by Adam Watson
After a very quiet but thorough search of the house and its three bedrooms, Dray was finally satisfied that they were alone, and for the first time since leaving the Temple, he felt like he could relax - at least until the sun rose.
"We should be safe for a while," he whispered. "But we need to stay quiet, in case any patrols come by." The Oracle had made her way into the small kitchen and was quietly going through the cupboards in the hope of finding something to eat.
"No fires, no cooking," she added. Any fire would create smoke, and smoke could be seen and smelt from far away and traced back to its source. The last thing they wanted was a demonic patrol knocking on the door and asking them what was for dinner.
There has to be something back here, she thought, as she rifled through the bottom draw. Suddenly she looked up, right in front of her, on the bench, was a small wooden box - her heart began to race with excitement. It’s a breadbox! But did it have anything in it? It would be a bitter, bitter disappointment if it didn't. She hesitated, could she bear it if it were empty? Her stomach grumbled loudly, 'Open the damned box!' It said.
Inside was a small loaf. She took a nibble, and yes, of course, it was stale, but that was to be expected. At least it doesn't have mould growing on it. She grabbed the loaf and slyly walked back to Dray with her prize. Dray watched her approach, even in the darkening room he could make out her smug smile.
"Look what I found," she sang, feeling quite proud of her efforts. Dray looked down into her hand and to the loaf.
"It should go well with this," he replied, lifting up a ceramic jug; it still had water in it, and it was still fresh. The Oracle's eyes lit up, water had never looked so good.
They went into the smallest bedroom, the one that had no window, and sat down in the dark; feasting on half a loaf of stale bread and a shared jug of water. There were candles in the house if they needed light, but they both agreed that it was too risky, fearing that any flickering could be seen from the outside.
After the small meal, Dray was still hungry, in fact, so was the Oracle, but at least the bread had taken the edge off. There was nothing productive they could do now except to rest, so they laid down on the small bed together; Dray on his back, the Oracle snuggled neatly into his side. He placed his arm around her, it didn’t seem weird anymore, it seemed natural, it seemed right, and the Oracle seemed to feel the same way, she seemed to like having his arm around her.
Outside the wind raged like a howling tempest as rain pelted the city. Dray was glad they weren’t stuck out in that; the safety of this small room made him smile in the darkness. The Oracle felt safe under his arm, he could feel it through the bond. Don't worry, I will protect you Oracle. Even though she had told him to use her name, he couldn't help but think of her as 'the Oracle.' It felt more ... right. Like … that was the way it should be. She was the Oracle of Tempus, and he was her protector, her ... Torac. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
***
When Dray opened his eyes again the windowless room was still dark, even so, he was sure daylight had come. His back ached and stung, he hadn’t noticed the pain the night before, but the scalding he had taken from the beast had finally manifested upon his flesh. He didn’t complain though. Instead, he thanked the gods that he was still alive.
The Oracle was gone, but he didn’t worry, with the strange bond he could feel her near and knew she was safe; he got up and walked to the kitchen.
The Oracle was going through the cupboards again, with the morning light coming through the glazed window it was much easier to see. She was bent over, scrounging around the bottom level, giving him a nice view of her behind.
"Found anything interesting?" he asked. The Oracle lifted her head and quickly turned around startled, once she realised it was only Dray, she smiled.
"Oh, you're finally awake are you sleepy head?" Dray entered the room stretching, his back was sore and tight from the burning.
"You should have woken me," Dray snapped. The Oracle smiled again, she already knew his concerns.
"Don’t get testy with me … you needed the rest. You won’t be able to protect anyone if you’re exhausted." Dray shrugged, he knew she was right, he did need the rest and felt much better for it. "Now turn around and let me look." He turned around and showed her the wound. "Does it hurt?" she asked, looking at the scorched skin.
"A little," Dray answered. It did sting, but it didn't hurt as much as he thought it should have.
"The power of Tempus helps you,” she said, motioning to the ring. “You won’t die from this, and by that, I mean it won’t fester, it won’t go green, not as long as you wear at least one of the Ice Bands, but we need to get you to a healer soon, or you'll be scarred for life."
“One of the Ice Bands?” enquired Dray, with a quizzical squint. “You mean there are more?”
“There are five. Two rings, two bracers, and a headpiece; all going together to form a set called ‘The Ice Bands of Tempus.' All the Toracs in the world have a set associated with their god … but very few have a complete set.” Dray nodded his head, something about the gods actually made sense. “Each piece serves a different purpose, and each piece you find will increase your powers.” Dray smiled. Increase my powers? Now that was intriguing.
“What kind of powers?” The Oracle’s eyes narrowed as she began to think to herself whether or not she had revealed too much, too soon. Lust for power was never a good thing, and it would only lead them down a dark path.
“That … I don’t know,” she lied. “But someone at the Temple will …” Suddenly she cast her eyes to the floor, she had just remembered the destruction of her own Temple, she looked upset. “Someone at another Temple that is.” Dray walked over and put his arm around, comforting her.
“Kayla … I’m sorry about what happened to you and your Temple. It must be hard …”
“No harder than for anyone else who has lost their homes and families,” she cut in with bitter defiance. “I’m no more special than anyone else.” Despite her brave act, Dray could tell she was upset.
“But you are special Kayla. You’re the Oracle. You’re more special than anyone.” The Oracle smirked.
“You have to say that.” Dray blinked, a little unsure by what she meant. “Do you even know what an Oracle is or what they’re supposed to do?” she asked, looking him in the eyes. He stared back at her blankly. “I didn’t think so.”
“Of course I do,” he answered, at least he thought he knew. Surely, he did know, he should at least have a vague idea.
“Shhhh … I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Dray was about to press it further when the Oracle suddenly changed the topic.
“Look what I found,” she said, motioning to the small pile on the kitchen table. Dray looked and was pleasantly surprised, it appeared to be a small pile of rations. There was another loaf of bread, and when he pressed on it, it wasn’t rock hard, things were looking up. There were some biscuits and something which appeared to be dry, salted pork; there were also two turnips and a carrot. The turnips looked … all right … if he became desperate that was. The carrot, though … that looked like it had seen better days; next to the carrot was a small pouch.
“That doesn’t actually have money in it, does it?” asked Dray in disbelief. The Oracle nodded and smiled, she could hardly believe it herself.
“It does, not a lot mind you. Ten coppers only, but at least it’s something.” Dray nodded with his own little smile. The Oracle was right, it wasn’t much, but it was something, it was enough to buy more food if they ever escaped the city – it was enough to keep them alive just a little bit longer.
Escaping the city. That was still his number one priority. The tunnels below were too dangerous to traverse at the moment, so that option was out for the time being. Hopefully, they could find another way out, if not, they would be forced to wait until the tunnels were safer – how long that would take was anyone’s guess.
Either way, it was clear that they were
going to be spending more time in the city than either one of them would have liked. That meant that they would need to protect themselves. The thought of protection gave Dray an idea … it was a dangerous idea … an idea that could get them both killed.
“We should visit the store and the blacksmith.” There was no need to tell the Oracle why - it meant more food and some weapons. Dray watched her closely, he could tell by her demeanour that she was thinking about the danger involved. “We can’t stay in here forever.” The Oracle sighed, she could hardly argue with that. The food she had would only last a day, two at the most.
"Well, all right, but I'm taking this as well." She lifted up a small hessian carry sack; it had a conveniently placed strap which she slung over her shoulder.
"It suits you," said Dray, with a smile.
"Har, har. As long as I can stash some food in it, it'll be fine."
"Do you want me to carry it?" Dray thought he should at least try to be gentlemanly - she was still the Oracle after all.
"No, that's fine, but if you're going to be the protector in this relationship we should at least get you a sword.” The light shone in Dray’s eyes. Yes … a sword. That is what he was missing, a perfectly balanced sword. He doubted that he would find a perfectly balanced sword at the blacksmith’s, but surely there would be something worthwhile. Even the tongs would be a better weapon than nothing.
Dray thought about the sword that had manifested itself in his hands. A weapon that seemed to be made from crystallised glass, but harder than steel, yes, he could use that - that particular sword was perfectly balanced, but … no, he could not rely on that one. Until he had more control over his powers, a steel-forged sword would have to suffice – as it always had.
“To the blacksmiths then.”
They exited the little house and walked out into the alleyway. The day was bright, the sun was gleaming - they would have to be careful if they wanted to travel the city undetected.
They continued on in search of a blacksmiths. Dray knew there was more than one in Candelier City, but he wasn’t as familiar with the eastern side of the city as he was the western, where he grew up.
Dray thought back to his parents, they had both died when he was young. They had lived somewhere on the western side of the city, but he couldn’t recall the exact house in which they lived. They were merchants and were both killed by bandits whilst travelling to Amalicia City to trade - he was just a toddler at the time and was staying with his aunt.
It was only later, when he was older, did he realise how much of a bitch his aunt was. She had inherited the money and property of his parents on his behalf, as his lawful guardian, but instead of using that money to look after him, she had sent him into the army’s orphanage where he was raised and trained to be a soldier.
It was only when he discovered that he had been swindled out a small fortune did a burning desire manifest itself. At first, it was rage and revenge that drove him, but over time he realised that material things were superficial - they wouldn’t help him in the army, it was his hard training day in and day out that made him the best. Vengeance dissipated, he didn’t need riches to be the kind of person he wanted to be.
It was sometime around noon when they finally neared the blacksmiths. They didn’t approach it straight away, they knew the Creed could be near. Sooner or later somebody would be sent to retrieve the weapons and anything else of value; if it hadn’t happened already - neither of them wanted to be in there if the Creed decided that today would be that day.
They crouched behind a barrel, a good thirty to forty yards from the smith and watched in silence for fifteen minutes. They watched the entrance, they watched the surrounding area, they watched the rooftops and the windows. They watched the doors, the roads, and even the horse’s food trough. They were watching everything - they were even watching to see if anyone was watching them.
Any sign of movement, any sign of life was meaningful. It could mean that they had found survivors; if that were the case, then they could band together and help one another to get out of the city, but movement could also mean the demon horde or worse - a bestial patrol. That would be very, very bad, but there was no sign of anything except abandonment.
“I think it should be safe, but let’s not be tardy.” The Oracle nodded her agreement, they walked out and crossed the main road on which the blacksmiths was situated. There was a feeling of exposure, anyone could be watching the smith from a distance - if they were, they would be spotted for sure.
Upon entry it was obvious someone had already ransacked the place. There were weapons, but most them were only half-finished or of poor quality; tools and materials lay scattered about. The place looked like it had been abandoned when the fighting broke out and then pillaged by the cities own citizens in a desperate attempt to protect themselves. Dray's heart sank a little, the chance of finding a decent sword had just dropped dramatically. Still, he wasn’t about to abandon the place yet, maybe they had missed something.
They both sifted through the debris. Dray picked up a half-finished dagger; the blade edge itself was blunt, but it still had a sharp point to it. You can stab someone just fine with this. It was certainly better than using his bare fists. He was about to turn to the Oracle and tell her that there was nothing else of value, when instead she turned to him.
“Shhhh,” she whispered quietly. The grip on Dray’s dagger tightened as the Oracle pointed to the door that led outside. “There’s someone there,” she mouthed.
Bright lights and blue flames weren’t going to serve Dray now, a different light shone in his eyes. He didn’t need a magical ring, he was an elite soldier of the Royal Army. He had his skill, his mastery of weapons and his reflexes; this time he was going to have to rely on them to protect the Oracle - and that was just fine by him. He motioned to her to take cover and hide. Peering through the window, he could see a group of Creed, and his heart raced.
This wasn’t a group of twisted monsters like he had encountered in the castle; slow and easy to cut down. These were worse, much, much worse. These were foul, grey-skinned demons with huge black horns and burning eyes. He had seen their kind before, on the battlefield. Why are they here? Someone must have seen them enter and alerted the guards, he crouched and waited for them to enter.
The door slowly opened, and in his mind Dray laughed. You’re too late for a sneak attack fools. The first demonspawn looked in warily before entering the room. It crept forward, looking every which way, as though expecting a sneak attack. As soon as there was room, a second one entered behind it. This is going to be a fucking bloodbath. Dray could feel the adrenaline building inside. These brutes were big, but he doubted they would have anywhere near the strength of the bestials he fought underneath the city. That encounter had shaken him, but this was no time to be a coward - the Oracle was in the next room, and he had to protect her. Let them come.
They may have been big, they may have been huge but in the confines of this relatively small forge that was going to be a disadvantage. Dray remained crouched behind the workbench as he watched five sets of feet walk by.
Staying grouped together was their first mistake. If they had spread out, they would have spotted him, and been able to attack from both sides – but they hadn’t spread out, and for that, they would pay.
The three guards at the front had their swords drawn, ready for an attack, but the two at the back still had their swords sheathed; that was their second mistake – Dray knew they could not draw quickly enough to stop him.
After the fifth had passed, he silently moved to the side of the bench. This was his chance to get a real sword. He had to act fast, he had to catch them off-guard, speed was of paramount importance – he needed to get that weapon before the moment passed.
He rushed out of hiding, plunging the dagger deep into the rear guard’s back, forcing him to release his grip on his sword. Dray reached past and drew it for himself. Blood sprayed as the sword impaled the guard from back to front. The guar
d slid off the sword and hit the ground hard; Dray now had the pointed dagger in one hand and the guard’s sword in the other.
He stepped over the body, the next guard was still drawing his sword when Dray stabbed him twice in the chest; once with the dagger, once with the sword.
The third guard charged and received a flying dagger to his throat for his troubles; he dropped to the ground, and Dray walked over his fallen body too. There were two guards left, but there was only enough room for one of them to get close.
These guards are not well trained. He knew he would beat them, he knew they weren’t leaving this place alive; if he allowed that he would have every guard in the city hunting them down - he had to finish this.
Let them come, let them make a mistake. He had trained with some of the best soldiers in the world during his time at Candelier - this was just another drill to him, another exercise to teach the rookies.
He could see the fury in their eyes; those beacons of fire, those wraths of rage. He knew their anger would unbalance them, he knew that mistakes would come, and he knew that those mistakes were what would ultimately lead these foul creatures to their deaths.
The fourth guard swung at him. Dray blocked it easily allowing the sword to slide down his blade. The momentary imbalance was all the time Dray needed, he pushed the demon to the side and ended its life by ploughing his newly acquired sword straight through its ribcage. Dray withdrew the sword, and the grey-skinned fiend spun and fell to the ground; blood pooling beneath it’s skewered body.
There was only one guard left, its eyes didn’t shine as brightly as the others and Dray took that as a sign of fear.
“YOU ARE THE NEXT!” he shouted at the foul creature. It shouted something back in its guttural, demonic language and swung at Dray’s head, Dray ducked and stepped back. The swings are too wild, the openings too many. On some level, Dray almost felt sorry for the thing. This wasn’t a fair fight, and it didn’t stand a chance. You have to fight tight in a confined space.