Protector of the Enchanted

We ended up staying at Liam’s inn for three days instead of the one that we had initially planned. Why you may ask? Well as it turns out, Cylen’s fear of the water meant that he’d never gone swimming for long periods of time before, which means he was more vulnerable to the cold.

 

Additionally, we’d spent a considerable amount of time walking around in our drenched clothes, which didn’t do him any favours. Meaning, he caught a fever overnight and has spent the last three days recovering.

 

Meanwhile, after his little stunt I have taken to the art of the turtle and decided to hide or more accurately run every time Ryan is in the same room. Something he isn’t so happy about as it means that I’m now spending that time wandering about town alone. Gem is too busy looking after Cylen to come with me.

 

Although another titbit I’ve discovered is that other than a simple broth, my cousin is unable to cook anything. The chefs in the kitchen were horrified after she almost burned tea. Which is an achievement in itself because I simply did not think that was possible. I suppose that’s why she had me make most of the food and we didn’t eat anything other than take out.  

 

Oh! Did I mention that Cylen’s sick state means that Gem refuses to switch back the rooms, meaning that I’m forced to share the same room with him? She said that this was for the best, claiming that I would thank her for it in the future. Yeah right.

 

However, I suppose I can’t really blame her for wanting to stay by Cylen’s side. He did look miserable when I saw him this morning, still not really recovered. He kept apologising profusely for the inconvenience, but I assured him it was fine. It’s not his fault that he got sick…well it kind of is…but he didn’t do it purposely, so we’ll let the weak immune system slide.

 

I just wish that it didn’t happen right after that embarrassing scene. I swear, I can’t even enjoy the delicious cupcakes in peace because they keep making me remember, which in turn makes my face go red. So far, I’ve been able to avoid Ryan by giving excuses that I feel tired or that I need to go buy some hygiene products for myself.

 

Which I do. I’m so glad that menstruation products in this world are somewhat on par with the ones on earth. Maybe even better considering they can use magic here. But I’m pretty sure my uterus hates me.

 

Training. That’s what would probably be able to make the cramps less painful. But the only one I could train with is the one currently trying to avoid. I unconsciously let out a loud sigh, resigned to my fate. I jinxed myself.

 

The first day I’d been able to avoid him by saying I was tired and needed more sleep and sending him to get medicine for Cylen. The second day is when I used the personal hygiene product excuse, and lo and behold yesterday it was no longer an excuse. How do I put in words the utter agony and embarrassment of asking people where you can find such products as they give you judging looks?

 

Luckily, Ryan had probably caught on that I didn’t know where to find them, probably because I was looking for them two days in a row and had stepped in to help me find the shop. Which just opened up a whole other type of embarrassment.

 

More specifically, the type where the other person knows you’re trying to avoid them and just kind of gives you a little bit of space to sort it out. I’ll admit that it has helped as I no longer feel the need to turn bright red whenever he’s in the room. But the butterflies just won’t stop flying.

 

Maybe, you’re dealing with this the wrong way. A voice in the back of my mind suggests as I finish with the shopping. Maybe you should try and face the problem head on instead of running away.

 

That’s actually not a bad idea, it’s definitely worth a try. All this running away has done is make me more embarrassed, facing it head on might be a better solution. It’s what I’ve always done before, so why not do it now? I certainly can’t keep running away forever. Also, from previous experience, I know these cramps are only going to get worse on the third day, so I really just need to train.

 

Having made up my resolve, I finish paying for the items and head back to the inn. I haven’t seen Will for a while, I wonder why that is? Maybe he’s busy with his shop? It’s a plausible explanation for his absence, it’s not like he can give up any more time to just check up on strangers he only met three days ago.

 

The only problem is that with Cylen being sick, Gem looking after him, and Will being busy, there’s no one to distract me from him. No. I’m going to face this head on. No running.

 

Pushing open the door, I place the groceries on the table, deciding that I’d take some of the food over to the others later. That is, if they haven’t already eaten before then. The food made by the kitchen is a whole lot better than store-bought produce. However, they’d last for a longer time, so we could take these with us, or else we’d be eating stew every day.

 

Maybe we should get Cylen to cook, Gem did tell me that he was the one to teach her to cook. Surely, he’d know how to make other food.

 

I’m so tired. Running away from people is such hard work, especially if you have to find things to do to pass the time. I’m just about to fall into bed when I notice the man laid across it. Huh. I wonder where he went, he wasn’t here this morning, and now he seems to have fallen asleep because of exhaustion.

 

There are light dark circles under his eyes and his skin looks slightly sickly. Does he not sleep well? How did I not realise that before? I can’t remember actually seeing him sleeping before, I’ve always been the one who falls asleep first, and he’s always awake before me. I’d notice the dark circles before, but I haven’t seen those in days. I’d thought it was a one-off.

 

Concern overrides any possible embarrassment as I reach a hand over to touch his forehead, brushing his hair out of the way in the process. It’s a normal temperature, if a little warm, but that could be attributed to the heat in the room. All of a sudden, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the bed, pushing my arms above my head as a large muscular form hovers over me.

 

“Chess?” He doesn’t seem to hear me, a faraway look in his wide eyes. “Ryan.” Again nothing, his breathing rapid as if he can’t see or hear anything. The grip on my arms is getting more forceful, but all I can focus on is the man in front of me, he’s not looking so good.

 

“Chess.” I try again, trying to stay still although the grip is starting to hurt, in a situation like this it’ll only get worse if I resist.  He doesn’t react, his breathing laboured, eyes growing dark and I know for sure that he’s not mentally present here. Now, the only question is, how can I bring him back?

 

“Theo.” An unfamiliar name slips from my mouth, a slight shock like a brain freeze going through my head. Where did that come from?

 

My shock only lasts for a moment as the man in front of me finally comes back to his senses, blinking rapidly. His mouth opens as a silent word I can’t quite hear slips from his lips. The grip on my arms loosens, but he doesn’t move back, potentially still not all here.

 

“Are you alright?” That’s the main question here. “I called your name three times, and you didn’t answer.”

 

He stares at me for a moment, before opening his mouth, “I apologise, I didn’t hear you.” Pause. “Although I believe you called a different name the fourth time.” There’s a curious glint in his eyes, a strange hope replacing the darkness.

 

“I don’t where the name came from.” I admit. I’ve never met someone named ‘Theo’ before…Or at least I don’t think so. There’s been a lot of strange occurrences lately.

 

“Then,” His eyes bore into mine, “Why did you call it out.”

 

“I don’t know.” My eyes don’t move despite the intensity in his, “It just seemed right. You weren’t responding to anything else.” I pause, his expression remains the same, “Why did you respond to it?” I can’t help but be curious.

 

The corners of his lips turn up for a second, “No reason.” Then why do you look so sad? “I was in a bad place. Thank you for breaking me out of it.”

 

“You’re welcome.” I hesitate, should I ask him? “Why haven’t you been sleeping?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

 

He gives me a bewildered look, obviously not expecting that question. “What do you mean? I’ve been…”

 

“Don’t lie.” I interrupt, tilting my chin up and narrowing my eyes, “The truth.”

 

Another moment of quiet staring follows before he finally gives in, sighing in resignation, “I…just have a lot on my mind.” That’s not quite it, but I guess I’ll leave it that for now.

 

“By the way…” I murmur as the silence continues on, “When are you planning to let go of my wrists?” I was too busy to focus on it before, but now that the concern is fading, the reality of our position is hitting me full force.

 

He seems to only now realise he has my arms pinned above my head, taking a quick glance at them before moving his eyes back to me. I shoot him an annoyed glare when, instead of letting go, a smug smile comes onto his face as he lets out a chuckle.

 

“Well princess,” His adjusts his grip, “Normally, I’d let go immediately, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. And I don’t want to risk you trying to run away again.” He moves his face slightly closer to mine, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

 

“I told you.” I try to ignore the heat spreading across my ears, “I had other things to do.”

 

“Hmm…” He looks sceptical, “Is that so?”

 

“It’s not like I can actually avoid you! If that was even what I was doing.” I’m not going to admit it. I’ve decided right now. If I admit it, then he wins.

 

An amused smile. “Is that so?”

 

“We share a room. Why would I be avoiding you?” I play dumb.

 

“True.” A devious glint in his eyes, “But I still don’t quite believe you weren’t avoiding.” Oh, I see, it really had been obvious. When I say anything, he shakes his head, amusement evident in his eyes. “So please do answer my question, why have you been running.”

 

Frustration. That’s why my face is going red. “I’ll answer that when you tell me why you really haven’t been sleeping. Don’t think I don’t know an incomplete answer when I hear one.”

 

A loud sigh followed by amused laughter fills the room. “Touché.” A bright smile, “But, I won’t let go until you answer.”

“What if I promise not to avoid you?” I try to compromise, “Wouldn’t that be enough?”

 

“Alright.” He releases my arms immediately, moving to the side, “it’s a deal.”

 

Stunned silent by what just happened, I can’t find it in me to move, a blush creeping onto my face. The red fades instantly when I recall the other part of what just happened, his reaction to my touch. I’d only gently pushed away his hair, but the look in his eyes had suggested he was ready for a fight.

 

His muscles still remain tense although they’re looser than before. I can still feel a warmth on my skin where he had gripped my wrists. A dull ache from the grasp, making me rub them in front of me in turns.

 

“You know…” I turn my body to face him, “I wanted to keep training today. But now, I think that it would be better if you got some actual rest.”

 

“I’m not tired.” He mumbles. “We can go outside and do that.”

 

I scoff, “Your eyes are red and have dark circles under them and you have the nerve to say you’re not tired?”

 

A sheepish smile crosses his face as he runs a hand through his hair, “You’re exaggerating.”

 

“You didn’t even hear me just then. Or recognise me for that matter.” I point out narrowing my eyes.

 

“Maybe a little tired.” He confesses.

 

“A little tired?” I swear this man. “A little tired doesn’t mean you completely zone out.”

 

He keeps staring at me, “I think…I liked our other topic of conversation better.”

 

Without thinking, I find myself already in a sitting position. The nerve of this man.

“Stop trying to change the subject!” A hand goes up to cover his eyes. “Get some rest.”

 

“You wanted to train though.” He mumbles, the face under my hand scrunching up.

 

“We can do that tomorrow.” I use my other hand to reach for the blanket under our feet, “For now I’d rather you get some sleep.” A pause, “You look half-dead.”

 

Tittering fills the room, but he concedes to my point as he takes a pillow, placing it under his head. When I’m sure that he won’t try to move, I take my hand of his now closed eyes and spread the blanket over him, making my way off the bed.

 

As I go to the bag of groceries I’d set aside for Gem, I see a glass bottle placed to the side of my bag. There’s a note rolled up inside. Uncorking the bottle, I carefully remove the piece of paper, which looks a tad fragile. Unrolling it, I find my eyebrows furrowing at the writing inside.

 

Beware. The intruder in your midst does not want you to succeed. Trust can be misplaced, do not believe all you hear. It may just lead you to be devoured by darkness.

 

The ominous tone of the note is further established when it and the bottle immediately turn to sand as soon as I finish reading.

 

A shiver goes down my spine at the sight, who would have been able to place that in my room. An intruder in our midst? Misplaced trust? What rubbish! I would be a fool to completely believe whatever I read, and creepy messages in bottles are at the bottom of the list when it comes to what you should believe.

 

It is reminiscent of a scene in movies, where the villain tries to make the hero doubt their companions to isolate them. Which is further proof that it should not be believed. Nevertheless, it raises the question of who would want to do such a thing.

 

Not being able to find an answer to that question, and still feeling slightly spooked by the message, I decide to take the groceries to Gem later. I feel so worn out. A sigh escapes my mouth as I slowly make my way back towards the bed, maybe all of this will make more sense later.

 

Lying down once again, I take a look at Ryan’s sleeping face, a small comfort to the chaos in my mind. Subconsciously a smile appears on my face. My mind growing more tired as a whispered goodnight leads me into my slumber.

 

The girl hums to herself as she keeps sketching onto the paper given to her. Her new foster home wasn’t any better than her last, they never seemed to have time for her. Maybe they were trying to overcompensate for that by giving her a brand-new sketchbook and tools to pass her time. It sure did help her forget where she was at times and she could pretend that she was not all that different from her peers at school.

 

However, she couldn’t quite connect with the other girls. Especially, when they would spend parts of the day just gushing about the person they had a crush on. Not just them, she’d overheard some of the boys talking about their crushes as well.

 

When she’d asked, her teacher had told her that they were just at that age where they were developing feelings towards their peers. She wondered if something was wrong with her. No matter who she looked at, there just wasn’t anyone who made her feel the butterflies she’d overheard them talking about.

 

Well almost. There were those dreams she kept having once in a while, of haunting eyes that elicited that very reaction. They seemed very hazy, as if obstructed by a thin veil or door that kept her from clearly remembering what happened within them. However, an image of those eyes remained seared into her mind. The very eyes she was now attempting to transfer into her sketchbook.

 

It had taken a while for her to get their shape right, for the look of them to feel right. And now she was attempting to make them the right colour as well. It was frustrating. None of the tools in her possession had the exact shade of blue she was looking for.

 

None of them able to portray the complexity of the eyes, which meant she had to use what she did have to try and get the colour. It took some trials before she was satisfied with the colour, until she finally risked using the combination to fill in the iris of her sketch, layering and mixing until it looked somewhat like what she envisioned.

 

This was not the first time she had tried to draw them; her sketchbook was filled with eyes. However, it was the first time she had attempted to do their colour justice. Some of her previous attempts seemed hideous compared to what was in front of her now.

 

She supposed that’s how learning a skill went, you get better as you go on. She did wonder as she sharpened the lines on the sketch, which still couldn’t be said to do them justice, why they haunted her so. What was it about them that made it so hard for her to look away? That invoked such strange feelings within her.

 

Sunlight streaming through the curtains makes my eyes scrunch up, nuzzling into the pillow underneath me. The light is immediately blocked but the weight around my waist and the movement underneath me make my eyes blearily open themselves. When my vision focuses, I find myself staring into a strongly built chest, a leg placed over his.

 

Tilting my head back slightly, the sight of a soundly sleeping face greets me. Making me sigh in relief. As my mind catches up to my eyes, blinking away the sleepy haze, I become more aware of the position we’re in, a blush reddening my face.

 

Deciding it’s best to calm down, I take a few deep breaths, closing my eyes until I feel the heat fading. Fortunately, the even movement of his chest tells me that he’s still asleep. The arm around my waist pulls me in tighter when I try to escape this compromising position.

 

With my ear pressed more closely against him, I can hear rapid heartbeats. His discomfort further evidenced by how he seems to be trying to engulf me entirely in his embrace. My arms subconsciously move to hug him in an attempt to comfort him, which seems to work if his loosening grip is any indication.

 

One problem though. “Chess, let go. I need to pee.” I mumble from my position trying to move out of his embrace. Squirming doesn’t work as he only holds me tighter in order to still me, as if refusing to let go.

I use my hands to smack him on the back, and then move them up to his face, poking his cheeks. Finally, his eyes open blearily to find the cause of the movement and finger poking at him. I watch as they widen in surprise, taking in our currently intertwined bodies, before moving to look into my eyes.

 

“Let go.” I state when it becomes clear he has no intention of doing so, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

Slowly a lazy grin makes its way onto his face, however he obliges and releases me, a mumbled apology coming out of his mouth. I doubt that it is sincere since he wouldn’t let me go. The look I throw over my shoulder tells him as much.

 

Coming out of the bathroom, I find that the bed has already been made, and our weapons are placed on the bedsheets in a pile.

 

“You wanted to train right?” Ryan explains, “I thought we’d do that first thing today. Just let me get changed.” He stretches his arms, yawning as he makes his way into the bathroom.

 

Deciding to follow suit, I take advantage of him no longer being in the room. I think we should get some food on the way though; we fell asleep too early yesterday to eat dinner. The groceries I’d set aside for Gem are gone, in their place is a single note from my cousin with a winking face and her name. I shake my head and continue searching for a fresh pair of clothes, although it’s good that she took them with her.

 

Finding a place to train wasn’t that hard, we just followed Liam’s instructions to an unused clearing. As we begin sparring, I relievedly note that he seems less pale and the dark circles are gone, which means that I can kick his ass without any worries. Clashing weapons also proves to be a very therapeutic way of getting out my confusion towards the creepy note. It’s also a great help in reducing the cramps in my stomach, so I’m very grateful right now.

 

Soon I find that the only thing I can focus on is moving my sword and sparring with him. Block. Lunge. Turn. Step back. Block. Lunge. When it becomes increasingly clear that neither one of us is going to win the match, although both of us come close to winning, we decide to take a break. It’s already been a few hours since we came out here, and it’d getting a whole lot hotter, we need water.

 

All of a sudden, a shiver goes down my spine, a feeling that something is very wrong. Trusting my instinct, I turn around instantly, searching for the source. My eyes scour the clearing, my sword tightening around Storm Cleaver’s hilt, until I see something slithering in the bushes. In front of my eyes, the slithering dark tentacle emerges from the bush and multiplies into several tentacles, oozing in a putrid smell.

 

Clang! Instinctively, my arm goes up to block the attack, and moves to block another as it rushes towards me. At my side, Ryan does the same, his eyes widening as he tries to hold off the attacking black membranes. Bile building up in my throat.

 

“This smell is so bad!” I exclaim, “I think I’m going to puke.” Ryan opens his mouth to answer and then closes it again as the sword in his hand breaks apart from the force of an incoming attack.

 

Eyes widening, a silent scream escapes my mouth as the tentacle holds him up in the air, one of them winding around his neck. Dread builds up as I see his face starting to turn blue, his breathing growing increasingly laboured. I try to push back the tentacles in contact with my sword, but they just won’t budge, and I can do nothing but watch.

 

I move back and they follow. I try to cut through them, and they only disperse before attacking me. Then, as the sense of helplessness grows stronger and his breathing grows softer, something snaps.

 

Blinding rage once again fills my eyes, a sudden force being emitted from my body and covering Storm Cleaver, however this time there is no heat. The tendrils of darkness hiss and fade out as the light touches them. But I spare no time focusing on them.

 

My attention is solely focused to my side, arm going up and cutting the cocoon holding him mid-air, reaching a free hand out to catch him before he completely falls before leading him to sit on the ground. His sharp intake of breath is but a soft whisper at the back as I stomp a foot on the ground, letting the energy surrounding me flow into the air, making sure there’s no lingering tendrils.

 

Then, and only then, do I bring my hand up to my face to see what surrounds it this time. The rage subsiding to allow me to see the pure white light surrounding my hand and sword, the surrounding environment now bathed in it. At that moment, as abruptly as the power had appeared, it vanishes from my sight.

 

All wonderings of the source of the power are pushed to the back of my mind. My attention returning to the man lying on the ground. Ignoring his wide eyes, frantic hands turn his head up to survey the damage, a finger tracing the light bruising at the base his neck.

 

“We need to disinfect that.” It’s giving off a terrible smell, as an imprint of the darkness remains.

 

His voice is still hoarse. “I don’t believe a simple balm will be able to do the trick.”

 

“Probably not…” An idea strikes and my hand lifts off his neck, my eyes closing as I try to concentrate. I probably look like an idiot right now, just sitting on the ground with my eyes closed, but I need to do this. It takes a couple of minutes before it works, the same light force surrounding my hand, bringing a triumphant smile to my face. I did it!

 

“This got rid of those things.” I explain, placing a hand back on his neck, “Maybe it’ll do the same to the smell.

 

“I was wondering what you were trying to do.” He chuckles silently, “I suppose using light magic comes naturally to you.”

 

“Is that what this is?” I ask, relieved to see that the smell is quickly fading.

 

“Yes.” His voice is already sounding a lot stronger, his breathing more stable.

 

“How can I use it?” It just doesn’t make sense. “It just seemed to come out of nowhere.”

 

He moves his eyes towards me, head still twisted, “Maybe it was dormant till now. Magic tends to have a mind of its own at times and is powered by strong emotions.”

 

“You have magic too.” It’s the only explanation to how he knows all this, “Don’t you?”

 

A small smile, “Yes. But it’s currently in the process of recharging.”

 

Recharging? A sudden thought crosses my mind and I narrow my eyes at him, taking my hand off his throat. “This isn’t the first time you’ve come in contact with those things, is it? They’ve been following us the whole time.”

 

“So intelligent.” He pauses, “I was able to freeze them when in contact with them before. However, this time, they caught me by surprise. They seem to be growing stronger.”

 

“And the sparring didn’t help with your exhaustion, did it?” I sigh, my hand going to the bridge of my nose. Why didn’t he say anything?

 

He gives me a reassuring smile, “Maybe not with that. But it did help keep me active.”

 

“Hmm…” Why do I get the feeling that there’s still something he’s not telling me?

Oh well. “Come on.” I say as I move to stand up, holding my hand out, “Let’s get back to the inn.”

 

He takes my hand and hoists himself up, a smile on his face as we pack up the equipment and head back. I should probably see if I can find an ointment that reduces bruising. Who knows, we may need it.

 

They had been a little surprised as to what the girl was doing there but had ultimately let her stay because she promised to pay them for the room. However, that still didn’t mean that they were happy about how she had stolen a slice of their pie. Alas, she’d paid them back with gold, so the grudge was soon forgotten.

 

Miners. They were miners, not thugs. She had been relieved to find that the inhabitants of the cottage were not as violent as her first impression may have led her to believe.

 

Teasing remarks still went around about how loud she’d screamed and her lack of decorum when coming into their home. However, it had only been a fortnight, so she supposed it was to be expected. Her father’s words about staying in the company of men unchaperoned did nag at her, but she set them aside as she had nowhere else to go.

 

The curse placed on that witch and her father’s deteriorating health meant that she couldn’t possibly go back to the castle. Especially as she no longer had her mother’s necklace. The blame may be placed upon her.

 

Attempts at persuading them to gather information about the capital had initially failed, but she had managed to convince them by the end of the first week. All it had taken was a sob story about how her father was enthralled by her stepmother. That she’d been forced out of her home.

 

She admitted that she had exaggerated the case and may have made it sound more brutal than what it was. But a girl had to find a source of information somehow. Ultimately, they had agreed to acquire knowledge about the situation in the capital whenever they passed through.

 

Which was how she had learnt that her father was barely able to stay awake and her stepmother was now in-charge of the kingdom’s affairs. The most unsettling news was that there were rumours going around that there had been a curse placed on the queen. Which meant that sometime soon one of the mages would find either the source or a cure.

 

That would be horrible. She certainly wouldn’t put it past the old man to pick a sign that may lead back to her. She cursed at her foolishness and reasoned that something had to be done fast. Before her kingdom was completely taken in by the witch just as her father was.

 

In her delusions, she did not spy the figure standing atop a tree, cloaked in red and cackling in delight. The figure supposed they should feel grateful towards the man who had helped move along their plan. Although, it was a shame that the new generation of royalty seemed so self-absorbed. A malicious grin was the only thing visible as they shrugged. It was a good thing they were so foolish.

 

Cylen was looking a lot better when we went to visit him, so we decided that we would move on in the morning. I filled them in on what happened in the clearing, and they both agreed that it was no longer safe to stay in this town. It would only put the inhabitants in danger.

They were also slightly pissed that Ryan hadn’t told them about the danger, but the feeling was only brief. They were more grateful for the silent protection than anything else. Even if Cylen did punch him in the arm first. Still though, knowing means they’ll be prepared.

 

On the way back, I’d purchased an ointment from the medicinal store, applying it to Ryan’s neck before tucking it into my bag. As it’s late, I decide that we should finally use the room service option that this inn has. Liam told me about it when I was enquiring about food and going into the kitchen to scrounge something up.

 

Looking through the menu, I slide it over to Ryan, “You pick. I don’t really know what most of these are.”

 

“Alright.” He gives it a quick scan before filling out a form and pushing it through the tube that led to the kitchen.

 

As we wait for a server to arrive, I start packing up all of our belongings. It will be easier to move on if we don’t need to do any extra packing in the morning. I’ve already said my goodbyes.