Rudimentum: Oracle

Chapter 7

The announcer continued, "By order of the King, travel to and from Vasilis has been suspended indefinitely following the untimely death of King Reginald Vaslis, fourth of his name, and his wife Queen Breanne Vasilis, first of her name. May we pray..."

All sound disappeared. Elysia's throat constricted as if she had been submerged into dark and icy waters, the only sound being the blood pulsing in her ears and the heart that beat somewhere within her trembling chest. She covered her mouth and stifled a moan. Her tears pooled at the top of her hand.

She felt William grasp her upper arms and she could do nothing to stop him from pulling her away from the crowd. She stared at the man on the stool, his mouth still moving but no sound spilling out.

William spoke, but it sounded like a whisper caught on a quickly dying breeze. He pulled her along with gentle urgency, distancing themselves from the crowd. In slow motion her world fell apart.

Nothing mattered anymore. What did it matter if they were dead?

Muffled words poured through her covered mouth. She repeated 'no' like it was some spell that could bring them back; that could turn back time. Her legs grew weak. She turned and trembled like a blade of grass in the wind, but like a leaf coated in steel she fell to her hands and knees. Her sack slouched beside her as her tears watered the ground beneath. Her fingers gripped the rocky dirt, the pain like a balm to the tearing inside.

"Elysia," whispered William. He kneeled beside her. He laid his hand on hers, but she pulled away.

"Don't," she said. "Just, don't, please." Raising herself to her knees, she hugged herself. She turned away from William and stared at the gravel beneath her, well-worn and dry with faint ridges from horse-drawn carts. "You were meant to protect them," she said. She forced herself to stand up. An anger bubbled inside her, one that had been simmering for days. Her voice suddenly rose. She turned on William. "You were meant to protect him! You were his guard." Her face contorted as she looked into his pained blue eyes. "Yet he gave you to me. Why?" Swift stepped forward but she cut him off. "And you," she said, "why are you even here? One moment you kill my crew and the next you want to help me. It doesn't make sense. You don't care about me. You don't care about Vasilis or my family."

Silence was their answer. Elysia turned and stomped away, her heart sinking so low she could barely feel it beating. Her cloak billowed behind her, her crossed arms hugging herself tightly. Guilt tore at her mind. In that moment, she hated herself. Hated everything. Why did she live? What if she had stayed? Was her escaping the reason he murdered them? The thought was too dark to even entertain.

William picked up Elysia's bag and followed her. He felt his old anger returning, the one the Bellatore Arena had shoved in his heart and hadn't bothered sewing the wound it left. The King had done that, with his words and gestures. The man who had found a snivelling and scarred boy in the forest and decided to give him a home. Where Elysia shed tears, he suppressed the urge to fight anything that moved.

Swift followed, his face drawn and sullen. He furrowed his brows. He asked himself the same question Elysia had, and all he could see were the two friends he had lost not very long ago.

#

Over the day the sun intensified, and all three of them frequently wiped sweat from their brows. As the hours dragged on, they walked in silence, their feet aching in rhythm to their heartbeats. They passed through towns, barely battering an eyelid at most. As they left one of the larger villages, an old man with a large and empty horse-drawn cart was preparing to leave. Elysia approached him.

"I s'pose you could ride in the back," he said, missing some of his teeth. "A lass like yourself travelling with two men, that sounds 'bout right after what happened in Lornne."