Theurgy: A Journey's Dawn

Chapter 2 The Enemy Returns

Festivities

    Brokenarrow had become alive once again. As the day slowly rolled into the evening, and the people came out in droves to prepare for the coming banquet, and festivals, Anyone could feel the palpable energy flowing in the air. Why would there not be? It is such a rare occasion that a knight is chosen within the plains, it is practically a requirement that celebrations must be had. Lyse has experienced many birthdays and other events where he was at the center of it all. But those were always focused just on his family and himself, with some blessings given by the other townsfolk. But tomorrow was different. It was just too surreal, to think so much could be done for just one person. As he saw tables being dragged into the central courtyard, tents being raised just for games, and musicians tuning their instruments to prepare their fanfare. Lyse even noticed some of his favorite tunes being practiced, no doubt commissioned by his parents. Lyse was just left standing near the fountain, watching it all unfold around him. Every now and again, some people would walk up to give their congratulations and blessings. Even the girls from the town who found their courage confronted him. Lyse politely agreed to dance with a few of them, and he received a lot of small treats to fill him already before the banquet. But he was looking out for someone else, at the moment. Then his eyes drifted to his father.

Lyse had heard that his father had planned all this out beforehand. He was not surprised at all. A man like Wilbur is owed a lot of respect from the town. Not just for being a farmer, not at all. But he himself once had been in the same exact position that Lyse had been in. A plainsman accepted to train to be a knight. Even serving with the king briefly during the civil war, he was a legacy to live up to regardless. Where he pointed, people moved. When he spoke, people listened. And when he wanted things done, by the Fate it shall be done. He was a natural-born commander, and his old life, though left behind, bled into his mundane dealings. Lyse couldn't help but smile, how could he not. His father observed as people brought forth long narrow tables where food shall be placed, and his mother at his side making sure everything look presentable. The temporary podium set up near the fountain he sat at laid empty, but it shall be from there that Gabbes would announce who has been accepted as a knight. Lyse rubbed his palms comprehensively now. Though they have healed from the shallow cut from his blade, their impact still resonated within him. He felt anxious, on the balls of his feet. He reached for his pendant once more, and like many times before, its warm glow comforted him. But on the edge of that same comfort, he sensed danger as well. And as he rose from his sitting position, he felt two presences make themselves known to him. From behind.

And not to his surprise did he immediately see a pie being flung at him from across the fountain. He sighed, batting it aside with a hand. But, you see, this was merely a diversion. A shout, along with rapid footsteps of a man wielding a wooden practice sword. Lyse took his own from his side, blade still in the scabbard. The man sliced at him, but Lyse stepped away from the blow and dodged. He took the pommel of his sword and jammed it into the man's shoulder blade. He gave out a wheezing cough before falling like a sack of potatoes. He heard another shout, a female one as a woman ran from behind the door. Lyse smiled as she ran up and tapped him on his nose, stepping back cautiously with a mischievous smile.

"I got him," she said to the man lying on the floor. She seemed his age, young and beautiful. Her blond hair streams down her back like a river of gold. She didn't wear much elaborate clothing, but one look at her brought meaning to the word elegant. Her noble blood was very apparent in her delicate fingers, polished nails, and even some jewelry upon her fingers. Her simple red dress is made of fine clothes. The man at Lyse's feet coughed again. He was much ruddier looking. His nestled brown hair looked unkempt and unwashed from sweat. His grin flashed through the pain proudly, though he struggled to stand up. His dark green eyes looked at his two friends as he dusted off his formerly white shirt and brown trousers. He was Edlund, his adoptive brother, and the closest friend he has in this little town.

"A pie Edlund? Couldn't you try something a bit more creative you two?"

"Like you'd be saying that if we ever get the drop," he griped rubbing his shoulder. "Come on, if I get a dislocated shoulder, she deserves a smack as well."

She stuck her tongue out at him in the most childish of ways. "It was your idea anyway. He would not dare strike a maiden as innocent as I."

As she finishes her declaration of innocence, she found the light tap of the end of a scabbard on her forehead. Lyse held his guilty blade there.

"You are still eliciting to the crime of defacing such delicious arts, young lady," he told her as he walked back to the fountain. Their stunt attracted some attention, but it was waved aside as people went back to their tasks. Lyse sat his blade next to him and sat down, satisfyingly so. "You guys never cease to be children do you? How much longer till your age catches up?"

"Oh look at the knight lecturing us, Lidia. Now isn't that adorable?" Edlund picked up his blade, sitting next to him along with Lidia. She took both of his bandaged hands within her own.

"Congratulations, little knight. You've done it."

"I'll be getting my fair share of praise soon enough," he said. "I am no gluten for attention."

"Don't worry," Edlund said, setting his blade down and jutting his finger at all that was around them. "Don't forget, I'll be the next from this village to achieve the ranking of a knight, my letter is just running late. You aren't getting that far ahead."

"As if," Lidia waved his comment away. "You'll be lucky if you ever get out of being a soldier. You couldn't even surprise Lyse, and how long have you been training?"

"Easy enough coming from you, princess," he shot back. "You haven't been smacked around by a two-foot piece of wood all day."

"All that being," Lyse piped up. "I may be leaving soon for the capital after this."

Those words alone murdered the joyous nature in the atmosphere, leaving a deathly quiet amongst them filled with the chatter of those around them. They each thought inwardly of what fate dealt now. They won't be together anymore. They are no longer a band of adventurers who dreamt of each going out into the world. Perhaps not heroes, but those who would bring fortune back to their homes name one way or another. Now, only one of them seems to be on that path ahead, leaving the other two behind him in that village. Lyse was proud of himself, but he also felt as if he was betraying the dream they collectively shared. Edlund looked at his own sword. It was simpler, not as ornate as the one leaning on Lyse's lap. He smirked, tapping the hilt on his sword contemptuously, making Lidia's head snap to him.

"Well, don't think so far ahead," he said, a hint of sadness still there but behind strong hope. "We'll see you on the other side Lyse. Don't go believing that just because you got there first means you are always away from us. We will meet again, another day. Right, Lidia?"

Lidia was still wallowing in her thoughts, apparent on her face. Lyse looked on sadly, knowing exactly what was holding onto her mind at the moment. It took Edlund a few more callings before she finally looked up once again, her eyes filled with melancholy. She sat next to Lyse, looking both of them in their eyes to make her next words concise.

"I'm not like you two, you know," she said in a languid and deliberate tone as if choosing her words with extreme consideration. "I'm not a farmer or a tailer. Nor am I a blacksmith or a maid. My father is from the noble faction, the governor of this region. My path doesn't seem to be headed in the same direction as yours."

"Damn that nonsense," Edlund exclaimed. "There are plenty of nobles who become Knights as well. Why not ask him . . ."

"My mother would never allow this," she said, slowly shaking her head. "We have . . .me and my sisters are all brought up to perform. We are not warriors like you and Lyse. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Lyse asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder as Edlund sat on the other side of her. "Your path is your own, so why not take this by the reins?"

She frowned a bit. "It's not like I have not considered it. But, I know how much this means to my mother and . . ."

"If she really does love you, I'm sure she'll understand," Lyse told her, then sighed. "Just talk. That is all the advice I can give you."

It was true; the only advice he could give is just to talk. Not like he was much to talk to her about these things. He kept his sister's training away from his parents for quite a while now. He could not be any more gracious than his father and mother would be anywhere near as accepting as they are. But he can not say the same for the family that he knows nearly nothing about. She moved here when they were all young, and since they met at their small school in town, they always stuck together with promises of adventure. But her dreams were all that he really knows about her.

"At least sleep on it, ok," he said, standing and stretching his stiff arm. He took up his sword. "I'm going to have a stroll through the woods to clear my head a little too. You can come along if you'd like."

She looked a little squirmish, looking out his window towards the woods he mentioned. "I'm fine. Monsters are probably still hunting, you know."

"It'll be fine," he said. "The guilds cleared out the woods last month. Besides, I'm a Knight now. I'm sure I can handle some monsters."

"There you go again," Edlund said. "For a smart guy, you sure do not think ahead, do you."

Lyse gave them both a ginger smile as he began to walk away. Lyse picked through his gambeson, a thick linen armor, and felt the pendant there. Immediately set out back through the gates to journey into the woods. His parents were too busy to notice his absence by the time they needed him, along with his sister. Lyse didn't want to take long, just a bit of a walk alone and quiet. He knew the secret passageway he discovered long ago. He walked across the fields of wheat, various grains, and crops to the wall. Hidden by a large cloth covered in grass, he uncovered a hole just large enough for one person to climb into and out the other side of the tunnel. He made sure to cover his tracks, even caking himself in some mud to make it harder for a monster to sense him, then went on to the woods with his sword at his side.

Where the plains met the forest, he walked up to a post where a lit lantern was placed and prelit for those lost in the woods. He found these every few dozen meters apart, easily marking where he was as he slowly slipped into his thinking. His thoughts drifted to many things. Still, he couldn't recognize his status as a soon-to-be knight. Just one event and he shall achieve all of his dreams. It was a strange ballot of fear and excitement. He had always admired Gabbes and his father, two great men who passed their wisdom to him whenever they had the chance. Lyse remembers back to a specific occasion. It was not long after his mother and father accepted his ambitions, and permitted him to study under Gabbes. He picked up lessons reasonably well, though Lyse remembers falling behind the other nobles with whom he studied alongside. It was his first time feeling inadequate, and he had feared that perhaps he was in over his head, that he would indeed fail. He brought his troubles to his father, rocking on his chair and smoking a pipe. In these rare, serene moments, the man looked like a statue one would see depicting a famous hero or ruler. But he was a mere farmer, a retired knight. Still, Wilbur Opal looked upon his creations with pride, and Lyse was no different.

      "It may seem daunting, I'm sure," he chuckled, puffing out more smoke. "But hardly is anything worth it easy, now is it?"

    Lyse sighed at his wise words. "I know, father. It's just. What if I'm wrong about my words like mother said. What if I disappoint you, our family."

     "You will not fail us," Wilbur said with the utmost confidence. "Because I have great faith in you. You are destined for something great, I know you can feel it. Don't hold back your ability with uncertainty. For there is no greater shame than not giving it your all."

    "Do you really believe that?"

    "Of course I do," he said. "And so does your mother. We will be sad to see you go. But we will be proud knowing our boys will do something great."

     Lyse took those words to heart. Not just him, but Edlund too. He pushed himself beyond what the knights demanded. And it was clear that while Lyse may be a scholar and swordsmanship, Lyse's raw talent with avra was something to be marveled at. Lyse hopes that will be enough so that Edlund may join him, so that he may not live through the shame that will come; a squire who could not live up to expectations. A fear they so deeply share.

As the thinking turned towards his own family, he lost focus on the path ahead and tripped on something large on the road. He quickly got up, hand on his hilt as he peered down with the ceased breath. Sitting there, gasping for fading breath, was a large deer, more than that of the average, with golden antlers and shiny brown fur wet with blood. There were several slashes and bite marks upon the creature's neck and back, but noticeably the deer was still alive.

What does that mean? Lyse thought. He looked around for any other signs of what could have caused this. Monsters don't leave kills like this. They always eat all. The claw marks . . . they are too small to be caused by a chimera or manticore. What caused this."

It was then that he heard the deep, guttural growl of a predator behind him. Immediately his movement and heat ceased to a crawl. His brain scattered to match the sound to the animal and slowly turned around with the lantern in hand. The dim orange light that bathed the path around him caught the glowing red eyes of a beast within the woods themselves. It was still too dark for him to see the full creature, but the picture of a large, burly, brown bear was immediately brought to his mind. He got into a readied stance and placed his hand on his blade. The bear did not seem to notice the movement, seeing his hesitation as a weakness. It pounced, leaping over the bushes and swiping at Lyse's face as it roared into the night.

Lyse luckily dodged to the side, unsheathing his blade. A bit disoriented and dazed from its missed attack, Lyse got a free shot as he clutched his blade. He felt it grow warmer, and soft light wraps around the blade as he slashed down at the bear. Roi flowed through him, enhancing every limb and every muscle. It even flowed through the knife, strengthening it, sharpening it. As the bear turned back, it found the blade slashing down its left eye, making it roar in pain. It went into a rage, swiping wildly in ways that caught Lyse off guard. He noticed something on the bear's claws as he swung them. As they swung and swung, he saw that they were indeed encased in metal. But he was too late, in his realization, as he saw the bear's eyes gleam with red light, and the metal glowing exactly like that of his own sword. The bear's paw moved faster and then sunk themselves into his chest.

There was a spray of blood as he fell onto his back, away from it. The blade he held slipped from his finger and flung from his grasp as he was propelled back into a tree. His entire body shook with indescribable pain. He could barely feel his fingers; all there was in the red pain seething in his chest. He would hate to see it for himself, but his eyes blurred from the pain alone, and he could feel his sense of reality slipping away from him as the bear closed in on its incapacitated prey.

The bear stalked closer. Its remaining red eyes gleamed with fuming anger and hatred. Its metal claws strapped onto his paws dug into the soft grass and were stained with blood. It gave a low growl. "I must admit, you are an impressive warrior. Wounding me in such a vital area. Be I a regular beast, and you could surely have won. But you face no beast before you. You face far worst boy."

As he thought, Lyse could feel his lungs fill with the warm liquid as breathing became more and more impossible. The gruff voice he heard grew more and more steady the closer he got. Lyse saw the bear stand upright, not stopping in its careful advance. The fur on his body fell off in clumps, falling to the grown and dissolving. The snout pushed into his face as his demeanor shrunk some. The fur lining his face became that of a beard stained in blood. He wore dark leather armor that slowly poked through as the bear's physique shriveled to his own, equally imposing form. His brown eyes, one now with a slash and pulsing with blood, get down at Lyse as a single gauntleted hand raised to his face and lightly touched the wound.

"You persistent bastard," he growled with almost the same ferocity of an actual bear. "You couldn't have made this a bit easier. And now, can you please be more cooperative. She told me to take you in. But she never specified that you had to have all your limbs attached."

He stood over Lyse, his eyes darkening and dimming. He could see the hand reaching out to grab him and the intimidating stone face of a scarred man. But then, he saw the light behind them. The hand stopped, and the man swiftly turned to deflect an attack from a silver wolf that launched itself from the treeline. It managed to position itself between the man and Lyse, simultaneously releasing a flurry of blows and claws that scratched away at the man and forced him to back away. He looked down at his armor, several scratches even making through and causing warm blood to drip down in small streams. Then he looked down at the wolf. It quickly turned to Lyse, whispering something under its breathing and then blowing a chilly air towards him. He felt it consume him, then the wound alone. He felt the wound lose feeling and become numb. Breathing eased, and slowly he felt the feeling return to him. The man growled at the wolf, brandishing the iron claws upon his gauntlet.

"And who are you?" he stalked her, measuring her defenses and looking for an opening. But she was not budging an inch; she made sure to stay between Lyse and him as if knowing their purpose. "Little pup, this is not your business. Leave or simply suffer the consequences."

The silver wolf did not falter. Its red eyes deadset on the man and his blood-stained gauntlets; it howled into the night with a cry that shattered the silent night. Even though the man was taken aback by this as he looked at her carefully. The wolf looked back at him, this time a voice echoing from its lips.

"I just called my pack," the sound of a woman billowed. "Any minute, they will close in. So unless you wish to become our next prey, I suggest you run. Us wolves can be tireless hunters, you know."

There could be heard a deep inhuman growl that emanated from the man's form. He gave her a very menacing stare that he knew he could not pay off immediately. He looked towards the house Lyse had departed from, then down at the boy who would have been his target. He sighed, then stepped into the darkness where he disappeared into. But a few words did reach the two of them.

"My prey may avoid me now," he told them. "But my deeds have gone farther than one man."

With that, his presence was gone. There was a large sigh of relief from the wolf as she let her guard down. She shifted her body back into her human form. The silver fur fell to the forest floor and withering, and long white hair grew atop her head that deformed back into the face of a young woman. Lyse thought for a moment she looked familiar. Her blue eyes drifted to Lyse, still on the forest floor contemplating the set of events in his mind and the last words of the man who attacked him. Her silver armor made her well identified as a knight, and she extended a hand down to help him up. Without thinking or even looking, Lyse sprang to his feet and then immediately began running towards his house. The wolf knight was momentarily confused before she, too, realized the weight of the man's words and began sprinting as well. She was able to catch up to him easily. He ignored the path, taking a straight line through the trees and shrubbery.

 No no no, Lysethought to himself, over and over again. He saw the lantern signifying the forest's end. Also, an orange glow he identified with dread. He made it to the forest's edge, only to fall on his knees in absolute horror looking up at the raging fire that could be seen from afar. He watched as his home was set ablaze. A rapidly spreading fire is slowly eating the shell of a house. His eyes trailed over to the slightly fainter glow to the village just half a kilometer away, flames reaching even higher, it seemed.

He felt almost nothing in his body. The feeling of disbelief slowly seething within his kind. She stood next to him in equal horror and immediately ran to the house. Lyse saw this and immediately did the same; with energy, he had never experienced before, the house was a wreck of embers and charred wood. Lyse called out as he shielded his eyes and mouth from the intense heat. He could feel the fire licking behind his armor, but he ignored it and continued to look around as the wolf sage ran upstairs, shifting into her wolf form. Lyse meandered into his home, coughing in huffs from the smoke. He heard a small groan, and he immediately snapped as he was familiar with it. He turned to his right to see his father, heavily wounded and slumped against the wall. Gouts of blood were now rushing down his mouth, a beam pressing upon his upper torso and a mess of blood surrounding it. His limp arm loosely hung to a sword that was warped and bent in odd angles.

Lyse rushed to his side, trying to pry the wood from his father, who yelled out in excruciating pain.

"No," he shouted out. He grabbed Lyse's arm, a deficiency in his eyes. "Save . . . them. Save them. . . Lyse."

At those words, a vivid image appeared inside his mind appeared of his sister and mother, burning in their beds and screaming for mercy. The sounds echoed in his head as he looked over his shoulder to the smoldering stairs, the same set that the sage ran up to. He looked back down to his father but only met a blank stare back. Flames licked the sides of his still body like a pool of thick, warm blood spread from him and sizzling in the flame. He looked on in twisted horror, getting to his feet and backing away, as another beam fell upon him and the whole section of the living room caved in. His father's corpse was buried under a pile of ash and burning wood. He coughed, looking away and no longer wishing to look on anymore. He carefully climbed the stairs, half on fire. From how he saw the fire spread, he could see that it started in the kitchen and the living room. Although the top floor was barely touched, flames were beginning to eat away at the foundations. He knew that any moment the whole house could be crashing down. He ran immediately to his sister's room and kicked the door off its hinges. Immediately a curling mass of smoke rolled from the room, and he coughed even more.

"Massua!" he yelled, trying to bat the smoke away. The more he moved, the more his bones ached and troubled his breathing became. He wanted to rush in immediately, but he heard a brief shout of his name. He looked down the hall to his mother's room at the very end, and the wolf sage kneeling over something, looking back to him and calling his name again. He ran to her to see what her urgency was about. But, he was not ready to see what awaited him there. As his breaths grew shorter and shorter through the rising smoke, all breathe was ceased within him. He stared blankly, but not the same look of horror as before: bewilderment and confusion. In the middle of the room, with slash marks and stab wounds along with her golden fur, his mother laid unconscious. He does not know how he knew, but once he laid eyes on the large lioness, he knew that it could only be his mother. She almost never used that form. In fact, he has never seen her use it personally. The wolf sage bent down to her head, slowly and carefully placing a hand on her snout. A few small words were uttered, and he watched as the giant lioness figure melted away, revealing his mother still in town, cuts and slashes all over her body. That was confirmation. His life as he knew it was over by this point. His father is dead. His sister missing.