Christopher stared at the lord facing him, his eyes clouded in confusion. “Keith? What are you doing here? Wait… didn’t you…” He stepped back hurriedly. His hand rested on the handle of his sword, worn on his side. His mind flashed through the conversation with Caitlin Demere.
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Keith sighed, holding his hands up, palms facing Chrisopher. “Wymond,” he said. “I know what the king told you. I’m here, in person, to inform you that it’s not true. I swear upon my title, my father, or the angel, whatever.” His old green eyes found Christopher’s, begging. “Please understand,” he whispered, “this is not my doing.”
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Christopher stared at him. “Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you have to say?” His hand tightened on the pommel of his sword. Air hissed quietly through his teeth as he blew out raggedly.
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“Christopher,” Keith said, despairingly. “I’ve been foul with you. Since childhood. Please forgive my flaws. I am here to protect you. I have information that will save you.” He lowered his hands and began striding purposely down the hall. Christopher, after a moment's hesitation, followed.
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Christopher replied, “What information? What do you mean?” He kept pace with Lord Galbian, though remaining several steps behind him, still suspicious of his intentions. Outside the walls, burning balls of tar hummed quietly through the air, smashing the outer houses of the city.
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Galbian glanced over his shoulder to respond. “I can’t show you here. You’ll have to come with me to the forest.” He weaved through the halls expertly, finding his way to the door that led outside towards the stables.
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“Do you think me a fool? I’m not going to go alone into the forest with someone whom I believed wanted me killed!” Christopher grabbed Keith’s shoulder and stopped walking. “Galbian what is your play? What are you doing?”
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Keith turned on his heel, gripping Christopher’s collar. His eyes burnt with anger. “You do not understand, Christopher, so be quiet! If I wanted to kill you I would have done so long ago!” He pushed himself back, releasing his grip. “I’m trying to protect you. I know you don’t understand, but neither do I, okay?” He was breathing hard now, staring intensely at Christopher.
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Christopher held his stare for a couple moments before holding his hands up. “Whatever.” He said, quietly, before pushing past Keith and opening the door at the end of the hall. He paused there, looking around. “Keith?” Christopher blinked into the fading sunlight, confused. “What’s going on?”
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The sky was dark, not to the lack of sunlight, but to the excess of smoke. Something was burning. A lot of somethings. Or something big. Christopher stepped out, trying to make out the source of the smoke. Keith followed him out. He gasped, shaking his head in horror.
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“It’s started. We need to get out of here. Now!” He took off running, yelling over his shoulder, “Follow me, Wymond, if you want to live!” Christopher, having not thought through his options, took off after him. As they ran through the courtyard, Christopher glanced over his shoulder periodically. He could see the flames burning higher now, the smoke covering the sky quicker. As he looked back to where he was running, he skid to a halt, slipping and landing on his backside before frantically rolling to the side. He looked up in fear as a small burning ball of tar came flying over the city walls and landed a couple paces away from him. The grass and straw littering the ground sparked into flame, spreading quickly. Thuds around him and crashes of glass told Christopher that other balls had been launched and had struck their marks. Christopher felt crippled as he watched the flames grow, sitting on the ground.
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He barely responded to the hands pulling him to his feet and his legs pushing onwards. My city is burning. I need to help. He looked up, coming back to focus. “No.” He said, loudly. “No, Keith, I must go back and help.” Keith stopped, turning around and grabbing Christopher’s hand before continuing to run. He said nothing as he pulled him along towards the stables. Christopher fought, though weakly, to pull away.
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As they reached the stables, they slowed down. Fire was raging behind the doors, and the fearful whinnying of the horses met his ears. “Quick,” Keith ordered, “get your horse and get out. We’ve no time to save anything else.” His face, though haunted, wore a weary expression of sheer determination.
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Christopher hesitated. “We have to free the other horses.” He approached the doors, covering his nose and mouth with his hand, and opened them. Inside, the wooden beams shone with flame and the hay surrounding the floor was smoking. Christopher danced around the flames, working his way to the doors that encaged the animals. He released the lock, and swung the door open. Each horse ran for the freedom of fresh air as he encouraged them out. He noticed Keith doing the same and yelled over the roar, “Galbian! I’m going to get Betholomew! Save these ones!” He pointed and ran through the burning hall towards his personal enclosure. He ducked as flaming ash fell from the beams above his head. Growing frantic, he stood back up, running the last few feet. Christopher tugged the locks off, opening the door and entering the room. The smoke was filling the stables quickly, making his eyes sting and squint closed. He searched the room quickly, his eyes landing on a heap in the corner of the room. “Bart?” He whispered, pausing amongst the chaos. He knelt down next to his horse, the horse his father raised with him, and laid his head down on its neck. “No,” he said, putting his fingers on his horse's snout. “No!” Christopher sobbed into the dirty white fur, clenching the mane in his hands. He struck his hand out, hitting the rough wood of the wall. The wood cracked and splintered.
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Behind him footsteps thundered in, forcing their way through the stables. Hands grabbed Christopher, pulling the anguished lord out of the suffocating smoke. Christopher numbly stared at the raging fires spreading throughout his city. He was led by the elbow to a brown horse. He mounted it, subdued, and followed his new small army out the back gate of the city, taking off into the forest on unmarked trails.196Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN66QDDI9g4
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The rain pattered gently onto the leaves. Dark clouds drifted heavily through the sky, filled with the suspended ash from the charred town. Throughout the next days the soldiers made repetitive trips in small groups back to the fortress. They watched the fires until each bit of burnable material was reduced to ash and the rain forced the surviving flames to dissipate.
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Christopher remained subdued throughout the process of watching the buildings fall apart. His people had been scattered into the forests, or, if they weren't lucky enough to escape the town hall, a part of the remaining soot on the ground. Altogether, he had a number of around 85 living knights under his command, a handful of servants, and the few unharmed horses that they had managed to save. They had started with a number of 48 mounts, but a little less than half of them had died from their extended time breathing in the smoke.
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There had been little time to bury the remains of horses and men, so they lay a hill away in a pile of matted fur and muddied flesh. Christopher wasn’t worried that they’d get eaten before their time of burial, the stench alone was enough to keep even the most curious of the wild animals away. The activity in the forest surely spooked some of the animals around, and there had been laughable instances when a deer or some other wildlife had approached the camp and got tangled in the tunics or clattered around the metal plates hung outside tents.
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The orchestrators of the attack were never found, whoever it was had left in a hurry after setting the castle ablaze. Whoever had made the attack had disappeared quite fast and quite well. For several hours parties searched but found no proof anyone had been around. After a day of searching, they gave up and returned to their makeshift camp.
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While many men decided to spend their nights at the fire, others hung their clothes on trees while they bathed in the rivers. They soon learned that if they wished to come back to camp without being stark naked, they needed to fasten the clothing more securely or suffer through wet clothes. The echoes in the night often frightened the youngest soldiers. The screams, whether of anger or fear, didn’t unnerve everyone for long, as they quickly became a part of life in the camp.
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Christopher sat outside his camp on one of such nights, sharpening his sword. His men recognized when their lord was deep in thoughts and often quieted to respect his brooding, tonight was no different. Christopher slid his whet stone smoothly over the blade, refining the edge to a razor. He sighed, setting the stone down and picking up his cloth. Gently and methodically he wiped it across the blade, cleaning it of any excess water and metals.
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A stick broke to his left. Christopher looked up, his eyes seeing nothing with empty space. He blinked, focusing on the trees. He knew, instinctively, that he was to take a hike, but stayed put. Crìsdean Wymond. The whispered name flowed from the trees, surrounding Christopher with a feeling of intense company. The trees seemed to beckon him, drawing him slowly in. They whispered gently as he stood and stepped into the undergrowth, walking deeper. He paused, glancing around after realizing he was out of sight from the camp. Christopher hesitated before calling out, softly, “Hello?” He listened, but heard no answer. Getting nervous, he turned in a circle. “I know you hear me, so why do you hide?” His voice trembled and his surroundings seemed to get darker. Crìsdean Wymond, the voice whispered in his ear, louder now. Look up, son. Christopher threw his head back, staring upwards into the canopy. He could see none of the sky, only the dark intertwined branches and growth.
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The leaves and branches, in a sudden movement, pulled towards their trees, revealing a singular star. They withdrew to lighten the clearing in which he stood. The star blinked as if in recognition of the opening. A soft white light traveled quickly down into the forest floor, revealing a face, to begin with, but then growing into wings attached to arms and a torso. The light spread into legs and the fold of pristine clothing. Features began to etch themselves into the body as the wings unfolded to a great span. Everything seemed to glow around him and trembled in anticipation of the great angel's words. Around the clearing an invisible wall of light rose from the ground and made a protected orb around the two men.
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Christopher gaped, struck silent by the power of the angel before him. His hands shook, whether in fear or amazement, he didn’t know. He gasped in wonder as the familiar eyes opened and bore into his. Though unrecognized by Christopher, his eyes flashed brighter and his blood pulsed under his skin. His body reacted in delight as he gazed at the angel who had once visited him before. He knew he would be safe within the presence of this divine beast.
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The transformation completed as the last detail of the angel’s wings were engraved with striking detail. He sighed, folding his wings in gently as he came into contact with the ground. “Crìsdean,” the voice of the angel rang in Christopher's ears, though his lips made no move. “My son listen to my instruction and you will bide well. You and your knights must leave this place in quick manner. Your destiny remains elsewhere. Do not tread in the past, only in the future. You can not change what has happened, only what has yet to occur.” His eyes softened in intensity and his form seemed to shrink. “My boy, oh, my Crìsdean. How little you comprehend.” The angel paced slowly across the clearing and back. He spoke, his voice gentle and deep yet whole and powerful. “I created you. I breathed life in you. I teach and counsel you. I instruct you but allow you freedom in choice. Have faith, my child. I am with you always. I love you deeply.”
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Christopher was energized and soothed by a wave of intense love that swelled around and through him. He felt safe and protected. Like he belonged. The feeling warmed him and the two stood together for a long moment. “My lord Raziek,” Christopher said eventually. “What do I do? Tell me where to go and I will go. Tell me what to do and I will do as you instruct.”
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“Leave this forest. Nothing remains for you. Collect your brigades from around the city walls as you venture out. An upwards count of 600 soldiers awaits you. From there you are on your own. I will be with you, my son, have faith and follow the star.” Raziek’s wings thrust out to his sides, their great beauty glimmering in the starlight. He held his arms out with his wings, kneeling on one knee. “Crìsdean of the Wymond blood, son of my own blood, I, Raziek, Lord of Razium, proclaim in this covenant that I will forever stand by your side and guide you. When the time comes I will stand with you and level all who oppose my kingdom.” A surge of power burst from the angel and sealed his promise as it swept through and bound the two together.
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Christopher knelt and bowed his head. “I will trust you, my lord.” He paused, perhaps letting the power sink into him. “May I ask a question, Lord Raziek?”
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Raziek nodded, standing back to his human-sized height. “Of course.”
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Christopher looked up from his position on the ground. “My lord, why do you call me Crìsdean? Is my name not Christopher?”
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“Crìsdean, I call you by your angelic name. Christopher has no more meaning than to be a worldly name. Your angelic name is known only to those who believe and trust in me. Trust none who call you otherwise. Those who call you by your holy name have been sent by me to protect and feed you. Give them your trust and do not give in to the temptation of riches, I will provide all you need.” The angel walked forward, pulling Christopher into a strong embrace. Raziek held him there, pulsing gifts of wisdom, strength, courage, and honesty into him.
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The time they stood there together lasted longer than Christopher knew, but shorter than he longed for. The angelic body of Raziek slowly faded away and the trees closed the opening. As the last of the leafy wall came into place, a last whisper found Christopher’s ears, “I am with you always. Have faith.”
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