Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 12 The Fated Choice

"How bad was it?" she asked silently, and the doctor was uncomfortably silent as well.

Eventually, he did manage to answer, with a deliberate, careful tone. "A fine lad that is. However, creating water from nowhere must take a toll on the physical body. A strain only those of Torlak are trained to endure. They call it Hing Sickness, a weakness of the soul that shows itself in the body. If you presented him to me any later, he could have critically been injured, and I would doubt he would be able to even wield a sword at that point. I would suggest he be careful or at least take some training to deal with these ill effects before they become too severe next time."

(X)

When Lyse awoke the that morning, he felt as if he had slept for days, wherein true the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. It had been a few days since the trials and he's still sore. As Lyse's foggy eyes looked out of his window, out towards the north and over the mountain, the dull red of the sky reminded him of the blood of that boney tree, and those monsters that guarded them. He thought that good sleep was beyond him after the horror and stress experienced in that dungeon. Some of the cuts still stung, and drops of blood spotted the fresh sheets like darkening pools after a storm. He half expected to see Edlund there, still snoring as the day would never come, and he would have to shake him awake. But now, such pleasantries of peasant living was gone. He was expected to rise on his own, and be ready at a moment's call all on his own. It was still something that had not sunk in because he had yet to really have time to adjust to his surroundings.

With a sigh, he sat up in his bed, looking down at the armor that he had thrown off that night. To his startlement, they were all freshly changed and washed. They laid in neat piles, his gambison fresher than he has ever seen it, little specks of dirt all that is left as a tribute to all the time he wore it in training, marching through the hill in full battle gear, practically racing everyone through the exercise, even Gabbes who trained him. When he would accompany his father to the nearest town to sell their crops, although never feeling that his presence was ever necessary. Even the sword, the sword his father bled to make, shined free of blood, better than what he could have done. And as he expected, not a scratch upon its hard surface. He placed all this apparel upon himself, the momentoes of his village, of his home with him, with the comforting smell of the field still clinging onto them despite the rigorous attempts to rid them of it.

Just a few moments later, he heard loud, clamoring footsteps like a deer was trampling through the halls. It turned out that nothing so elegant, but in turn brutish, as Edlund, freshly bandaged and smiling, slammed open the door. His skin was still a bit red around his arms, waxed linen still clinging to his wounds. But otherwise, he looked like the same Edlund that left the village, with a chin, now held a bit higher. Behind him was Gray, who seemed to be doing much better, but a sick and tired expression constantly weighed on his face, though he tried to smile all the same. Edlund almost immediately grabbed onto Lyse's arm as he was tying his shoes down, trying to pull him out of the room.

"Come on, we will be late, Elena already went on ahead," Edlund said in cherry tones as if he was seeing jesters perform. To an extent, Lyse understood his enthusiasm. Being the first team out of the dungeon was a big honor, one that can not be overlooked, no matter where you are from. Surely people would want them there as the other teams would begin exiting the dungeon, purely for the interest."

"Fine," Lyse managed to wrench free of his grasp, grabbing his sword holster and a cloak. Even this deep within the castle, it was pretty lively, more so from when they first arrive. Curious eyes still laid upon them, but instead of suspicion, the vibe seemed to shift to a hint of marvel. Words traveled fast, even in such a large city. When a baby is born within the plain villages, it is known within that day the child's name. Lyse thought it astonishing that the names of the current record holders are well known within the morning. Now it seemed every knight in the capital, every soldier with spare time and even some of the nobles traveled the journey up the mountain path to the entrance of the dungeon, where the king had stayed with his Paladins. The ceremony, for which the new knights shall choose their path within the empire. Today was that day, and Lyse couldn't help but smile.