Clammy shivers twinged Eadwald’s body as perspirations cascaded slowly down his wiry form beneath the thick winter garments and snow white plates of perfectly symmetrical angular curves. His arms stretched forward as his hands, fingers wrapped tightly around the sturdy oaken handle of the practice sword, still shaking from the tremors beget from the forceful strikes aimed at him by Aelfsigior’s long birch spear, most blocked by him thanks to his natural reflexes instilled by Ulrich.
His legs stretched, his feet sunken into the slowly freezing slush lit by the multifarious shades of early evening as the cerulean skies darkened slowly. With his gaze focused on the towering, stalwart form before him somewhat leaning forward, spear held out waiting for Eadwald to make the first move while his face lacked in emotions, perfectly calm making it overall hard to decipher what the old aevhe’s next move may be.
The golden pearls embedded into the ivory pond bounced left and right, up and down as Eadwald took a better look, searching for a weak point in Aelfsigior’s stance as he began to make careful, but somewhat quick steps circling around him standing almost to the center of the training ground whilst the others surveyed from beyond the low railing including Azugh who came out from his trance from two days ago.
Whilst the public received the news about the death of the nekromancer who infiltrated the city and the culprit behind the attack on the market, they believed Eadwald was the one who dealt the killing blow and not Azugh, which left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. Especially as he still believed there were more than one, though he could not tell how or why this thought born and lingered in his mind other than it must have been planted by either the Almodo or one of the Eight.
Even the others, the authorities of Vhoragos believed that Uchitemar did not act alone as he lacked the nekrotic stain of controlling multiple undead as they were well aware that all those kidnapped folks shared the same accursed fate. And they knew not out of simply divine signaling, but from how careless was his suspected partner, Da Yun. But because they lacked enough evidence to arrest him for his crimes, besides being admired by the city’s folk for contributing a sizeable part of his earnings to constant renovation, upkeeping of Vhoragos.
Amidst these thoughts, Eadwald readied his arms to parry the incoming thrust and let out an astounded yelp when the birch weapon elegantly altered its trajectory from the center of his chest covered by the breastplate to the gap on his sides, aiming for his ribs barely protected. Pain suddenly surged through his form and he flew to the sides in the slush, the crowd gasping in surprise at his defeat.
“Third time you lost your focus. I guess we’re done for today.” Aelfsigior walked up to him with his practice weapon held downwards, then plunged it effortlessly into the ground before holding out his hand pulling Eadwald up. “I can still go.” He refuted with his face still grimacing from the pain. “I have no doubt about that, but only if you can clear your head.”
As the crowd dispersed slowly, Azugh and Gna made their way around while Hevaeck and Priernuss bid farewell as they planned to visit the market for supplies before the hour of midnight. And to visit the kiosk selling the famed spicy beverage of the far-south both greatly like.
“Thanks.” Azugh handed him the jug filled with a bitter tasting water that eased the pain, then headed into the ring with Gna where they stood face to face five steps away from each other, the cold wind brushing their greyish, ghastly epidermis with their thick bones protruding even though the heavy muscle masses.
“So what is a niaxhe?” When the father and son began their bout with loud bangs reverberating through the mostly silent training yard, Eadwald asked as the word lingered in his mind, somewhat predicting what the answer may be, but still he could not hold back his curiosity.
Aelfsigior folded his arms and kneaded his chin beard hanging and dangling as the autumnal wind swept through it. “Didn’t Ulrich or Mirdbruil taught you about it?” He asked furrowing his brows then sighed when the Eadwald shook his head. “About them, not really.”
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“Where should I begin.” Aelfsigior murmured under his chiseled, delicate aevhen nose. “As you might have guessed they are a fallen kin of ours, living in the Basin.” He stopped as a loud bang reverberated through as Azugh landed a hit on his father left cheek hardened by maghia. “Are they like the… teneavhei?”
Aelfsigior nodded as he watched Gna retaliate with a hit to Azugh’s packed abdomen, sending him sliding across the muddy and melting snow covered field. “To the point that their forefathers and mothers came from the House of Dusk, though unlike what you saw on Priernuss’ painting, they had white and silvery scales as they descended from the first mate of the Nightscale, quite the magnificent dragon she is.” For a moment his attention turned from the bout before him, reminiscing of the time he visited the far eastern shores of Vhalleryon and graced upon the hallowed grounds of an eastern temple on one of the jagged plateaus hewn by the raging waters below. The cyclopean sculpture still filled him with awe, casting its silvery and white tinted shadows onto his youthful form wearing the traditional garments of the eastern part of the plane.
“And unlike our darker kindred, they chose to fight on the side of the Amber Lord and our Magnificent Mother, against their progenitor and his maddened master.” He added eliciting a slight surprised gaze from Eadwald who watched as his friend was grabbed by his father flailing as he was thrown across the yard like a sack of potatoes.
“Good.” Aelfsigior muttered in a low voice as he watched Azugh get onto his feet while Gna rushed towards him, preparing to strike in a moment’s notice. “Though the event that led to their exile happened not long after the war came to an end, and before the Nightscale settled in the heart of Dhaugruz. I lack in proper knowledge about the events, but all I know that a select group of niuvhei revolted against the ruling family of the archipelago, they failed spectacularly as far as I heard and whilst their leader and his family was executed before the masses, many of theirs escaped to the north. Their name came to be during the execution, and if I am correct, it pertains to their revolt, their agenda being as fragile as the snow on the archipelago.”
Eadwald turned at him with his brow raised in question. “Oh, the eastern colony has a pretty warm climate, snow rarely falls there if at all even during the winter seasons.” Aelfsigior slowly rose as the bout came to an end between the two after Azugh evaded the fist headed straight for his head, and pummeled his fist into his father’s abdomen, sending him a few meters away, gasping for air.
He slowly approached him clapping then held the flask of healing water out to Gna who took it with a faint smile on his face before spitting a bit of his blood into the mud. “They grow up fast.” He said after chugging down the water and grimaced at its taste followed by a relief filled sigh as the pain eased into nothingness. “They certainly do.” Aelfsigior said as the two watched Eadwald and Azugh bumped their elbows as the former congratulated to his friend.
“Though an earnest victory would have been better.” Aelfsigior added while gazing over Gna when he noticed one of the attendants assigned to them exiting the barracks with a sack of bakeries which tantalizing scent reached their noses. Before they could celebrate this minor victory, a cold shiver tinged Aelfsigior’s body and his twitching long ears picked up on the distant sound of footsteps with one side avidly chasing with a vacuous pace trailed by a faint putrescent odor, the other hurried, running away laden with panic and fear, slowly decreasing in number.
“Get your weapons!” He turned to the others and yelled as the distant screams several streets away reached his sharpened, aevhen ears whilst the others still remained unaware of the brewing distress within the city. Though they did not question his words noticing the stern look on his face and he himself running towards the northern barracks where they left their gears.
Saugh himself stepped out with a few of his custodiir already clad in their snow white armor. “What happened?” Eadwald halted and asked while the others continued. “Dozens of undead poured forth the sewers, their numbers are growing.” Saugh answered hastily as he continued marching and yelling for the resting troops in the barracks to awake. His voice spiced with shapeless mana boomed through the square. Lights lit up in the windows as the custodians and legionaries stirred in their confines, then rushed to the armory.
“Eadwald. Hurry!” Aelfsigior yelled at him whilst Eadwald stared past the walls, the worry he felt when they arrived resurfaced as he turned back and rushed into the barracks as distorted shrieking of the undead mingled with the helpless screams of the people.