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“That would be lovely,” she answered. “I’ll have tea ready.”
The Lord gave a beaming smile as he bowed his head and moved to the gate that led to the street. “Goodnight.”
I waved a hand. “Goodnight, my Lord.”
? ? ?
The city had long since gone to sleep, but a candle burned next to my bed as I flipped through Tobyas’ book. Aunt Berna taught us numbers and history and manners, but she hadn’t taught us much about the Saints. Something intrigued me about the fact that Rhedros had been born good. A section titledThe Forgotten Saintssat open in front of me. My lips moved silently as I read the words in my head.
“In the Old World, the Forgotten Saints were the ultimate authority. Humans feared their power and begged for their blessings and mercy, much like they do of today’s Benevolent and Blood Saints. Little is known of the Forgotten Saints, either because few stories made it through the burning of the Old World or simply because they were more elusive than the Benevolent and Blood Saints, but it is known that the Forgotten Saints were a unified force, unlike today’s Saints.” A drawing of nine ambiguous silhouettes graced the bottom of the page, crowns of all heights and shapes upon their heads.
“The scourge of the Old World was the Occulti, a horde of demons that could take the shape of man or beast. The horde was led by the Malosym, Breaker of Wills and Ravager of Souls. Malosym was the eternal nemesis of the Forgotten Saints, but since the Saints could not die by any hand but their own or that of a human, Malosym was never able to succeed in eliminating their influence. Instead, he commanded the Occulti to lay ruin to everything built by the Forgotten Saints.
“Under Malosym’s reign, the demons of the Occulti could possess a living being or create new life, and their ability to do both knew no bounds. The Occulti thrived on chaos and anguish, and cared for little beyond spreading evil far and wide.” A faded picture was nestled beside the text, a black cloud hovering over a city with buildings lying in ruin. “They tortured, maimed, and killed, feeding and gaining strength on the pained and dying screams of innocents as they destroyed cities.”
I wrinkled my face at the thought. “The sole vulnerability of the Occulti was each other. The horde was interdependent. When pain was caused to one member of the horde, pain was caused to all. When one demon perished, its brethren seemed to grieve and work to avenge its death. In turn, their mourning period furthered their devastating destruction.
“Malosym could only be killed by Holy Flames, commanded by the Forgotten Saints. When the Occulti grew too numerous to be controlled by the Forgotten Saints, the Forgotten Saints had no choice but to set the Old World ablaze, killing Malosym and his horde.”
I fought back the rising discomfort and flipped through the pages of the book, but a title caught my attention:The Daughter of Katia.
“Seers say that a child will one day be born to Katia, Keeper of the Benevolent Saints, a daughter with the same blood that pumps through the Heart of the Eleven. She will be the Savior of the Realm, keeping it from falling to darker forces. It is presumed that the father of the child will be either Tolar, Saint of Wealth or Soren, Saint of Heaven, the only two male Benevolent Saints, though this is not known for certain.”
“It is also unknown whether the Daughter of Katia will be able to access the wells of power of the other Benevolent Saints or the Blood Saints who originally called Katia their Keeper. When the child will be born unto Katia remains unknown, but it will coincide at some point when Noros, Saint of Pain, is cursed to walk the realm.” A robed, full-figured woman with blurry features stood tall on the page, the crown atop her head like a beacon in the night. Her hands were outstretched, palms to the sky, the perfect picture of holiness. I’d never guess she’d been born the Keeper of the Blood Saints.
My eyes began to droop, heavy with exhaustion under the impending dawn. I hadn’t meant to stay up so late. I wanted to be well-rested for my next lesson with Tyrak. I tried to flip through more pages, the promises of stories of Katia’s beasts and Rhedros’ fury beckoning me, but sleep won the battle.
? ? ?
I rubbed my eyes against the scorching Eserenian summer sun. Tyrak’s shadowy figure stood before me, his eyes on my face. Lord Castemont had joined Aunt Berna and Tobyas inside to prepare afternoon tea, though chances were Tobyas was talking the Lord out of any sweets he may have brought.
“You didn’t sleep much last night,” Tyrak stated matter-of-factly. He held his broadsword in one hand, my wooden sword in the other.
“How do you know?”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, his dark eyes crinkling. “Balance is the first thing you learn. Then you must learn to read your opponent, assess them for vulnerabilities.”
I raised a brow, unsure what he was getting at.
Tyrak tapped my left knee with his blade. “You stood straight as an arrow during your lesson last night. Today, you lean to one side.” He tapped the back of my shoulders next. “And you slouch.”
I quickly straightened, pulling my shoulders back and squaring my jaw. Tyrak chuckled under his breath, extending my wooden sword to me. “Balance.” The straightforward order had me lifting my weapon immediately.
It didn’t take long for it to land on the ground with a dull thud. “Again,” Tyrak ordered, the clipped tone of his voice different from last night’s lesson.
I took a deep breath, narrowing my eyes as I focused on the palm of my hand.I can do this.Once again, the sword quickly overturned and clattered to the gravel. “Again,” Tyrak’s voice sounded.
A frustrated grumble escaped my chest. Suddenly the tip of Tyrak’s blade was beneath my chin, propping my face to look at him. My eyes flew wide with a flash of fear. “None of that nonsense.” His blade left my chin, but his eyes kept me pinned in place before they quickly flashed toward the house. “When Castemont suggested I train you and your brother, I had no choice but to agree. I serve him and do as he bids. Did I think the potential was there? Maybe so, but most likely not. Now, I knew you possessed the height, but I did not foresee you possessing the skill. A very, very pleasant surprise.”
“I can’t even balance a damned wooden sword.”
He let out a chuckle. “It will not be easy, but I truly believe you have the skill to serve in the Royal Guard.”
I furrowed my brow. Every member of the Royal Guard had silver-streaked hair and lines on their faces. The position was earned after years and years of service in the Eserenian army, and only the best of the best ascended the ranks.
I ran my hands over the dull wooden sword. “The Royal Guard is a long way away for me.”
Tyrak stepped closer. His gaze was intense, almost uncomfortably so. “Lord Castemont is a very well-connected man. I make no promises, but if you keep up with training, I’d bet he could get you into the Guard as soon as you reach eighteen years.”
