The Great War: Chapter 48
Duty calls
The door to Samuel’s room swings open before Devin can even knock. He stands before his advisor with bloodshot eyes, a hint of gray beneath them, and yet he appears to be bursting with energy to start the new cycle.
“Did you sleep at all?” Devin can’t help but inquire.
“Not enough,” Samuel admits. “Any word on Mathew?”
“He was sent to the tents just the other cycle,” Devin nods.
“Good. Let’s go see him.”
“Now?”
“Better now than later.”
Devin holds back a sigh. Who is he to argue with royalty like this? He holds his hand out to Samuel and closes his eyes, envisioning the tent where they first found Ezra. A heaviness washes over him as the two are transported across the island in an instant, the urge to return to bed strong. He’s not fully awake himself.
He opens his eyes as the cool air of the outside hits his face, and his stomach churns and leaps sickeningly. He does his best to remain composed as possible as Samuel is already rushing towards the tent flanked by the two guards Devin assigned to watch over Mathew. He’s also still not used to teleporting, not helped by the fact that he’s been transporting Samuel to and from Ica the last couple of cycles. He’s reaching a limit of his own. He doesn’t want to find out what happens if he pushes himself too far too fast. Maybe when they return to the castle, he’ll let Samuel know.
Samuel is already talking to Isaac by the time Devin musters the strength to stagger forward, the Illusionist clearly annoyed by the return of the royal. His arms are crossed and his face in set in a hard scowl as the two beings struggle to keep their voices low as to not disturb any beings still asleep this early into the cycle.
“And you can’t just let him rest?” Isaac hisses. “Spend some time with his sister and take in his surroundings?”
“This is important business pertaining to the war,” Samuel replies firmly. “Step aside now or I’ll have the guards detain you.”
“Interfering with official royal business is punishable by five years in the dungeon at the least,” Devin adds, stepping up to do his duty. He puts himself between Isaac and Samuel with a dark glower. “But I’d give you ten just for how many times we’ve had to talk with you.”
Isaac raises his chin defiantly. “I didn’t run from the Guardians just to be bullied by you wizard royals, and neither did they-”
Devin finally reaches for his scythe, unstrapping it from his back and holding its curved blade up to the Illusionist’s neck. “Last warning. Step aside.”
Isaac remains silent for a long moment, appearing conflicted over the order. No doubt he wants to let Mathew rest a little longer and spend more time with his sister, but when war calls and the royals come asking, it’s not his job to be in the way. He only delays the inevitable from happening.
The Illusionist takes a single long step to the right, letting the royals get to the tent’s opening. His jaw is clenched as he stares at the ground.
“Watch him,” Devin instructs one of the guards as he pulls the fabric of the tent open, gesturing for Samuel to enter.
The tent is dimly lit, the two Cryomancers propped up on a mound of cushions in one of the back corners. Anya looks up from picking over a half piece of plain bread, her eyes wide with mild shock and surprise. Mathew hold no bread, but his bulging cheeks clearly indicate that he’s swallowed something whole.
“Excuse the intrusion,” Samuel says to them. He turns to Mathew and asks, “How are you doing?”
The brother sits up as best he can, his arms moving stiff and slow. His mouth is still full but he manages to give a positive nod.
“I hope you’ve thought about our discussion these last few cycles.”
Once again, Mathew nods along, seemingly doing his best to finish his food as fast as his mouth can allow. Anya clutches the bread in her hands tight, a tinge of anxiety starting to show on her face.
“I am aware that neither of you are from Korodon,” Samuel continues, “but we need not only an experienced sailor but a being who knows how the Guardians operate. It will be a big responsibility.”
Finally, Mathew takes one last swallow and opens his mouth to speak at last, “I may not know as much as some others, but I’ve learned more than enough from those Guardian bastards.” He starts to rise from the mound of cushions, though the strain on his face shows that the effort is far from easy.
“You’re going to go with them?” Anya asks, springing to her feet in an instant.
“Aye,” Mathew replies. “Might as well pull some weight.” His eyes are full of determination as he places a hand on his sister’s shoulder, though it’s hard to say if it’s to reassure her or to use her to balance. “Luck didn’t save me, Anya. The Spirit did. I was meant to be here.”
Samuel can’t seem to help but smile. “A room has already been prepped for you and-”
“Room?” Mathew asks, a scowl flashing across his face in an instant.
“In the castle, for you to use however you wish.”
But the Cryomancer’s determination is all but gone, reluctance in its place. The siblings turn to face each other, both of them taken aback by the thought of separating once more so soon.
“Will you be alright with Isaac?” he asks.
Anya nods once, mustering a weak grin. “It’ll be easier now. Don’t forget to visit.”
“But-”
His sister gives him a hug, much to Mathew’s apparent surprise. Devin can’t help but tilt his head, trying to make sense of the dynamic. He loves Ferris but he hardly spends any time with his brother to miss him much, knowing full well he’s safe with his mother. To Samuel, this must all make even less sense, seeing as he has no other family left to turn to.
Anya pulls away, her smile much more confident and relaxed. “I don’t think either of us are going anywhere any time soon.”
Mathew still doesn’t appear too convinced, but he does his best to appear somewhat cheerful for his sibling.
“Aye,” he halfheartedly chuckles. “That’s true.”
He turns away from her before either of them can say anything more, not wanting to drag out the conversation any longer than it needs to be. Devin sucks in a breath, bracing himself for the trip back to the castle with one extra being. This might be the last one he does for a little while; he still feels slightly queasy from earlier, and he hasn’t had anything to eat yet.
“Devin, if you could,” Samuel says to his advisor. With a small sigh, Devin holds a hand out to Mathew as the royal beside him rests his own on Devin’s shoulder. The Cryomancer frowns with mild confusion but takes it firmly nonetheless. With the slightest nudge from his mind, Devin takes them all back to the castle’s grand throne room.
Mathew lets out a surprised gasp as he takes in the sudden new sight, stumbling aback on stiff legs. Samuel wastes no time in stepping forward and placing a guiding hand on the Cryomancer’s arm, leading him to the secret chamber to meet the Spirit.
Devin, however, sits on the steps leading up to the throne, taking a moment to recollect himself as his gut churns violently, threatening to rise and escape through his mouth. After a couple of deep, controlled breaths, he manages to squash the sensation, but the unease still remains in its place. He forces himself to stand, easily slipping back into his composure, and strides off after the two wizards. Now is not the time to let his own weaknesses get in the way of his job.
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