Haze of Dusk (A trilogy) (33 page)

“It is good for you. It will get you drowsy, but
when you wake it will grant you energy.” She says in a low tone. I grab the mug. “A few days after Willow’s death…” she starts in a whisper, “the lord of all war castles came to our small town with his followers, to collect new warriors, and old heroes who allegedly were liberated from battles due to harm, among them was Vin. It was then your father joined the war. He did it to protect Vin. He volunteered and took his place, but Lord Zorganther did not want Vin at a distance, for Vin had discovered and created potions that not even the strongest sorcerers or wizards ever made. Vin had knowledge, and Zorganther wanted that and much more for himself. He demanded Vin to return, but Vin declined, and dared to lift his staff to fight them, and for disrespecting the lord… Vin’s wife, his daughter and her husband were killed…in front of us all.” Vaniele shuts her watery eyes. I can tell that horrific memory causes her pain.

“There was a child left… his grandson—Vahn Srogeri. Lord kept and misused this child to force Srogeri back to Doomsvell. Because of this, I wished to help, therefore I joined
Madam Sandrine, and together we aimed to find Vin’s grandchild. Nevertheless, my old friend did not believe in her, for she’s a Srovio, most terrible, she is the daughter of the man who took his family. Vin asked me to leave her, but… I learned to trust her. I saw kindness in her, so I rejected leaving her side, and because of that, my old friend broke our friendship. And once the lord wanted him no more… Vin vanished from our sights. Fortunately, before leaving this world, he saw Sandrine's warm-heartedness, and he saw although she shares the same blood of Zorganther, they are not equal.”

“If you think
by telling me this I will be kind to that…
woman,
you are mistaking. No matter what you say or do I will always hate her for being my father’s mistress, for killing him,” I try to say calmly, yet my eyes are on fire. She bows down her head. “Very well, I won’t ask you to forgive her. But I do ask you to take away that anger from your heart. Right now, we need a strong pure heart,” she says putting the hair that falls on my face behind my ear. Her touch is soft, and her stare is sweet.  It’s difficult to hold rancor against her. “Now drink. It will make you better,” she insists, and I obey her. I gulp down the tea, and hand her the empty mug.

“What happened to
Srogeri’s grandson?” Vaniele moves her head from side to side. “Nobody but Zorganther knows. Many say he killed him. Raised him, and once old enough, he cast him to the war, no one knows," Vaniele says anguished. “Now, I shall let you slumber. Good sleep, my dear.” Vaniele’s warm lips press down my forehead. As I rest my head on my pillow, she leaves me, but I’m not at still. For now, I know my old man's wish. It's his grandson he cherished. It’s sad he didn’t get to see his grandson one last time before he passed on to the other side.

I
gradually plunge into a deep soundless sleep that brings me a dream I wish was part of my life. I dreamed of her, my mother… a dream that feels reality. She lies next to me, soothingly caressing my hair, just like Adelena caressed her daughter. My mother hums, and sings that song I know by heart, and when she’s done, my mother’s warm lips meet my cheek many times, her gentle words of love sweetening my life.

“I love you my sweet child. I'll always love you,” she whispers, str
oking my cheek. “I love you too…mommy,” it’s what I mumble before my eyes open and I realize I’m alone in my room—seeking for a love I’ve never felt, the heat of my mother. The motherly need suppresses the loneliness within me, so I close my eyes and continue doing the only activity that makes me experience her tender love.

-
27
-

At
Long last

The days gradually pass by and I remain in the castle isolated from the war, waiting for all the others to arrive from the battlefield. Who will return and who will lose their lives to the war? Please don’t let it be my friends. I want them all by my side. I dislike mourning. I suffered too much with Papa’s death, and with Srogeri’s depart. It hurts like hell to lose your loved ones. My heart can’t take another loss.

Knowledge brings boredom, although
it’s great to gain, it’s a pain in the neck. Especially if it’s taught by mean-scolding Wizard Ronneto,  who takes turns with understanding, kind Vaniele, teaching me the everyday lecture on many distinctive subjects, mainly—DO NOT OVERUSE MAGIC.  I heard it all; from how I lack intelligence to,
ye is a dim-witted, dumb, unsophisticated-brutal moron
—all said by Ronneto. How I missed my old man. He would’ve never called me names even though I make the stupidest mistakes. But, as cruel and mean as Ronneto is, he fills me in with knowledge my old man would’ve done so if alive. Ronneto, a great wizard brings to me a never-ending comprehension on sorcery. As for Vaniele, she helps me improve my healing abilities, teaching me stronger and more powerful potions that will boost my skills; therefore, I can assist several injuries, and even heal my own body, something unreachable for a young one as myself.

My
feet tingles. The sensation slowly produces overnight, all because of the plenty of antidotes, water, and Vaniele’s bitter herbal teas. She’s truly good with me. I don’t understand how can anyone be mad at her, she’s in fact, the kindest of all. I promised to be good with her, only with the condition she doesn’t talk to me about that woman. She approved,
‘anything to make me happy’
it’s what she said.

“Are you
sure
you can walk? I can bring you the food to your room—”

“I can do it,
Vaniele!!” I cut in. “Please let me do it. I feel incompetent on the bed. It's been sixteen days. Goodness…” I walk to the dinner table with the help of two wooden crutches. She gets tense when I stop. Yes, I might just drop, since my legs wiggle, but I can’t show her frailty, so I continue until the end.

Vaniele sits on a small round table with three chairs. For the first time ever
, I get to see the instructor’s mealroom. A wonderful, organized room with hefty chandeliers, fancy round tables, and wall ornaments. She picks up a golden bell and rings it, an elf maid appears in a spark. I scoff. I’m blown by the personal service the instructors get. The maid bows,

“M
adam Vaniele, what might be your order today?"

“
We will require three of today’s special, please,” the maid nods and dissolves with a flimsy-illumination. Ronneto enters the room with a smirk on his face, and fully showered, I can tell because of his damp hair. He sits next to Vaniele and flashes me an awkward smile. “I see ye is better…finally. Using a high amount of powers is out of the question. Ye is not
allowed
to do so.” Ronneto reproaches again.  Instead of complimenting my well being he reminds me of my dim act—he’s very different from Srogeri—uncaring. “I know already, and I said
sorry
. I was
really
sensitive and when I saw how many people died, it upset me.” I say anticipating compassion, but there’s no sympathy on their visages, only humor and disapproval.

“I
wanted to ask ye. How did ye know about Srogeri?” I frown. I can’t tell them I ran away. They’ll scold me to death.
“I want to know why you all lied to me. Do you know how hard it was for me to find out that awful man took away not only my father, but my old man…” my eyes water as I speak of it. “I hate him so much…I never thought I would want a person dead so badly like I want Zorganther,” I hiss flushed with anger. My stomach hurts as I say his name. Their expression changes and there is unhappiness in both. I can see they’re bothered by my hatred. How can I not hate him? Even if I try not to, within me it has produced and nothing will take it away. Only the death of Zorganther Srovio will set me free. But I don’t want him to die in anyone’s hands, but my own.

A
rumbling racket wakes me. I can hear banging and screaming—it can’t be, after thirty-two days, it has finally happened. I instantly dress myself. After twenty days my legs became stronger, still, it hurts a crumb when there is too many motions, but I can handle the pain. I run out my room to find the many Doomsvell natives celebrating their survival by screaming,

“W
e are back!” eagerly. I sprint to my friend’s room, but the emptiness springs my intestines. Either they haven’t arrived or they didn’t make it. I rush downstairs, shoving the hectic people that clutch like balls not leaving an open path.  I encounter a few boys in a mustard hood, one of them with a curly ponytail similar to Ramuso. Doubtful, I take the boy’s shoulder, but a stranger turns and smiles at me.

I grimace.

“Hey, aren’t you—” before he can finish I hurry away. I don’t have time to spare. For one last time, I look around the large crowded hall. I stand in despair, could it be something dreadful occurred? I slam a hand on my pounding heart. “Zayras!” I choke on my gasp, for I see my best friend a few feet away from me, waving his hand on the air— my heart falls at rest. I dash his way and throw my entire body and soul to him, squeezing the life out of him.

“Ah
, you’re killing me! I’m going to die. Get off!” he can’t handle my embrace.

“Dumb kid, I’ll give anything for Judy to be on me,” Onnet says from behind, next to him
is Corr, Osys, and Ikumus. I run to Corr and throw my arms around him like a small child. He automatically replies, but it’s not only his embrace I receive, but all of theirs together…surprisingly, even Ikumus—he was pushed into the hug by Ramuso. I hear him shout, “get off me, nitwit!" “I’m going to kill you.” And even though I’m being squished, and I can barely breathe, I'm pleased, for my family is well.

The mealroom is packed with the survivors. Because of our victory, every member will receive the best meal of their lives.  The cheering is pleasant to listen to,
but with the cheering comes the mourning, for many lost their lives. To hear the painful cries my heart becomes unbearable. “We should pull your ear out for tormenting us like that.” Corr says resting his hand on top of mine. We sit on our dinner table, eating grains, beans, vegetables, and to those who love meat, a nice juicy lamb, our victory meal. “I’m sorry I troubled you all. Where is Azania?” I scowl. I stand and peek at the ribbons.  Hands cover my eyes, by the softness in them I know who it is. “Guess who?” I recognize that tiny voice anywhere, “Azania!” I say relief. I turn to meet with the pretty elf. We hug. I’ve never felt so glad to see her.

“I’m so
happy you’re well. I cried so much because of you.” And yes, I do believe her. She’s truthfully a crier. Azania sits next to me. “Everyone was so mad at me. They almost killed me. I was so scared.” I giggle at her exaggeration.

“You are silly,
” I say.

“Oh, but she is telling the truth. Headmistress Srovio was so angry
, she sent Azania to our rank for us to care for her. They didn’t want to even look at her,” coming from Corr, I got chills. That witch cares? Of course, she wants my powers for her own selfish reasons. “Well, we are here and we are all well. I told you I’d returned." I say to her happily. She scoffs. I'm sure at my relax poise.

“And she says it with such confidence. I heard you almost died. You really are courageous Judyala…first woman to prove me wrong.” Ikumus says taking a sip of his fruit juice. I stare at him with a smile, lately he is opening up. Although he doesn’t admit it, I know he cares
for me. He’s my good friend; part of our family.  Hyper-Ramuso stands on top of the table, startling us. He hits his wineglass with a spoon.

“Excuse me, can I have e
veryone’s attention,” I panic. I’m worry he’ll get in trouble.
Not an hour back and this brat already wants to break rules
.

“Get down!”
I beg him, but he insists staying up until all attention is his. Past persistence, he gets what he wants. The room falls into silence, and Ramuso stands tall, all eyes on him. I’m panicking. I’m praying the witch doesn’t come.

“I know many have di
ed, and it’s an awful thing. Yet also plenty of us survived, and there’s a reason for that. A reason why we came back to Doomsvell so quickly… the reason… why many of us are here today is thanks to you…” he looks down at me. I look behind me, assuring I’m the only one he views.

“Thank you, Judyala!”
my heart accelerates to hear him say my name. “Because of your remarkable power, hundreds of arclaws came down, rapidly dying. You killed them…you saved us… if this continues, I have to say… I finally have faith this world will soon be free from those demons,” his words strike me in my chest, rapidly watering my eyes, “Judyala! Judyala!” they all chant. I can’t take it. His words don’t bring me joy but break my heart, because now I know I’m the one responsible for killing the arclaws, meaning… I am held responsible for killing beings who only seek freedom. I rush out of the room in despair, holding my tears from running down my eyes. I can’t cry in the halls. I can’t show weakness.

I
saunter down the passage, sniffing. I want to reach my room and whimper. Ask the skies for forgiveness, again, I have killed inconsiderately. Now, I don’t only carry the burden of killing that boy, but also the arclaws.