by Renee "Mouse" Booke
Rather than argue their next move out on the open
road like common rabble, Ashryn and Bryson decided to make camp a few miles
outside of Waterford proper. Ashryn’s wanted posters and flair for the dramatic
made being discreet impossible, so the idea of walking into town beside her
filled the Knight with a quiet dread. They couldn’t have been more different
from one another, and it was becoming even more apparent as they finished
setting up their camp for the night and began their debate in earnest.
Bryson was chewing on a piece of jerky, ripping
through the salted meat and breaking it down into smaller, more manageable
pieces. Ashryn was nibbling on what looked like a cross between bread and cake.
She only took small bites, and chewed each one far longer than was probably
necessary. It was when Bryson started licking his fingers that Ashryn couldn’t
take it anymore.
“You really should stop being such a dronish,
onion-eyed hedge-pig,” she groaned. “Your morals and your code are going to get
us both killed.” She took off her hat, resting it in her lap as she leaned
forward to warm her face and hands by the fire. “Men like the Duke of Perlshaw
don’t play by the same rules, he might as well be playing a different game altogether.
It gives him quite the advantage over you.”
“Now see here,” Bryson replied, “I’m not going to get
anyone killed. Being true to one’s code of honor, and maintaining a virtuous
heart is integral to making sure that a Knight never becomes that which he is
sworn to fight against. Were I to give in to these ridiculous antics of yours,
there would surely be little difference between me and the villain in
question.” He grumbled unhappily, trying to process her verbose insults.
Ashryn rolled her eyes, responding with an audible
and exaggerated sigh. “Except there would be. One of you is engaged in treason
and the other one isn’t. One of you abuses the power of his station while the
other believes steadfastly in a life of service to community and country. Do
you see where I’m going with this? You’re thinking in these very black and
white absolutes for no reason.”
Bryson grimaced, tearing off another chunk of jerky.
He chewed thoughtfully, mulling over her words with a troubled face. She wasn’t
wrong about everything, as much as he was loathe to admit it, but there was
still some part of him that cherished the codes he had clung to for most of his
life. “You present a valid argument, Reymaris,” he acquiesced, “But it just
doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t feel right. You can understand that, can’t
you?”
Ashryn lowered her eyes to the fire. For once she
didn’t sass him. She accepted his words with a begrudging nod, and the two sat
in a long, uncomfortable silence. They didn’t even look at each other. Their
eyes were focused on their own distant demons, and locked into the pale, hazy
memories they once thought dead and gone.
The sharp crack of a snapping twig was the only thing worthy of stirring
them back to reality.
Their eyes met from across the flames, and Ashryn
pointed from her ear out towards the forest in silent inquiry. Bryson nodded
back to her. He had heard it too. They both reached for their weapons, rising
to their feet as their eyes began to scan the surrounding forest. Nothing.
Bryson reached for his discarded shield, still wary
of the potential danger. He didn’t keep his gaze down for more than a second.
Were they overreacting? This was the forest after all. They were surrounded by
creatures of all sizes and shapes here, while also being at the mercy of the
elements. Surely a strong breeze or a gust of wind could produce such sounds as
well. They both waited patiently, standing close together with their backs
nearly touching. Still they heard nothing new in the eerie silence. Even the usual
crickets and frogs had gone quiet.
Ashryn peered up at Bryson, a little surprised that
her indomitable companion hadn’t complained about her proximity to his coin
purse yet. Could it be that he was starting to trust her? It certainly would
help in these kinds of tense moments if they were going to work together on
such dangerous undertakings. She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.
“Deer?” she asked quietly.
Bryson’s shoulders relaxed as he shrugged and lowered
his weapon. “Must have been,” he murmured.
The two of them started to laugh at the absurdity,
shaking their heads in mockery of their own jumpiness. Two completely capable
combatants afraid of a mere twig! Ashryn crouched down to retrieve her hat, and
Bryson quickly kicked at her leg.
“Reymaris!” he called loudly, breaking the heavy
quiet that had fallen over their campsite.
“Ow! What is your problem, Sir Bryson? I thought
Knights were supposed to be chivalrous, not kicking people while they’re down!”
Ashryn shouted back at him, rubbing at her leg where his heavy boot had
connected.
“Reymaris!” he shouted again, louder this time.
“What?!” She placed her hat back on top of her head,
finally looking up at the Knight with an angry scowl.
Bryson was pointing into the darkness of the
woods…only…they weren’t entirely dark anymore. Small orbs of blue and purple
now dotted the landscape. “What are those?” he hissed. The orbs glowed with
ethereal light, flickering like flames on a candle. They seemed to be hovering
too, floating in the middle of the air as they hummed and buzzed about.
Ashryn’s eyes widened at the display, and she quickly
stood up. “That’s not a deer,” she whispered.
Bryson would have rolled his eyes if he was paying
attention to her. Now the knight was busy trying to recall where he had seen
something like this before, or at least read about it. His pulse began to
quicken, and as his heart pounded, he could feel it travel upwards into his
throat. His body was screaming danger, and despite his training and discipline,
he could feel a vexatious tightness in his chest. It tormented him, this
elusive knowledge fragment. Even as the pulsing lights grew larger, and their
blinking more erratic, he strained his mind in a frenzy of recollection. Where
had he seen this before? The sounds of chanting voices picked up just beyond
the tree line, and that was when he knew. “Run Reymaris! It’s magic!”
But Sir Bryson was too late. The vibrant lights had
launched themselves through the nighttime sky, and a torrent of fiery azure missiles
were heading straight for them.
