The dreams came later, forming images of fire and blood out of the haphazard shards of memory that the mage had returned to him. He woke up more than once, covered in a slim sheen of cold sweat, only to find himself staring at a blank, silent, nothingness each time.
Damn that Noel, he quietly swore. Or perhaps he said those words out loud into the emptiness of the dungeon. He found it hard to say, and that bothered him for some reason.
Eventually, he forced his eyes shut to ignore the darkness, and tossed himself off the cliff of reality into an ocean of dreams.
“Hey, wake up.”
The warm rumbling voice dragged him back from the land of sleep to a world of stone bathed in light. A man stood over him, holding a ball of smooth, clear crystal imbued with a gentle blue glow in one hand. He had calm, keen green eyes set in an aged, wrinkled face with a full head of short grey hair. He wore a simple teal tunic over dark brown leather pants and had a matching pair of boots to complete the ensemble.
“You…you’re Proudclad.”
Declan Proudclad smiled. “Last I checked, yes.”
Artyom stared at him for moment. “If you’re here because N…I mean, Commander Goering sent you, the answer is still no.”
The old man shook his head. “Actually I had heard that the commander came here three days ago, and my curiosity got the better of me when I was informed that someone had been bold enough to outright refuse him. To gaze upon the face of the only man in the entire kingdom who was able to deflect the commander’s irresistible charm…that’s why I’m here.”
Artyom chuckled under his breath, though it sounded more like the rasp of a dying man. “Well, you’re looking at the brave fool. Does he meet your expectations?”
Declan studied him quietly. Then he shrugged. “Somewhat,” he answered.
“Thought as much.”
The old man proceeded to sit down on the floor, bringing his other hand out from behind his back while dropping the glow-crystal. On it rested a bowl of warm soup with sizable chunks of meat and vegetables floating in it. “I brought you some riso soup,” he announced.
A loud growl escaped from Artyom’s belly at the sight of food. “You trying to poison me, old man?”
“Perhaps.” Declan put the bowl to his lips, took a lengthy sip, then placed it on the ground between them. He licked a few stray drops off his bottom lip. “Perhaps not.”
Artyom narrowed his eyes. “And what if you took the antidote beforehand?”
“Then my family would be dead by now from the poisoned supper my daughter made.” He smiled. “Worry not, Artyom Volk. I am no friend of Goering, neither does he have any fondness for me. Of that much I can assure you.”
“Well in that case…” Artyom snatched up the bowl and bolted down the entirety of its contents. The old man watched him eat in silence, nodding in approval once he had licked it clean of soup and swallowed the last bit of meat. Artyom handed the empty wooden bowl back to him, and he promptly tossed it into a corner of the dungeon that the light of the crystal could not touch.
They sat in silence for some time, each observing the other with a cool, detached air. “You’re here for something else,” Artyom said eventually.
“What makes you say that?”
“Curious or no, our beloved queen’s bodyguard does not simply visit a prisoner with riso soup and friendly banter.”
Declan blinked, then erupted in a hearty laugh. “Indeed, my friend. You are very much correct.” He grinned for a moment, then dropped it for a grim and somber expression. “Yes, I came here for another reason. I came…to give you the same offer that Goering did.”
“Then I-”
The elderly bodyguard held up a hand. “No, hear my bargain first. Then you can decide what you want.”
Artyom kept his mouth shut with a frown.
Declan closed his eyes, staying that way for what seemed like an eternity. Just as Artyom began to fear that the old man had fallen asleep, he spoke, “You are the second person to hear of this, and I wish that no one else should know about it. Her Radiance’s power…is fading.”
“Fading? What do you mean ‘fading’?”
“Just that. Her light is growing dimmer by the day.” Declan opened his eyes, and there was a certainty in its depths that sent a shiver down Artyom’s spine. “For now, no one has noticed this since the dimming comes and goes and she is often in her quarters. But the time it takes between dims is starting to reduce…drastically. And with the coming of the Dawn Festival, it won’t be long before someone finds out the truth.”
The old man looked away. “But I fear someone…or something…must already know this. Five days back, an umbreon attacked Her Radiance in her private garden.”
The prisoner’s eyes narrowed at that but he chose to say nothing about it.
“As I said, no one knows the mastermind behind the assassination, but with the queen’s power fading…it’s only a matter of time before the next attack happens, and we might not be so lucky then.”
“So you want more bodyguards.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Declan coughed. “But this time, we are not looking for mere protectors. We want sharp, intelligent and strong soldiers. We want people that can guard, fight and be able to follow the trail left by our assassin back to the source while we figure out the cause of the queen’s fading power. We want to bring back the Radiant Guard.”
“The Radiant Guard? But that’s just a bard’s tale told around campfires!”
The old man slowly got to his feet then, brushing at the creases of his pants. “Be that as it may. I offer you this, Artyom Volk; help me save Her Radiance or I kill you here and now so that a mind and body like yours does not go to waste. The choice…is yours to make.”
Gryphon's Nest 2.0 