Ephemeral

Prelude: Thorasien (Part One)

*song reference: "Fast Car" by  Tracy Chapman*

Prelude

Lavina, Montana
Thorasien

The early morning sun shone through the alabaster curtains, igniting the dewy air with tendrils of golden dust. There was the scent of mountainous terrain; a scent that caused the lungs to breathe better. Terrence was awakened by the soft tossing about of his slumbering wife, and with the briefest open of his eyes, the risen sun alerted all his senses.
Terrence rolled toward Esther just as her arm swung haphazardly, catching him in the jaw with the back of her sleep-drunk hand. He secured her gently, wrapping his left arm around her as he slipped his right arm beneath her neck.
He then pulled her to his chest, "Stars," he whispered his nickname for her, "It's just a dream."
Her eyes, the eyes that had made him fall in love with her at the beginning, opened groggily.
He snorted at her endearingly; she was so cute when she was waking up.
She smiled as his hand slid up her blanketed thigh to rest on her stomach. She'd given him grief for his two previous attempts to touch her flat torso and he'd dismissed her.
She was carrying his child, their child.
Terrence was already nine months ahead in his mind, where he could hold the baby growing inside Esther, and at the moment the closest he could get was touching the woman's midriff –she was just going to have to deal with it.
"What was this one about?" he asked his bride, always interested in the unprecedented amount of detail in her dreams. She would never know the root of his interest, and she would never know how special she was –yes, to him, but otherwise also. He was content with just listening to her. Plus, it gave him an opportunity to memorize the beautiful features of her face while she was too preoccupied by remembering her dream to become self conscious by his analysis.
"Well, let's see," with that, her frozen lake gaze averted from his twin oceans in summer, and she was off in reverie.
"There was a chamber of mirrors, like one of those corny attractions at the fair," she started, then retracted, "Not mirrors really, because they showed you somewhere else rather than your own reflection."
Terrence listened, his expression carrying a healthy measure of curiosity while not appearing overtly interested.
"But you were there, babe," she states, confused, "You were there and you were chained like a marionette to the ceiling. It was as if you were a prisoner in a place that was meant to taunt you." He took her hand, "You weren't there were you?" he asked carefully, "I could handle being a captive in any capacity as long as you weren't one too." She blushed as she often did, thinking him sweet and endearing for saying such things. Granted, he saw the misconception, for he did profess his love for her often –but he was quite serious. He'd do anything, withstand anything; battle any size of monster for her. It was how it had been from the beginning, that first night he'd fallen in love with her; a chance meeting at a mutual friend's Thanksgiving dinner. She had been nineteen, too young if not for her irresistible maturity of soul. Terrence had sensed her fierce spirit from the moment he laid eyes on her –no one at nineteen had a walk like that.
"I wasn't there...but I sort of was, I guess."
Terrence's eyebrows quirked in interest.
"Well, I was on the screen –older, and in a gray pant suit with coral heels."
"Descriptive," he joked, and she shoved him.
"I just mean it was like you were watching me, but you couldn't touch me. It was a nightmare, honestly." She whispered almost to herself, "I never want you anywhere but with me."
Terrence took her hand and kissed it firmly.
He sat up in bed then, his dirty blonde hair in fifty different directions.
"I'm going to find a song for our baby."
Esther smiled as she shook her head at him, "What do you mean?"
He pulled her into his arms and laid the both of them back into bed, "I mean I want to find a song to cover for him."
Esther bristled against his chest, "–Or her."
Terrence shook his head and kissed her hair, "Nah, it's a boy, I can feel it in my bones."
Esther rolled her eyes, and gave her best Clueless imitation, "As if."
He chuckled and squeezed her tighter, "Terrence Jr."
Esther scoffed, "What? No way. No. That would be way too confusing for everyone involved. We can give him your name as a middle name." Terrence smiled, "Hey, Junior! Let's go, Junior! Junior, quit eating all the candy." Esther giggled at him and his heart warmed at hearing the sound. He didn't think there was another giggle out there quite like hers –silly as it sounded even to him.
"Alright," Esther said, completely serious now, "What are we going to name him if not Junior?"
Terrence mulled it over, and then Esther piped up, "What about Silas?"
Terrence shrugged, admitting he did actually like the sound of Silas.
Esther looked into his eyes for a moment, then,
"I love you," she said out of the blue, sounding incredibly random but it wasn't random at all for her, he knew that much. Terrence smiled and buried his beard in her neck, tickling her.
"Terrrr," she giggled, and he lifted his face just enough to look down at her.
"I love you too," he whispered, and he watched her eyes visibly melt into an aquamarine color.
She knew he'd said it with all of him, same as she had.
One-hundred percent or nothing –that was them, and they proved it to each other simply by staying, no words were ever necessary.
Then there was a sound like a hundred trumpets that rent the air. While Esther's brows crinkled not understanding the random chorus, Terrence's blood ran cold.
He hadn't heard that sound in quite some time.
No.
Surely not now, surely not when he'd found love and married, made a new life.
Surely they hadn't come for him now.
He'd relinquished his title; he'd surrendered his circlet; he'd burned the markings of his birthright from his skin. He was no longer theirs, and they knew that. They must know that...but he could not risk the life of his wife and unborn child on a hunch they'd remembered the past properly. He pulled away from Esther, and stood to his feet, reaching for his jeans.
Esther sat up in bed, "Babe, what's going on?"
He stared at her, suddenly at a loss for words. He knew he owed her an explanation, but there was no time for explaining anything. "We need to go. I'll tell you on the road, I promise, but we have to go." Esther wasn't moving. "Ter, you're worrying me–,"
He threw her his heavy coat and a pair of her flip flops.
"I know, but I need you to trust me. I need you to come with me now."
She threw the coat on, slipped into the flip flops, and took Terrence's hand.
They ran out the door of their cabin, and bolted for the truck.
As Esther rounded the truck to the passenger side, an arrow whizzed by her left leg and struck the front right tire. An instinctive scream escaped her as she spun around, frozen in place, uncertain of whether to dive for cover or run, her body not making up her mind for her.
Terrence, however, was quick on his feet as he came to her aid. He threw his body in front of her as a shield as he scooped her up. Another arrow came, this time at the rear tire –the truck wasn't going to rescue them. Terrence turned and ran around the other side, placing Esther gingerly in his side of the truck. He leaned into the truck, looming over her protectively as he stared through the window for any sign of the archer the arrows belonged to.
There was stillness in the air for what seemed like minutes.
Suddenly, three bodies emerged from the trees.
He knew all three faces well.
The one to the left had been the culprit to shoot the arrows.
Her next arrow was nocked, and her fingertips stroked the fletching. She was clad in red chain mail made of sea serpent scales under a tunic made like the Yvaekan banner (bronze colored and adorned with the two-headed phoenix in emerald green). Her name was Za'bryel, captain of Yvaeka's night infantry.
The one to the right was a giant (the literal, mythological textbook kind), his stringy hair barely covering his oily scalp; his rhino dense skin a better barrier for his elephant sized bones than iron. He was big, broad, and dumb as the boulders he could throw like marbles.
His name was Oedipus, and he had outlived five kings and three wars thus far.
The figure at the center, his entire body encompassed in a cloak of starless night paired with a gilded face mask that covered what remained of him, was the one Terrence hoped to never see again for the rest of his days.
Well, he had hoped to never see another Yvaekan for the rest of his days, but the fact he was here meant only one thing –Terrence was being fetched, whether he came willingly or not.
"Babe, listen to me," he addressed his wife through uneven breaths, "We're dealing with dangerous people from my past. I need you to think of our baby and run –do you understand me? Run to the Anderson place. Wilma knows what to do already –I prepped her should anything ever happen. Don't stop running until you've made it to them. Do you understand me?"
He felt her cry even if he couldn't hear it, and she pulled him down and pressed closer to him. "Promise me," she whispered against his chest, "promise me you'll come back for us no matter what." His heart ached at hearing her plea, and he kissed her hair.
"I promise I will come back for you –for both of you. I need you to think of our baby right now, okay, Stars? I need you to think of our baby and run your ass off."
"On my count," he whispered into her ear, "Three...two..."
"Thorasien, Son of the Lion!" the archer cried, teeing another arrow.
"One."
Esther ran, without even a glance behind her.
Good girl, Stars. He thought, only to realize where the arrow was pointed.
It wasn't pointed at him.