Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 56 Haven

He launches the bottle with damaging intent. Fortunately, Wilbur managed to catch it before it collided with the ground. It wasn't a robust liquor, but it was no stretch to believe James tried his best by how empty it was. He sat the bottle on the table as James leaned back in his chair, placing his hands over his red face. It was worse than Lizbeth has described. It was like he had nothing more than a writhing mess of unsatisfied anger. He has a target for his rage but no clue how to focus it. At least, that is what Wilbur could surmise. Wilbur shook his head at himself. He shouldn't be trying to analyze his friend at a time like this. He needs to understand him.

He sat down across from James, who still has not removed his hands from his face. He was as still as stone but let out rather erratic breaths. He did not have the temper to be sad. But neither could anger outpace the incredible hopelessness that nested in his heart.

"I thought you would wish to avenge your mother and sisters, James," Wilbur told him. "You are a man who always declares justice for all those who are wronged. What makes this situation different."

"What's the point in fighting when all of it, no matter how hard I try, will simply turn to dust?"

"What's the point . . ."

Wilbur stood immediately at those words, throwing his chair back as he marched around the table. James lifted his head from his hands to see the commotion, only to find a fist coming across his chin. He was thrown sprawling from his seat, shambling away as Wilbur hovered over him. He looked a menace; the deep cold stare in his eyes, usually calculative, was only judging and distant. The hit connected well but was not aura enhanced. He stood, wiping the blood from his lips as Wilbur still walked even closer. He tried to get another word out, but another fist collided with his stomach and another with his chin. Wilbur's punches were each solid and strong, with a clear passion behind everyone. James was in a disarray of thoughts, bewildered by these strange actions. It took him two more hits before he could compose himself and actually dodge one that could have broken his nose. He grabbed Wilbur's arm, and with all his weight, punched him in the face. Even without Aura, he went flying into the chairs. But he did not stand. Wilbur rubbed his raised ribs, growling at the pain.

"Have you gone mad, Wil-"

"It is said," Wilbur's voice came about. Still cold, still calculative. "That two warriors can communicate without words during a battle. Do you know what I am thinking, James?"

James straightened his clothes, still under bewilderment as Wilbur rose, dusting off his own garbs. The anger on his face, the emotion was unlike anything James was accustomed to. He walked back towards James, but James did not dodge this time. He allowed Wilbur to grab him by his collar.

"What's the point?" Wilbur growled. "You imbecile. You ask now of all times why we fight. I thought I knew you, brother. I thought your despair to be over mere logistics, but I did not think of you to be a coward."

"I am no coward," James pushed Wilbur off of him. "Look at the state they pushed us in. Our loved ones stains the ground around us. The clans brought to needless squabbles, my father maddened with it all, and we godslayers mere newborns to this threat. What else am I to do but despair? What else is there for me?"

"There is no question what you should do," Wilbur shouted. "You fight. You keep fighting to protect all that is precious to you. Fight to appease the souls of those wrong."

"And after I have lost everything?" James shouted back. "What should I do then?"

"You keep fighting, damn you," Wilbur told him yelled out him. "You fight till you are sore, till your bones shatter and your skin boils. Every morsel of you will be there to defend our home, your nation."