The Awakening

Chapter 2

"Trust is a dangerous game."

- The Awakening

~*~

Chapter 2

A soft, light bedding was what Saskia felt when she felt herself waken. A warm burrow that cocooned her comfortably, a feeling she hadn't quite gotten accustomed to. She was used to the hard and rocky surface of the forest floors or the hardened bark at her back as she slept amongst the security of the canopy of trees. She could hear soft murmurs around her but she could not yet open her eyes; they were glued shut with exhaustion. She felt nothing when she woke, no pain and certainly no thirst--something she had been opposing for days. And while she felt more secure than she had felt in a long, long time, there was a feeling of urgency that was propelling her to wake up. A niggling reminder at the back of her mind that was urging her to wake, otherwise it would be too late.

Her consciousness swam in and out, the murmurs fading into nothing until she came to once again. It was like being underwater, a symphony of voices low and distorted, fading in and out, in and out...How long had she been asleep? She wondered. She willed her body to move and beseeched her eyes to open so she could find what she came for. But no number of pleas reaped sympathy from her body, for it had betrayed her for an unnecessary amount of sleep and rest. It was as if she had become trapped, bound by some unseeable force. She had no clue as to how long it had been when she could finally open her eyes, the light blinding her with a short burst of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them slowly, allowing them to adjust. She breathed out an even breath, scanning the empty room. It was a small, quaint room, dark-wooden panels covered in vibrant vines reaching for the domed ceiling. Her eyes stilled on an image. A tapestry hung from the wall opposite her, golden threads embroidered articulately to embody the youngest of the goddesses of fate--Aurora. Long, golden hair flowed down to her knees as if the strands were spun from the very sun, white, long robes trailing behind her softly. Her face was eclipsed, only the barest hint of a smile peeking through. It was as though she was taunting her, the smile forcing her to remember that she had no control over her own fate.

A sour taste lingered on her tongue and she averted her eyes almost immediately. She didn't think she'd be assaulted with the goddess's reflection so soon in the day. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, noticing that she had been cleaned of the blood and grime that had been coating her body. A linen frock adorned her body, liberated from the close-fitting leathers she usually wore. She lifted the hem of the dress and found her wounds bandaged properly, the white gauze wrapped around her torso and back. She dropped the hem with a jerk, suddenly realising that her sword was nowhere in sight. She eased out of the bed slowly, feeling her wounds stretch uncomfortably as she rummaged through the room for her weapon. Apprehension swept through her body like the wild waves of an ocean. Where was her weapon? She could not be without it, for it was given to her by someone precious to her. Frantic footsteps sounded behind the door, disturbing her brewing thoughts before it was shoved open none too gently.

Her legs tensed in preparation as two men entered inside, one wearing the uniform of a healer and the other a knight's garb. She recognised the taller man of the two to be the commander of the knights. She rounded on him immediately, disregarding formalities and her underdressed state. "Where is my sword?"

The commander stood with his arms behind his back, his warm, hazel eyes stern as he regarded her. He nodded at the bespectacled man to leave, all the while his eyes remained on hers. The man bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him quietly. A tense silence enclosed around them and neither glanced away from each other. Saskia felt that overpowering feeling of anger work its way through her veins and she jerked back a step, if only to make sure she wouldn't harm the man. It wouldn't bode well for her if she wounded an official of the great city. Especially at a time when time was particularly treasured. "Where is my sword?" she repeated.