Reawakening/Part One
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Reawakening, Part One
Lightning parted the clouds and a crack of thunder caused the room to shudder. Antius looked to Borelean. The boy was unfazed; he sat, staring into the fire, with the same look he had worn for over a month. He was acting the part of a soon-to-be-King, not allowing his mother's labored breathing to break his will. Antius knew she had taught him to be like this, to hide his emotions and not give an inch to the world.
It had only been a few months, eight to be exact, since Elysa and Antius had become lovers. It was no great surprise to the boy, nor was it a surprise to Asheron. Others on the Council had been wary. Antius was an unknown. His efforts across Dereth had only started to be recognized within the past two years. He was sometimes clumsy with his words and often overzealous in his endeavors. Many marked him as a passing fancy. None had expected him to become Seneschal.
He would not be King. The prospect of being given such a lofty title left him sour. His roots were in exploration and discovery; there was no need to soil his life with the unwanted adoration or scrutiny of the masses. Instead, he joined the Council as chief diplomat, an area that all other members agreed he excelled in, and the rumors of his affair with Elysa were tempered. Many of the discoveries of the past eight months were either his directly or were directed by his hand. He never wanted glory, only scholarship. Now, all he wanted was for Elysa to wake up.
Borelean heard a thin raspy whistle emanate from his mother and turned toward her stoically, "Antius? If she passes, will the Maidens take her?"
Antius looked into the fire and searched for words that would console the boy, but he knew consolation was not what the boy wanted—so much like his mother. He cleared his throat and placed a hand on Borelean's shoulder, "If the Maidens can reach their hands to this world, they will take your mother back to Ispar, and she will sup with Pwyll at a great hero's feast." The boy nodded. Antius squeezed his shoulder gently and looked toward Elysa. They each allowed their gaze to fix upon her for a moment.
The firelight danced over her motionless form, shadows caressed her cheeks and hid within the folds of her blanket, emerging with each new flicker of the flames. The gentle heave of her chest continued despite the poison that coursed through her veins, though she sometimes strained, she still breathed. Antius suspected who the assassin had been, but there was little that he could do at the moment. Not now. Nuhmudira had seen to the destruction, or at least the repulsion, of the Ancient Olthoi Queen from Knorr, but she had disappeared immediately after. Jenavere and Hendac had reported that the Olthoi Queen was routed, but not gone. They had also reported the arrival of cadres of Undead in her wake.
He had dispatched the pair to investigate newly discovered tunnels earlier this very day, and the weather had turned to a bitter chill. The air was crisp and the clouds dark and as the first sign of winter's wrath closed in about them he had asked Borelean to sit with him and his mother this evening. It was commonplace now. He had asked the same question for each of the past nights for more than a month. The pair looked back to the fire, and a chill wind crept through the slats of the winter shutters. Rain and hail began to pelt the stonework outside.