Butterflies seemed to twirl within Lyse. He knew where it was coming from, but that did not comfort him. The euphoric feeling of discovery that he had visiting Torlak, or even visiting Pumavut in Koraki, vanished as soon as he stepped foot on the shaky wooden docks of the capital city of Hath. It didn't come from the people. Sure, everyone he saw looked a little rough. Everyone walked with hastened steps as if afraid of attracting attention. Everyone's down cast eyes made Lyse feel as though being watched in some awkward way. But he didn't sense any malice, and no one took notice of the four as they traversed the market area. The only people that seemed approachable were the merchants themselves, waving over to any passerby with practiced half-smiles and approachable appearances.
It didn't come from the buildings themselves. For the most part, the streets and accompaniments all looked rather splendid. Each building had a cluttered yet decorative look to them, adorned with all manner of detail that seemed excessive; even balcony windows would sometimes be adorned with iron embellishment that served no apparent function. He guessed at first that it was the atmosphere here, the way this place felt like any others. Unlike when he had traveled to Torlak, this place seemed uncomfortably disconnected from nature. The empire was meant to be a place where humans and nature have a bond. Much of the land was still untamed, and men respected nature as one would a mother. All material you could gain from the earth and its riches are to be respected. And the role of a Farmer was to be treated with respect, enough so that other men in the village looked to his father with a hint of reverence for how well his crops grew. In Hath, however, that connection wasn't explicitly shown. It took him a good ten minutes of searching before finding the first tree in a nice little park surrounded by statues of what appeared to be kings, queens, explorers, and mythically shrewd merchants. None of the others seemed particularly bothered. But then, he realized that this too was not the reason for his unease.
He concludes that this unease is the familiarity this place tried to force upon him. His mother had explained before that any memory he may have had as a child here was wiped and replaced with those from BrokenArrow. This went back till he was at least 5 years old, which meant that he would still have something to go off today if he still remembered. But, because he had no recollection, nothing but a gap in his mind, it felt as if something was being forced on him, something that should be there but isn't.
"You look like you about to roll over, Lyse," Edlund smiled at first but then noticed Lyse's grave expression. "What's wrong? Got memories of this place yet?"
"No," Lyse told him. "My mind tried to remind itself but cannot seem to grasp it. Come on, we're nearly approaching the road."
"There's no way you can remember all that just by seeing that once," Gray said.
"The man can make plants sprout just by thinking about it. Are you really surprised of anything at this point, Gray?" Elena asked him.
"That's an overstatement," Lyse consoled. "I'm not nearly as well-practiced as my mother. Besides, I didn't memorize the thing; I just . . . tried to get the best route as possible."
"The point still stands," she said. "Besides, memorizing a map isn't that hard if you practice, Gray."
"Lots of practice, I can assure you that," Edlund said. "Our mother would break our fingers if we failed on some literacy test, so we studied our arse off until we could remember. However, I think what Lyse can do is something you have to be born with."
"Right here," Lyse instructed them and pointed towards the road that splintered off the main road. It wasn't empty, but the traffic was lighter, and it was a bit too narrow for large carriages to come past. "Anyway, what was that about being born with something?"
Edlund snorted. "Anyway, sir map reader, how long till we make it to that fortress thing?"
"Before sundown, hopefully," Lyse said. "If I could take that map, I could. But Moxie doesn't want to hand over her only map of the city. said it's hard to find a good cartographer these days. We may need to ask for faster directions."
"Are you sure you want to ask these people," Gray looked around? "These people look half dead shambling about. And the air here is quite poor must I add, they must be airsick or something?"
"It won't hurt to try," Lyse moved aside as a bunch of children came running by. They were beginning to enter the housing section of the city now. This place had the least amount of vegetation like any other sector so far. The houses seemed to cramp together and squeezed upwards. The second floor on most buildings was more significant than the first, letting them hang over some of the streets and providing ample shades for men in dusty trousers to sit while the workday ended itself. The rosy colors of the setting sun spilled through cracks in the clustered roofing. Rows of fabrics hung out to dry all scattered this light in an interesting fashion that Caught Lyse's eyes for a moment. This place seemed familiar, seemed too familiar. His mother did tell him that he did live his earliest time here. But he wonders what he would be like if they did indeed start in Tiras, was raised in court life. He smiled at the thought. He wishes he could spend a little more time here, absorb the atmosphere of this strange yet familiar world. But for now, he has other plans.
(X)
"He's here already then?"
Lizbeth sat up from her working desk. The attendant who spoke this nearly leaped out their skin when she said this, setting the letter, then they held onto her desk before taking a few steps back. Lizbeth ignored his anxious behavior; it had become natural of the people of this nation to be especially cautious around their monarch. It had been far worst over a decade ago when she took rule. People were so afraid of her and what she might do they often rather say nothing at all than advice to tell her news that could be unpleasant. It was like trying to have a conversation with an unsettled cow of all things. She wishes she had her sister's easy-going nature, but it just didn't pan out that way. She couldn't help but feel content with the nobility of this kingdom. This kingdom they played with one another, only aided by the tyrannical nature of her cousin, has caused such suffering among the people it seemed that the citizens were always on the edge of revolt. Even after so much time admonishing, sometimes banishing these people from their places, the progress was just too slow. They still tried to plot behind her back, figure out a way to remove her, or deceive her into being unfavorable to the regular working men and women who saw her as their savior. It's just another tyrant. This messenger was new, so it was hard for her to tell.
"Don't back away from me, idiot, just hand me that letter," she told him, holding out her hand to him. He nodded and bowed, paled faced when handing the item to her. She opened it, recognizing the handwriting as that of James Colton and his official wax stamp. She narrowed her eyes as she comprehended its message, a necessary acceptance letter for any ambassador. This Colt Mire is undoubtedly her nephew. He had come a bit quicker than she anticipated. It had only been a week since James had called upon them for their meeting. She thought she had a little more time. She sighed, setting the paper down and sliding it to the side with other documents.
"I see," she said sharply. She turned back to the messenger. "Tell them to wait for my arrival in the throne room; we shall have our discussion there. I wish not to be accompanied by guards except for my guard. Go now."
He bowed twice more before turning on his heels and nearly stumbling out of the room. She guesses she deserves the reputation she had garnered. Despite bringing the tyrannical ruler down, freeing many people, she was an abrasive person by nature and didn't shy away from using more aggressive means to get what she wants. What else is the monarch supposed to do, though? She can't trust her lawmakers or even some of her law enforcers to do what needs to be done unless there was a boot to their neck. Softness would get her nowhere, she thought. And she wasn't going to start now.
She rubbed her eyes, feeling tired and impatient all at once. She had already decided that she will indeed give away her pendant. Lyse will have to be the one to find and give the pendants to the newer generations. Just a few days ago, a message came from Remmus to make sure she would comply as well, making her send some choice words back as a response. She wasn't so daft to think that she could keep a safety over the pendant with all that is going on in her country. She fears that Talin already has a holding here and had been festering in her city's underbelly all this time. Time. Yes, time will tell her if this is so. And so will Lyse. She wondered what type of a man his sister had crafted for them. She may not have wanted her son to come into this life, the choice wasn't hers. From the occasional letter they send back and forth over secure connections, Lyse had been well trained as a knight, and Celia feared he would leave for the capital to make it official, even voice concerns he will go out to the outlands to fight the Frostlanders.
Stop acting like he is still feeding on your breasts," she had said. "He is not a babe but a man, and from what you describe, a man with a strong sense of right and wrong. He can make his own decisions."
Was it right for her to say such things? She didn't know, and she still doesn't. She hasn't been her dear sister in such a long time, and the last time she had laid eyes on Lyse, he was a mere child struggling how to walk in a straight line. It made it all the more curious for her to see Lyse if he was the man, she thought Wilbur and Celia could make.
She walked out towards the throne room, expecting guards to follow, though none did. Good, then the messenger indeed goes the word out. She strode. Her dress was most certainly queenly, which was a rare occasion. She mostly likes simple dresses whenever she wears them, if not looser pants and sleeveless blouses. But she wanted to get the impression of her across as clear as day to these knights of who she was. She wore a white dress that fell nearly to the ground, a blue lining and decorative fabrics and embroidered golden threads accompanying it. Her coat was made from a fine silk array lined with fur for the colder weather coming around this winter. She wore little jewelry, the only two items being a solid silver ring on her right pinky and the crown. The crown itself was an interesting piece of art. It appeared to be made from several interlocking pieces of gold and bronze that allowed it to shift and move if she wished it. It was meant to represent the technological progress that Hath has made. But it also harbored another secret. The gem that adjourned its middle was, in fact, the pendant hiding in plain sight. Along with the other treasures that surrounded it, the grape-sized rock didn't appear out of place. But she felt the power it held, almost like she was wearing the might of an entire army above her. It was a comforting aura, although she now feels the connection between her and it to be somewhat altered. She remembers what had happened to James when he attempted to use the pendants while he was no longer worthy, and the aura of her sister who is undergoing the same conditions. She did not wish to share that fate.
But it was still a comfort, a memento to what she could accomplish and what she had accomplished. She was a godslayers, a savior in her home, this country, and savior of this world from the powers that would see it subjugated instead. And she was the savior of her people, the one who bested the tyrannical queen in combat and took this crown as her proof of her rule.
She approached the entrance of her throne room, guards waiting patiently for her arrival. Lyse turned on a dime as he sensed something quite intimidating approach. He didn't have to use aura to see it. He had only been waiting about a few minutes, conversations between them all suddenly scarce while in this large chamber. The domed roof above transformed the warm rays of the sun into dozens of technicolor bars of light that showered them. The only other light was candles and lanterns hanging from the colonnades to either side. The floor was an intricate work of tiles and granite slabs, depicting men in armor and horses, people bearing fruits and cattle, and honored treasures to a person on a similar throne to the one they sat before. The throne itself was a wooden masterpiece of craftsmanship covered with gold and silver embellishment that caught their eyes as soon as they walked in.
But what draws Lyse's attention the most was who waited for them here. He assumed her to be a guard, but she seemed just a bit too stern, as strange as the thought was. She watched them with unconventional diligence that was almost unsettling. She wore armor, unlike most of the guards who had regular military uniforms with sabers at their sides and a rifle in hand. Lyse has never seen so many guns in one place. She carried neither weapon, however. Her hair was a pale blond, almost like Makyra's platinum hair. Her eyes were another strange attribute, a very pale green much unlike the more formidable blues and green common in Hath. She also wore a circlet, a silver chain around her temple with a pure glass-like diamond. He knew her to be a guardian, but she was unlike almost all the others. More stoic than Makyra and more guarded than John. She seemed like a stature more than an actual person.
The doors opened behind them, and they all turned on a dime. Lyse had prepared himself, but he was still stunned at the resemblance Lizbeth, and his mother shared. He instead had to rely on whatever small detail separated the two. Lizbeth was darker skinned due to her exposure to the hotter climate of Hath, her eyes just a little sharper. Her long blond hair fell to her sides, obscuring one vision somewhat, but was just as straight as his mother as well. If they were not paired side by side, he could have trouble telling them apart. She carried herself with a charisma that made his back straighten. He can only liken this sensation to sir Gabbes when he instructed them, but she did not have to say a word. She walked past them, past the guardian, and took her seat on the throne, looking down at them all with a petrifying gaze. The doors closed with a thud. Without even looking at one another, they each knelt. All besides Lyse, who simply looked up to the Queen in Hath, hands plastered to his sides.
"You are standing in the presence of the sovereign of Hath," the guardian finally spoke, her tone dangerous and insisting. "It would do you wise to follow your friend's example."
"No, there is no need for that," Lizbeth gestured to Lyse. "Step forward, child. She won't bite you; I can promise."
Her tone was soft but Lyse had to will his legs not to shake while he approached her. He walked past the guardian, who stepped aside to keep an eye on both him and his band. Now that he was standing before her, he could feel the aura like a soft summer breeze radiating from her. He almost bowed out of some instinct, but before he could plan, his aunt suddenly stood and tightly hugged him. His aunt, not the queen of Hath. He had not expected such affection from someone he knows virtually nothing of. But obviously, she did not think so. The hug was comforting, though. He hugged her back. She was only a few inches taller than her, just like his mother. He felt almost child-like, though, in her embrace, as if he had just come home after a long day of tending the farm, and his mother would comfort him and his strained hands.
"It is nice to see you, son," she backed away, smiling at him gingerly, almost longingly. "If it is your mother, however, I'd thwack her on her head. Why is she not with you?"
Lyse somehow felt nervous to tell her any bad news, but he forced himself. "We were attacked on our way to Torlak. We managed to make it out alive, but she injured herself fighting one of the Makhai. She's agreed to stay on the ship for now."
She gave him a side look. "I see. So, you've managed to tame her just a bit then? Or perhaps her life at that farm really has softened her. The sister I had known would be carried here in a wagon if she had the choice."
"Everyone must listen to reason, I suppose," Lyse decided to step down next to his friends, who uneasily rose. It felt strange to him, he feels he should be on his knees with them. But the warmness which she regarded him with kept him onto his feet. "My mother does send her regards, however. I would do her disservice if not to come and speak to you in her place, your highness."
"You can simply call me an aunt," she told him. "It seems you have acquired your father's way of words to some degree. I am sad to hear of his death. You and your mother are still citizens under my kingdom. If you ever need someplace for refuge, you are welcomed."
She sat down on her throne; hands folded on her lap. "Now. you came here to acquire the pendant of strength, am I right."
She gestured to her crown. Lyse didn't feel anything very peculiar from it, but he noticed the diamond that she pointed to. The gem sat in an interesting plate of interlocking portions of the crown. He guessed that it could somehow be detached using some secret method. She took the crown off her set, setting it in her lap to start working on something in the back of it. They watched as the plates of the height shifted, twisted on hinges, and unlocked from their positions till the object didn't resemble a crown at all but a condensed five-faced box with the diamond on the very top. Then, she simply shifted the item out of place. The gem fell out with a small pop, followed by a thin silver chain that was somehow hidden within the thing. She was careful in handling it, almost as if it was fragile. It seemed to react to her touch, pulsing like a heartbeat. She reassembled the crown to fit on her head, the space for the diamond gem now empty.
"A neat little thing, isn't it?" she said. "It was one of the last things Vincent Smithe created before he was put into prison."
Her tone wasn't affectionate or considerate, Lyse noticed. He may have admired the man's work, but it seemed that those feelings were somewhat like admiring a statue carved by some ancient artisan. Lyse admitted that the creation was impressive, but he was apprehensive thinking about this Vlad Smithe. All he heard of him had been terrible things.
The guardian who stood before her walked up the steps to the throne, gingerly receiving it and then walking back to hand it to Lyse. Lyse tried not to touch the gem itself, just like the other pendants. He quickly placed it into his pouch and passed it to Edlund, coins and all, and he placed it within his cloak. It was a small precaution. He left the other pendants on the boat, and he gave the one they possess now in the hands of someone unimportant to Talin. If he is captured or killed, at least they will not come into possession of the pendant unless they kill all of them at once. He cannot allow for even one of the charms to fall into their hands. Even if they have no one to wield them, it's another weapon outside of their disposal, and Theurgy may need every able arrow and spear soon for whatever conflict that will be coming. He took out another satchel, one filled with rocks he had collected on his way here after the thief incident, and secured it where his pouch would have been.
"Thank you, queen . . . Aunt Lizbeth, for granting us this chance," he said.
She looked over his companions passingly, not particularly interested. "So these are your band at the moment?"
"They are all capable knights, I assure you," Lyse said earnestly. "I have fought with them each on numerous occasions. I must say that I doubt I'd be alive now if not for their aid, I'm afraid."
"I see," she looked back to Lyse as he spoke. "That is good. It is best to have capable people you can rely on. I do hope that this new generation of godslayers must be as willing as you are."
Lyse sighed, feeling a little stir into his stomach. "I must admit I actually only launched myself on this quest to save my sister. But it is clear to me that my home needs me. And I'm prepared to do whatever it takes."
"That remains to be seen, son," she waved dismissively to her side. "You'd be a fool not to have doubts, but be careful, Lyse Opal. I understand you to be a knight, and no doubt you have made plenty of mistakes that have brought you here before me. Can I trust you that you will grow to be the protector of our people?"
Lyse sighed, remembering back to his so-called mistakes so far into this journey of his. "It seems I am prone to mistakes, so perhaps I shall become quite the scholar under them. So yes, Aunt Lizbeth, put your faith in me. I doubt there is little else in the way of options anyhow."
"There it goes again," Lizbeth chided. "That sharp tongue of yours. Be careful where it cuts. Now, tell me, Lyse. What is of your sister, if there is any information you can share with me at the moment?"
Lyse considered and organized the information in his mind for just a moment. "She is in Mount Kryn, a prison that had previously been abandoned. She was kidnapped by Talin assassins and a warrior names Garath that must be watching over her. They most likely want us to make it into Plithos. At least that is what the Grandmaster Remmus has told us."
Lizbeth did not seem shaken by the information, only thoughtful at what he had said. Despite how abrasive she is, Lyse is glad to see that she can also have a leveled head. "I see. Those bastards, they have seen great potential from members of Theurgy, or even their immediate family can make great hosts for the spirit of gods. Our bodies are acclimated to harness such magic, as evident within yourself, your mother, and I. Godslayers in the past have been targeted, or their families, to fill in the ranks needed. The good news is that they won't kill her. They'd want her alive. But if you do not hurry, they may permanently damage her mind in order to control her, do you understand."
"As clear as crystals," Lyse was already on his heels to turn. He was so close already. He didn't need any more significant push to get him to go. "Is that all you wish for me to tell you . . . aunt Lizbeth. There is little what we spare in terms of time, we must be precious with what we have entailed to us."
"Of course," she said, folding her hands below her chin and smiling faintly. Although, she sensed some unease that he still had, hidden away from her but not well enough. "Is something bothering you, Lyse?'
Lyse looked back up at her. He seemed hesitant, but it was a little too late to back down from the confrontation. "On my way here I . . . I could see myself in these streets. Happy and full of life. I could see my sister, my mother a father happy as well. My mother has given her answer as to why we could not stay in Hath. But I also wish to hear you thoughts?"
Lizbeth considered with furrowed brow, leaning forward in her seat a little to examine Lyse's face. It wasn't accusatory, simply sincere and earnest. He wanted to know her intentions and her morality. He was a good man, but still new to this world, so it seemed. He had a liking for learning. "I do wish to chat much on this subject," she said. "But I was indeed the will of your mother that drive her to settle in Thiria. I wish only that she could consider my offer, but the filter of Hath most surely would have put you all in danger still. There are many shadows, some may never go away. But hopefully, the light will dispell them in time. And I do wish for us to reunite once more. But until then, farewell, my nephew. And tell your mother that she will always find a home here if needed. May Fate find you favorable on your journey."
"To you as well, of course," Lyse bowed, despite her previous protest, then turned to leave. His friends were slower to follow, seemingly a bit shaken by the interaction between Lyse and his "aunt" that seemed so nonchalant and uncourtly. Lyse also felt the need to escape, or else he may upset some rule placed for such an occasion. He was curious just how informal all the members of theurgy had been towards him. John was a major shock, acting more like an old friend than his sovereign and even speaking with him alone, without even a guardian to look after him. Remmus was a bit statelier, mainly because his power could be felt from miles away, and the way he talked made you want to get busy with something to seem useful. Lizbeth may be the straw to break the wagon, as her kindly nature contrasted with the state of her nation but also so suited. She was abrasive, much unlike the residents he passed by who seemed afraid to be confronted with anything and minded their own business. But he guesses that an abrasive ruler who cared for them is much needed. IT was still jarring, but he found comfort that he could understand it at least. He saw a lot of his mother within her, and vice versa.
(X)
As the doors shut close, Lizbeth frowned down at her guardian.
"Tell me, diamond, do you have doubts about my decision."
She barely turned, her eyes still pointed, but without an explicit target. Her voice was husky, airy in its quality yet smooth. "I do not trust him. He seems the type to die young."
All of us were supposed to die young," she said. "He reminds me of both of his parents."
"Does that not terrify you?"
"That almost sounds like wit," Lizbeth chided.
Diamond considered thoughtfully. It was rare for her to speak this much. She was often silent and thoughtful, rarely even eating r sleeping. "I fear that he is the harbinger of something dangerous coming. Rarely do the darkness wait for the light. I think they will come for you, my queen."
"Let them," Lizbeth set her hands onto her throne's armchair. "Yes, I would like to rip the lungs from their chests personally. They have tainted my homes, made the monarchy their puppets. the only misfortune I have with them is that Umerius died to James's hand instead of mine."
"My queen," she cautioned. Lizbeth didn't realize she had tensed her hands. The golden armrests were warped beneath her.
"My anger got the better of me," she said. "A cursed trait, I suppose. It plagues my temper. We should prepare ourselves for something rather large, though. Perhaps I am eager to this encounter, I cannot say the same for my people. War will be upon us, and there is no way around it, I'm afraid. I think James and Remmus realize it as well. Talin is quiet, but they plan ambitiously. and unfortunately, we must wait for them to move first."
(X)
Edlund let out a loud breath of relief as the doors shut behind them, and they entered the antechamber of the throne room with a hall leading to the front gates. It appeared this same tense atmosphere was shared equally among them all.
"How could you stand to walk up to her like that?" Edlund rubbed his arms from goosebumps. "It's like your mother when she's mad, but she was always mad. I felt like I might melt out of my clothes the way she glared at me."
"What was hugging her like?" Gray seemed to share Edlund's bewildered tone, but it also held a hint of reverence. "Did you sense her aura?"
"No," Lyse said, though he's sure he didn't need to. The air seemed agitated when she had arrived, like the winds warning of an approving storm. He only felt that among the most powerful of Knights like the paladins and perhaps even the king and his mother. But she seemed to even be above them. "I expected a bit more resistance, but I'm not going to whip the generous horse, I suppose. I'm sure that the Grandmaster had spoken to her or so."
"With all these grand people you are meeting with such ease, no wonder people mistake you as some sort of prince," Elena told him. Then frowned. "Well, seeing how you are the nephew of the queen of Hath, I suppose that isn't far off. Now I'm just in questioning why a prince decided to live on a farm."
"It was my mother's and father's decision, perhaps before I was even born," Lyse said. "Life under houses and politics can be bothersome, especially those who had grown tired of living with strenuous conflict. Can you blame them?"
"There are a lot of lords and ladies that would love to be in your position," Elena said thoughtfully. "To Hath ties to Hath would allow you to have ties to practically every kingdom this side of the Liontari mountains. You could be in line for the throne for all we know."
Lyse frowned at the thought. He was not a prince or king; he was a warrior. The shield and sword to be wielded to protect his home. That is why he took up the blade. That was why he became a knight. To go from farmer to knight to a prince seemed like such a wild fate for someone like him. Then again, Fate has been playing rather oddly with Lyse's life so far. Always bringing him at the opportune time for something to happen. Perhaps he will play with Lyse until he broke. That was what a lot of tails seem to spend about this nigh mythical being. Maybe the godslayers are something of interest to him.
"Any way you slice it, I intend on to do what I must, if that's all I can do" Lyse looked down at the pouch once more. They were exiting the extensive palace ground and coming up on the fence heavily guarded with more riflemen, stoically standing as still as statues and unreactive to seeing them. The night was slowly gripping the city. People seemed to turn in much earlier than the clans. It was perhaps not even an hour till an actual sunset. The only activity that seemed to be was the occasional tavern or even a smithy. Gray seemed to longer on such, scratching at his temple like some urge had come over him, till he realized that he might be left behind. Guards patrolled in relatively large groups, up to twenty per group with halberds at their side and a rifle or pistol to accompany them on their walks. Lyse felt the chill in the air much more than before. He wouldn't be surprised that it was snowing back in BrokenArrow. The winter festival, Winter's Summit Festival, would be underway. He began to reminisce on his former memories of such occasions silently. Much like the harvest festivals, it was one of the few days where everyone didn't have to work. Merchants sold festivities such as special paper that burned specific colors and exotic entertainments. The last he remembers was a traveling carnival that was headed to the capital and stopped by seven years ago. He remembers fondly watching men dance with blades and women sang in boisterous tones. It was one of the few times Elena had come into her own with Edlund and Lyse. They became quick friends with the governor's daughter.
"I just want to go home," he whispered to himself, his friends not picking this up in their own conversation. Thought, he knew that this was a foolish thing to desire. He may have been drawn into this world by the need to protect his sister and return her home. But there was no home for them, it was burned down. His family was BrokenArrow, but how can he look at it the same if he returned. No, he cannot return home. He has learned what indeed lurked in the dark and now has an urge to vanquish it. There will be no comfortable sleep, no comfort at night, nor peace of mind when he is just a knight under the lenient control of Novia of Exploration. No, now he wishes to root out this evil. He has been given knowledge. He has been given weapons. All he needs now is a target.
"Isn't that right Lyse?" Edlund asked him suddenly. He didn't realize he had been lost in thoughts. They were nearing the docks now, the Queen's Revenge now in the view over the low buildings.
"What was that?"
Edlund just sighed. "We were just asking about the King. He came to you, didn't he? He must have been another of Theurgy."
"Mind keeping your voice down a little," Lyse hissed back.
"Like anyone is out to listen?" Edlund gestures around them. A troop crossed bout two streets behind them, but for the most part, there was still no one around. Not even sailors stuck around, leaving much of the docks opened.
"Still, we are being chased by rather tenacious enemies," Lyse told him. "It would do us best if we just hurry along and get to the waters as soon as-"
A large crashing sound. It wasn't far Lyse could hear frightened screams, probably a street over. The ground seemed to shake by some massive force that immediately put them on guard. They need only glance at one another before running in that direction. Some small part of him warned of such foolish actions, but he did not care. He just ran as fast as he could in the direction of the sound, with his band close behind. Lyse saw what appeared to be smoke being lit by fire as he rounded a corner. Troops were already crawling into the area, though they only kept a perimeter as heavy smoke clogged this entire street now. By the looks of things, it appeared something had exploded in one of the workshops. Lyse listened on as one of the officers calling for someone to send word to gather water.
"Was it a tank explosion?" One of the officers asked frantically. "Old Williams forge was that way, and he had gotten gunpowder the other day."
"No way he was so careless to let the entire thing explode?"
"Whatever the case, we need to get people out of this smoke."
Lyse watched as suddenly a rather large piece of rock was flung from the smoke, directly at Lyse and his party. Elena ran up in an instant, channeling aura to her forearms to smash it to bits before it hit the ground. The troops scrambled out of the way as the pieces fell around them. The streets were most definitely thrown into confusion. Lyse and the others unsheathed their swords, sensing this was no ordinary event. A part of Lyse urged that they turn and go. That this was not their fight nor their trouble. But then he used aura to peer through the smoke and see who else was in this fray. He saw a few people, either limping towards the town's guard or lying unconscious in the smoke. The fires poured onto the neighboring building, forcing its residents to find their exits hurriedly. Then, he focused on where this fire had come from, and any thought of retreat was immediately melted away. Directly center of this ruckus, standing and peering in his direction, was a group of twenty men and women, standing and waiting, unbothered by the smoke. One was larger than the others, a barrel-chested man with a noticeable aura. Lyse recognized it. Recognized the feel of it, even from that night. Felt the faint sensation of claws dig into his lungs, crushing his ribs, and the roar of a bear. It was Garath, and all thoughts of escape died with hatred and anger that Lyse had no control over.
Edlund had a moment to turn and see the glare in Lyse's eyes before he bounded off into the smoke enhanced by aura. Aura leaked off him like flames as he made his way towards Garath. He held his breath, using an aura to fuel his movements. His friends were perhaps right on his tail, but he took no notice. His blade was ignited in white light that shunned away from the thick smoke around him. And he met one of these assassins. Not Makhai, assassin, like the ones he, Edlund, and Makyra faced not long ago. One came out brandishing a short sword and a dagger, ready to engage him. But after all his training, and after all he went through, these assassins seemed like child's play in comparison. The power of Athena read his movements out to him, a shadow of his attacker moving before he could signal his next move. Steel met Nemean Steel. His blade, enhanced by the power of aura, managed to slice the short sword cleanly in two. Before the assassin could move out of the way, he buried his blade into their collarbone, and they fell to the ground at his feet. Two more popped out. He had to rely solely on his senses to see them, and he guesses they had to do the same. One engaged him while the other flanked. They were trying to trap him and possibly subdue him. But he wasn't caring about them, and he was focused only on Garath, his mind only filled with putting his sword into his throat. While the assassin went high, he went low, grabbing at their legs, throwing them over the head to keep on sprinting.
His mind was blind with a white-hot rage, a need to get at this man who upended his life. But then, he heard yet another scream that temporarily took him out of this trance. Someone from one of the buildings, partially destroyed from the explosion, was stumbling out of the wreckage. It was a woman, covering something in her hands with clothing as she began to plummet to the ground. The sense of anger melted away, replaced by a strong need to protect instead. On the balls of his feet, he dashed with extreme agility to save her. He managed to get there in time, basically tackling her out of the air. He carried her with one arm into a nearby alley, setting her down. He tried to inhale, foolishly, to tell her to run, but he haggard instead. The smoke, upon entering him, began to agitate his lungs, throat, and mouth. Lyse coughed uncontrollably, only barely holding his sword in a stance, and his use of aura began to falter. He forced himself to be steady, but he was running out of breath and his limbs burned from lack of oxygen. As three assassins came in his direction, he channeled aura to his legs and jumped straight up.
He breached the smoke, taking the moment he hung in the air for a huge intake of air. Several of the assassins had jumped towards him as well, a knife coming from below. He was too slow to react, only deflecting the blade slightly to puncture his shoulder instead of his chest. Another with a rapier stabbed at him, but he deflected the blows as they fell, back into the smoke. He realized, in a moment of clarity, that he had made a mistake charging in alone. The assassins can now surround him and cut off any aid from his friends. The smoke prevented them from shouting for him as well. He found himself between five assassins, dancing between their daggers. They were tiring him out, he realizes. He needs to get out and back to attacking Garath. One tried to grapple him from the back, thinking he didn't notice them, but he did. He grabbed their hand, twisting to break their wrist, and throwing them overhead at the one before him. The assassin barely dodged, but it created a hole for him to puncture and getaway. The killers seemed to disappear as soon as they were wrapped in smoke, along with their aura. As he thought, they only allowed him to see their aura to lure him. Now that he was in the trap, all he can do is fight his way out. Garath was right there, still, like a waiting target for him to sink his blade into. He ran as fast as he could, aura lighting up the thick smoke. He ignored the cries of his friends, who took the risk of calling his name. The clashing of swords and the confused orders from officers. All he could do was run, to do what he must do. Garath's form appeared in the smoke. He clutched his blade with both hands, running and thrusting into his gut. He wasn't reacting, he was oblivious.
A sharp slink! He was thrown into shock as he realized what had happened. He had just exited the smoke on the other side, where the remaining assassins waited with their aura concealed. No, not just killers. Perhaps two or three Makhai. One wielded a saber and remained exactly where he would reveal himself. His blade clattered to the floor, and he was brought to his knees, stumbling. Searing pain shot up both his arms as blood stained the front of his cloak and gambeson. He shakily looked down at his hands. Ten feet before him, still clutching the blade. Where the sword had severed them, half of his forearm gone, leaving only stumps behind. Blood slowly leaking free. The shouts behind him grew louder and more urgent, but he could barely keep his gaze straight, and his mind focused. The last thing he saw was Garath walking towards him slowly, a satisfactory smile on his lips.
"Well, I must say you are tenacious," he spoke triumphantly. "But you are still young, I suppose. Still too eager, and too tenacious."
An approaching boot, and then blackness. The shouts faded, the crushing pain in his lungs and arms dissipated. And he was forced into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was screams and shouts as his name was called out, left behind.