I awoke with a start, my heart racing, my head spinning. Screams, I thought I heard screaming. My blankets fall about my waist and I reach over for my sword, but my hand closes on empty air. Where did my sword go? I look around at the stone room and blink to myself as the familiar site of my bedroom in Castle Jinosa fills my vision. Why was I going for a sword? Father wouldn’t let me have a sword. I asked and asked but he kept putting me off.
Birthday.
That’s right, it’s my birthday. Perhaps today he would finally give me that sword I’ve wanted. Maybe that’s what woke me up, I was dreaming about finally getting a sword, going off on some adventure. I could have sworn I was in Lithmore its self. Perhaps there as some great hero, celebrated by all.
I toss my blankets to the side and sit up on the edge of the bed. I lift my legs, pulling my knees to my chest several times, my rhythm practiced like I had done this for ages, warming myself up before I start my day. But why am I doing that? I’ve never done that before? I shake my head with confusion. I mustn’t let Mother know about this. She worries so much. It’ll be like last year when I wanted to go out to the woods with Lucas. If she can’t find me, she won’t be able to stop me.
I hastily throw on my clothes, leaving my hat behind, conveniently. Death to hats. I tear my way out of my room and throw open Siras’ door and peer in to find that he has gone. Oh well, he’s probably with his nose in the books. I run out to try and find Brandon. He was always more fun to spend time with anyway. He had a sword. He always got the best of everything.
I frown to myself and look around, his room is empty too. Was the hall empty too? I can’t remember. Ah well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just head to the stables. I blink and find myself holding a saddle. My hand runs over the hard leather and I stand there for a few moments before I remember myself and step forward to saddle my horse. This much I knew often enough. Lucas worked in the stables. Works. It feels like ages since I’ve seen him.
I am just finishing securing the saddle when Siras’ voice comes from outside. “There is a Knight here.” I look up and over at him and in my best imitation of Brandon I tell him, “Of course there is a Knight here, there are lots of Knights here. They train here.”
“This one has come to take you away,” Siras taunts. He had been doing that for weeks. “I heard them talking. They are going to feed you to the Daravi.” I felt my anger welling up inside of me. I couldn’t control it. “They don’t love you, you aren’t any use to them, that’s what they do to third sons,” he taunted me again. This always happened. I couldn’t remember where it started if I hit him first or he taunted me first. Him with his words and brain, me with my fists and muscles.
I threw myself at him, knocking him off of his feet and sending whatever book he had that week scattered into the dirt. There was no form, there was no style, just raw child anger and frustration as my little fists swung into him again and again. I felt a sharp stab of pain as he kicked me and then started tugging on my hair. We rolled in the dirt, over something that mother would hope is dirt, but wasn’t until a bellow ripped the air.
“What is the meaning of this.” I barely had time to register fathers voice before I felt a hand that certainly wasn’t his, for it was bound by gauntlets grab the back of my shirt and heft me up as if I were nothing. My eyes lifted and there before me was a bearded face, alien, yet so familiar. Without hearing it I knew his name, Sir Anthony ab Warthop. Why did I know him?
I’m on my knees, sand coursing around me, biting through the cloth I had wrapped about my face. Sir ab Warthop in my arms, his face charred. Where were the god damned medics? This storm, this accursed storm and those damned Daravi. Hold on, hold on damn you. But I knew it was too late, my Knight Master was gone.
I blink and look into the face, so much younger and I turn to look to my father. He was speaking to me. “… is going to take you to train you. You are going to be his page.” I shake my head this wasn’t right. I don’t want to go. I don’t want you to go.
I am shaken awake and a squire stands above me, a letter in his hands. “From Vees, my Lord. Post just arrived.” I ease myself up, my hand coming to my side. I was back in a hospital. I had taken a spear to the side. It was almost healed. I would be going back to the fighting soon. Shaking my head I broke the seal and absently glance at the name. Mother? Did Siras finally get married? I read on and my heart sank
Dead, they are all dead. I hastily look to the ground where I had been fighting Siras. He lay there now, his face ghostly pale, looking up at me with accusing eyes. “Siras, my brother… I am so sorry…” Movement to the side. Brandon, tall strong, everything I idolized, now shriveled and weak, his face pale, his eyes sunken and lifeless save the hatred within. Father, skin ragged, disappointment full on his face. “Why have you abandoned us?” his voice, dry as the grave fills my ears.
“I haven’t, Father, Brothers I am doing my best…” I protest, but the weight of their judgement weighs in on me. I feel I am being crushed. My breath goes from my lungs. I struggle for every gasp of breath. The darkness closes in around me.
With a snap of my head I wake up, panting for breath. Sweat drenches my body and I look out through the window as the morning light filters in. My hand reaches over and I feel the reassuring grip of my blade. Just a dream. Just a dream.
I rub the side of my face and throw my blankets to the side as I move to sit on the edge of the bed. My legs lift, my knees going to my chest once, twice, three times… I repeat this until I reach twenty and then I relax. My gaze wonders to the bed stand and I see the letter. For a moment my heart freezes cold. But as the sleep leaves me I remember, it was just from my mother. Wishing me a happy birthday.
I pick up the letter and look it over sadly, a frown filling my features. I want to be happy, I have been happy, but I let myself be distracted. Slowly I set the letter back down and turn my gaze to the window, staring out at the new day, bright and hopeful. I feel as if I am caught on the cusp. But how do I find that balance, so I don’t topple over?