than that. His bond with the pendant continued to grow. And its applications continued to expand before him, filling him with knowledge and skills he himself discovers almost at random. He wonders how much of him is still him. after all of this. How much of him is simply the influence of the pendant.