The Blessed - Rahil

Rahil felt as if he had been asleep for only a few minutes when someone shook his shoulder.

“Hey,” he heard someone say. He looked at his shoulder and saw a muddied brown boot stepping on him. He was greeted by Ulric’s scarred face. His gray hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, his grey eyes icily looking down on him.

“Storm has passed,” he said. “Roukan wants to speak to you.”

And without another word, he left. Something about his tone made him think that he hated running small errands for Roukan.

Rahil wished he could’ve slept a little longer. He didn’t have to follow the stranger he just met. They could just leave, if he knew where to go. So even if he doesn’t want to, he’d have to play nice with the man with the weird smile.

He stifled a groan as he pushed himself up. When he stepped out of the hut, he was hit by brisk cold air and smell of wet earth. He took a lungful of the morning air. He scrunched his nose at the faint smell of decay. The sky was still dark. He couldn’t tell what time it is. All he knew was the storm has not passed.

There was a loud squelching noise when he stepped on the ground. Roukan who was hunched over a table looked at his direction and smiled.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. He gestured him to join them.

The look on his face made Rahil’s stomach turn.

They were looking over at an old, crumpled map, held in place by stones. Stained with water, blood, ashes, and dirt, this map has been through some tough journey. Some lands marked X, though he wasn’t sure if that area was dead end or it’s just too dangerous for them to go.

Last night, Roukan told them they were in the Dernvale. Rahil quickly scanned the map and spotted three villages in the forest. All of which are within close distance to their true target.

“You’re headed to Caeldig,” Roukan’s eyes widened, like a child making at awe.

He’s sharp, Rahil thought. He felt a tingling at the end of his fingers. He fought the urge to reach for his dagger.

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “It’s not up to me.”

“No?” Roukan’s eyes grew wide open. “I can tell she makes the call by the subtle looks she give you before she speaks.”

“You pique my curiosity, guardian of the Guardian,” Roukan sneered. “Who are you?”

Rahil kept his mouth shut. He crossed his arms and eyed his interrogator.

“Have you heard of the Ghost of Eardyn?” Roukan continued. “Some villages say a man with dark hair and dark eyes appears when there’s a conflict between tribes or kingdoms. He doesn’t fight, but he protects the innocents. A lot of people thought it was the Guardian. But this one bleeds.”

He smirked. “People have seen this man survive grave wounds and walk away the next day as if nothing happened.”

Rahil smiled back. “What an unfortunate man,” he said. “Cursed with immortality.”

“It’s only curse if he did nothing with his gift,” Roukan scoffed.

“Figures,” he said taking one step himself. “Only someone like you would think immortality is a blessing.”

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Roukan’s eyes grew dark. “I have never met a man blessed by Death. You may be the only one.”

Rahil’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. He knew he was being tested, but at that moment, the only thing he knew is that he was dangerous.

The tension was broken when a flash of gold locks blocked their view. Ylva gently pushed the two of them apart.

“The mystery of this man is not our mission, Roukan.” Her green eyes glared at him, and he raised his hands, backing down.

She then turned to Rahil. It was only then he realized how tall she was. Even standing at six foot tall, she still towered over him.

“Why are you going to Caeldig?” she asked.

“We have unfinished business there,” he said simply.

She tilted her head. “What business?” her eyes narrowed. “The city’s been closed off for a year now.”

He clenched his jaw. “Elswyth will restore the Heart of Dernvale.”

Everyone fell quiet, save for the crows flying overhead.

“Just the two of you?” Roukan raised an eyebrow. “You’re walking into a heavily guarded city. You’re serving the Guardian in a silver platter.”

Ylva shot him another warning look. Roukan sighed and took a few steps back.

“How are you sure that the Heart is there?” Ylva asked.

“We don’t know for sure.” He cleared his throat and scratched his stubbled chin. “She’s been dreaming about a city with white walls and then one day, something in there is calling her,” he said.

Ylva and Roukan stole a glance at each other. He knew other people wouldn’t believe it—not right away. ‘No matter,’ he thought. ‘It’s not that we need them to come with us.’

“Well,” Roukan ran his fingers through his dark locks. “The Guardian’s power is beyond our understanding.”

“Alright,” Ylva said nodding her head. “What is your plan? Sneak in the city and then check every tree and plant?”

“Maybe it’s not the Heart that’s calling her,” Roukan grinned. “Fate has brought us together for a reason. We are also headed for Caeldig.”

“We are?” Ylva raised an eyebrow.

Roukan ignored her. “Caeldig is known for its blacksmiths,” he said. “They’ve sent them to different camps, but the one they kept in the city is pretty interesting.”

“Here,” He threw a dagger on the table. It looked like an ordinary dagger, but as he looked closer, he saw a faint light emitting from the blade. It’s weak, but it’s imbued with the Light.

“You’ve heard of the Blessed?” Roukan asked. “People with special gifts from the gods?”

“Of course,” he whispered studying the dagger in awe. Most Blessed are gifted with strength, speed, wisdom.

“They were rare,” Roukan continued. “But just as the shadow and demon’s strength increased, so did the number of Blessed that were born.”

“I’m strong,” he said. Ulric rolled his eyes at this. “Stronger than most men. And I heal fast. Fenris is quick and silent. Cannagan is a talented healer. And this blacksmith can make weapons with the touch of the Light that can kill a shadow.”

“We don’t know if he’s doing this on purpose,” Ylva cut in. “But the Shadow army doesn’t know it. We’ve been gathering discarded weapons in Dernvale. But it’s not enough.”

“There is news around the continent,” Roukan’s voice was low and serious. “The Shadow is gathering an army of men to take down the Hearts of the Forest. They will use Caeldig’s blacksmiths to arm this legion. We must set him free before the worse happens.”

“Freeing Caeldig will put a stop to their plan,” Rahil agreed. “But I can’t risk Elswyth getting caught. She’s mortal. If she dies, Eardyn won’t stand a chance.”

“She won’t fight alone,” Roukan argued. “If we have more weapons like this, we can build an army too.”

“We?” he chuckled. “Elswyth and I will go to Caeldig,” Rahil said in a flat tone. “You’ve done us a great service. But we don’t want to overstay the welcome of your good company.”

“Don’t be so eager to leave us,” he said in a sweet voice, which made Rahil’s skin crawl. “I’ve been looking for a way to defeat the Shadow my whole life. I thought blacksmith was the answer, but the gods gave me the Guardian.”

“The gods gave you no—,” Rahil paused. The hair on his nape stood. He caught a familiar presence from behind. It was like standing before a forge. An alluring heat, yet underneath was a roaring flame that will devour you in a breath.

“Care to know what I think?” Elswyth’s voice was strangely calm, but her face was far from it.

She walked towards them and gazed at the map for a second before throwing the angry glances at the Rahil and Roukan. “The two of you are conspiring without the key to your whole plan.”

“Why should I when you seek for his approval first?” Roukan answered teasingly. “Thought I’d skip the red tape.”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “One of you does not believe I am ready, and the other wants send me like haunting dog!”

“Alright then, Guardian,” Roukan dared. “What are you going to do?”

His dark eyes piercing her, studying closely. He looked like a hunter eyeing his prey. To his surprise, Elswyth stood her ground. With her fist clenched, she spoke with as much strength as she could.

“I’m going to bring Ren back to Faeldic.”