Chapter 17
Gunther squinted as bright sunlight flooded his vision. Brown shielded his eyes with an arm, gazing at the monolithic statues they rode slowly passed. Raphael smirked at the crumbled statue to their left.
Before them was a great sandstone altar. Suddenly, a sound of many voices, ranging in depth, spoke as one in a foreign tongue, battering the ears of the travelers in the cavernous hall.
“What is thy business here?” The question roared in their minds in Gunther and Brown’s language, but spoken in another. Brown doubled over Brigand’s saddle, clutching his ears. Gunther screamed aloud once before biting through his lip and whimpering.
Raphael gazed toward the circular aperture above them, saying in the same strange language, “We come to defeat the creatures that roam this land.”
“The boy carries the sword. Why dost he not speak?”
“He is under my guidance, you speak to me!”
Gunther opened an eye and looked over at his friend. Raphael threw him a sidelong glance. The echoing sound began again. The man trotted over on Argo, covering the squire’s ears.
“Use thy sword’s light to find thy next foes.”
Brown slowly uncovered his ringing ears.
“Well, a lot of good that bullocks does us!” He sobbed pitifully. “Don’t you fellows have bleeding ears and split heads?”
Raphael removed his hands from Gunther’s ears.
“We have already defeated one of the beasts,” he stated, gazing toward the opening before the altar. He drew the boy’s sword, raising it to the sunlight. Three beams shot out, pointing behind them, before them, and to their left. “Brown, ride to the north. Gunther, go to the south. I’ll take the west.”
He looked at the others, eyes lingering upon the teen. “We each take the beasts there and meet back here. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” The two nodded solemnly and rode down the staircases toward the directions. Gunther reined in Zephyr, gazing to the forested and lake covered east. Why not there? he wondered. Why not point to the east? And why must I go alone?
A hand squeezed his shoulder gently. Softly, in a way Gunther had never been spoken to before, the warrior whispered, “You will succeed, Gunther. Fear not what you fight soon. You have my sword. I ride with you.”
With that, the boy watched the figure gallop away.
Chapter 18
Brown yelled as he fell from the Roc like creature into the water below. He had already defeated that salamander and that great horse with spear legs, and now he was wet.
The man sighed as he watched the curious black tentacles fly away as he rode back toward the Temple. The roan shuddered, whinnying in greeting toward the midnight equine they came upon.
Raphael looked up at him, seated with his back against a small, moss covered stone shrine.
“Ho there, sir!” called the red beard. The dark haired one narrowed his stormy eyes. Brown grinned nervously, querying; “You do not trust me?”
“What is your interest in the sword?”
“My interest? No! Utter nonsense, my good man!”
The man stood from his seat on the stone, walking toward his mount.
Brown narrowed his eyes. “Sir Raphael, I believe you allowed one of those dreadful monsters to escape.”
“Have I?” Raphael halted. Brown smirked, taking a scroll from his pocket.
“‘Thy next foe is…’” He gazed at the man’s back. “‘The snake that hides in the sand, its eyes trained upon thee.’” He smirked.
“I believe that to mean the western lair. Lord Jeffrey stated that I defeat it, but since you chose the westward path for yourself, I dare not impose.”
Raphael leapt into his saddle silently, galloping toward the west. If Brown is not interested in the sword… No, that is insane. It’s not even possible…is it?
As the warrior made his way westward, the squire lurched back toward the great monolith, half asleep and covered from hair to ankle in black beast blood.
Brown looked up as hoof beats sounded upon the steps. “Gunther!” He waved. The boy looked about the room.
“Where is Raphael?” Fear marred his features as he realized his friend was not present. Any number of those beasts would be…easy to defeat… At least, they should be for Raphael… Oh, where is he?
“Sir Brown,” gasped Gunther, turning to the man and trembling uncontrollably. The redheaded knight gaped. “Sir Brown, please, have you seen him?”
The man sighed, gazing into the fear filled eyes.
“Shall we search for him?”
Mounting, the two raced into the western cliffs. Brown led the way into the cave, passed another of the stone shrines.
Coming around a bend in the passage, the two riders came to an open cavern filled with dust and sunlight. The ground shook as the great serpent flew past them. It pushed the sand aside, red eyes wide and searching.
Fur lined its back as it did the other beasts, carrying two fins behind its head and lower down its back. The rest of its body was hard stone.
Gunther spurred Zephyr forward suddenly. With a sharp cry, the horse leapt from the small outcropping onto the sand. Drawing the sword from his belt, Gunther flew after the beast.
Spurring the sweat soaked animal up beside the snake; he made a passing stab that barely cut the surface. The red eyes tracked the boy, the rock head crashing into Zephyr’s legs.
Gunther gagged as the second dorsal rock fin slammed into him, sending him careening into the sand. Blood seeped down the young squire’s side.
The thirteen-year-old was suddenly jerked from the ground onto the black blur that was Argo. Brown stared as he caught a glimpse of the man spurring the horse as the serpent gave chase.
Gunther yelled as the man threw him onto the rocks near one of the three pillars he and Brown had seen from the cave entrance. The man turned in the saddle, firing arrow after arrow at the colossus to gain its attention.
Raphael turned, kicking Argo’s flank and charging toward the snake’s back. The creature turned, leaping with a horrendous shriek into the air above the warrior.
A sickening crack sounded as the snake moved away to charge again. The dust settled slowly. The boy stared numbly, his heart failing.
“R…Raphael…” He shook, staggering out toward the dark haired man a few steps before falling to his knees.
The man was still, all too still.
Sand and blood stained his pale face. How long had he been fighting? The boy couldn’t tell if the man was breathing, if anything was broken, if he was even still alive.
Please, no… Not you… Not you, too… He felt the ground begin to shake as the beast came toward them again. Gunther gripped the sword in his white knuckled fist.
Brown yelled as the teen leapt over the head, the blade stabbing into it and dragging to the tail, the beast cut neatly in two. For a giant pile of rock and fuzz…that is quite the orgasm of blood.
Again, the tentacles rose from the corpse. Gunther turned. His eyes widened, mouth opening in a croak of a scream as the tentacles stabbed through his chest into the earth.
The sword fell from his limp fingers. Gunther moaned, eyes closing as he collapsed. The last thing the boy saw was a shadowed light and heard a soft voice calling to him in Raphael’s language.
Gunther called out weakly to the voice as he lost consciousness, something that could have been a mix of the three words brother, mother, and father.
Chapter 19
Warmth and shade dappled the boy’s face. The squire opened his eyes slowly to find himself staring at the Temple ceiling above.
Doves flew out of the opening behind the altar, now dark with the night. The warmth had not been from sunlight as he had expected, but from a cheery fire. A gust of warm exhaled breath and a friendly nuzzle atop his aching head alerted him to the white horse’s presence.
“Awake now, are you?” asked the knight, looking over at him. Gunther ignored the man entirely, a wrenching, guttural sob escaping his lips as he saw Raphael.
Bandages replaced the man’s headband across his dark hair and over his right shoulder and chest. Both arms were bandaged, his sword arm in a splint by his side.
Numerous small injuries caught Gunther’s eye with their obscurities as he teetered over to the altar where the man lay. Placing his own bandaged head upon his friend’s stomach, the boy allowed salty rain to fall from the twin sets of sky that were his eyes.
Brown sighed quietly as the sobs crescendo as pleas for the warrior to awaken. “Never lost someone before, have you, lad?”
Gunther halted his pleas. A trembling hand clenched into a fist upon the stone. Shining zircon narrowed and glared at the red beard wrathfully.
Ripping off jerkin and tunic, the thirteen-year-old revealed a scarred body that made the man nearly wretch. How had he not seen these before? Crisscrossing the frail form were burn scars, scourge marks and cutting slashes accompanied with surgeon’s masterpieces.
A sharp snap and a ring, a small cross was thrown at Brown’s feet.
“My brother’s. Before him, my mother and before her my father. Dead are all of them, before my very eyes. Think you I have not seen death?”
Gunther turned back to his guardian, shuddering. I am truly alone. Bowing his head, he let out a scream of rage, fist beating the stone bloody.
“Why did you save me, damn you!” Gunther searched the still face for answers unspoken and prayed.
You cannot die… You mustn’t die! I need you! Swift drops fell from his cheeks. He leaned closer, his face nuzzling, burying itself in the strong, bandaged chest. You’ll open your eyes. You’ll open your eyes, and smile at me, and you’ll say what you said in the room again and I won’t be alone anymore!
Slowly, over a span of what seemed like hours, the teen’s tears ceased to flow, his pleas to be formed into cognitive space as thoughts. Gunther closed his eyes and dreamed of what had passed between them so recently, so clearly.
Raphael closed the door to their room, gazing at him intently with his strong eyes glowing as howlite in the moonshine that came through a c***k in their window.
“I will show you this only if you swear you shall not speak of it to a single soul.”
Gunther watched him as he sat beside him on the bed, the quilt pushed back, the man wearing naught but his shorts. The boy bowed his head, fearful of another slap as payment for his oath. He himself was clad only in a scant pair of underwear and his brown jerkin; his disgusting, unclean body laid bare before his guardian.
“You’re not a leper. Enough of your idiotic words about yourself.” Gunther gasped as the man lifted his chin with a hand. Iridescent gossamer feathers brushed gently against his body, shafts of light reflected in their prism like strands. “Now, tell me, do you swear not to speak of this?”
The soft gray eyes looked through the cerulean windows and caressed the youth’s soul. Gunther swallowed, feeling faint.
“I—I swear.”
“Good boy.” Strong arms embraced him. “Good lad.” Gunther shuddered, head spinning as he fell against the dark haired man. Peace swelled through his every pore. Raphael smiled at him, a genuine smile.
“And this is so you’ll remember it.”
Gunther blinked, too blissful for word or thought. It didn’t matter anymore to whom or what his first kiss had been given to—it simply mattered he’d had one. It was a gentle, chaste kiss.
What came after pushed the young squire over the brink into an abyss of pleasure too beautiful for words. Raphael held him away at arm’s length, his eyes smiling, his voice warm as he pressed the boy down onto the soft bed and covered him with the quilt, his arms, a wing.
“I love you.”
Chapter 20
Gunther awoke the next morning sore and still. Dry blood crusted his knuckles and salt stained his tongue and cheeks. Vaguely, he remembered this was the first time in what seemed forever that he had cried enough to taste.
The boy raised himself on an elbow. Sunlight upon his back cast his shadow halfway down the hall. The roan was gone, as was the sword and the red beard.
Gunther looked at Raphael. The pale chest rose in slow, shuddering breaths. Standing, the squire took his jerkin in hand and drew it over the man. Folding his tunic, he lifted the chestnut head gently and placed it down again.
“It’s not down, but ’tis all I have for you at the moment…” Gunther sighed, eyes half-lidded. Then his gaze hardened and he shoulder Raphael’s bow and quiver.
Thankfully, Brown had not rendered this unusable. Zephyr looked at the teen expectantly. He sighed, giving her an affectionate pat. Not this time, faithful one.
Mounting Raphael’s black steed, the teen gave Argo a double-heeled kick. The horse reared, charging down the stone stairs and into the grassy plains. I’m going to avenge you… Brown, pray to God you’ve hidden well, for not even He can save you now!
Brown sighed, relaxed and secure. He had sold off his nag of a roan to a traveler, gone far from the Temple—so far those two would never track him down.
When his lord had ordered him to steal that dark haired warrior’s sword, he had agreed to it forthwith. Who dared argue with their lord?
I never dared imagine my luck! Sir Raphael incapacitated—probably dead by now—that horrible would-be squire of a boy of his so far gone from sanity, the sword in my grasp and all in one day!
Now all I needs must do is present this to my lord. He smiled, eyes closing. What a wonderful day…
The man’s eyes flew open as his door was blown apart, a barb piercing the wooden headboard only an inch above his wild hair.
Zircon flames and windblown hair of rich brown came into his sight as the half bare boy strode from the swirling moats of golden dust. Gunther leveled another shaft upon the longbow, string pulled taut to his ear, aim fixed between the knight’s wide eyes.
Brown trembled. His fear emanated from the sight of the thirteen-year-old’s eyes. His eyes were acutely sharp, a darker shade, lit by the fires of hell itself. The voice that came from the blood stained, parched lips was the primal sound of a demon.
“Stand.” The man obeyed. “Walk out. Now. Do it.” Again, the red beard was forced to obey. Gunther followed close behind the man, arrow point digging between his shoulder blades.
He had ridden without stop, without heeding his body’s need for food or drink, or Argo’s bleeding nostrils or trembling legs. He had needed no assistance.
So great was his need for revenge, he had found the redheaded knight upon instinct alone.
“Now, Gunther, see here—” Brown was cut off by a jab from the arrowhead.
“Silence, traitor.”
Gunther spun him about. The arrow pressed solidly, a warning, against his breast. “The beasts, how many more?”
“No more, just those we killed.”
The next questions were snarls. “Where? Why?”
“The sword is in my room. I shall not answer the other.”
A sharp pain arose in the knight’s arm as the shaft sank in. Gunther placed another to the yew wood deftly. “Next, your head.” It was leveled. “Why?”
“My lord wished to have the sword. He claimed its true ownership. Tell me, lad, do you know with whom you ride?”
Brown took a breath and said quickly, “Lord Jeffrey and Sir Leonard have a warrant for his arrest. It appears your Lord Raphael is a wanted man—a young prince, I might add, and a fugitive from his own country. It tarnishes Lord Jeffrey’s name that the man is a distant relative of his. He murdered someone, you know.”
Gunther snorted. Raphael, murder? Just delaying the inevitable. “I heard she was a woman of fair face and with raven hair and eyes as yours. Her name? Maria.”
The boy’s blood froze, eyes wide. M-Mother…? “And not just here did he stop, no, oh, no. Her husband and eldest son as well. A babe was found alive, though, before that ash pile of a home. This was naught but eleven years ago.”
The teen gaped at the knight. Raphael? No, surely not his Raphael! The eyes were shadowed as he gazed at the ground through blurred eyes.
It’s not Raphael. It’s a lie. He gripped the arrow tightly in his fingers, cutting them to the quick on the string. He said he loved me…
“It’s lies. All lies!” Brown sank to the ground, the barb piercing his skull.
Chapter 21
Gunther rode back to the Temple slowly. The realization that he had taken a life, an actual human life, as well as the thoughts that dwelled upon Brown’s final story numbed him to the core.
Argo’s hooves clopped loudly against the stone steps as they walked into the structure, Gunther feeling the sword and bow weigh heavily upon him.
Zephyr nickered softly as the boy passed her. The squire looked to his friend.
A soft chuckle rose from the dark haired man, his soft howlite eyes half closed. The splint about his sword arm was gone, the arm moving as easily as ever.
“Gunther, where did you take my horse, to breed?” he asked quietly, chest heaving as he struggled to push himself to a sit.
The teen’s eyes widened as he saw the warrior stand on unsteady legs, a rueful cringe showing his pain. “What do you gock at so?”
Raphael took a step, toppling forward. Gunther surged forward, taking the force of the fall as the two hit the floor. The boy groaned, blinking as he felt the man tug on his ear playfully.
“I would be happier to talk if we weren’t in such a compromising position.” Raphael smirked at his words, resting his forehead lightly as he could against Gunther’s.
“Why not enjoy it?” He stopped, catching the eyes look down. “Gunther, what ails you?” A soft hand pressed against the dampening cheek.
“Brown is dead. He told me… Raphael, it’s a lie, isn’t it?” He looked at his guardian. “My… The village, the village of Archos…my family… He said…”
Gunther pushed Raphael to the stone floor before the altar, eyes wet and pleading, nails digging into the man’s shoulders as he shouted, “He said you destroyed them!” The dark haired man looked up at him, sadly, calmly.
“You and I were both there, that much is truth of that horrible night. It was not my doing that my father ordered us out of our homeland of Nux. My uncle, Erebus, was the one who sought out your family, because of your mother.
“She was a woman of Nux who had married a prince. A traitor, Erebus called her. Your father and brother defended her, but…”
He looked away from the youth, shaking. “You must hate me now, it is only right. I could only save you, protecting you from afar all these years lest he find you.” Gunther gasped as tears slipped from the man’s eyes.
His hands and arms slid about the dark haired one’s neck, embracing him tightly.
“You’re my guardian… I…” He swallowed. His brother, his father, his mother Maria, all of them became Raphael as he looked up and placed a chaste kiss upon his friend’s cheek. “I think I love you.”
Raphael smirked.
“You think?” With sudden, surprising strength, he pushed the teen against the altar, pressing against him. “You think or you know?” The man pressed against the boy’s forehead.
The horses stared at the pair, rolling their eyes. Humans. Gunther watched intently as Raphael pulled away.
“What?” the man questioned of the boy’s confused look. “Don’t parents kiss their children here?”
“You’re my guardian! And…I don’t remember, really. Raphael, um, Brown, before he…before I…” Gunther swallowed. “He said you and Lord Jeffrey were related. Distantly.”
Raphael narrowed his eyes, gazing at the stone above the boy’s head as if he could bore holes into it. Erebus…!
“Yes, we are. If my suspicions are correct, I know who he is.” Gunther found himself in a gentle hug. “Remember, Gunther,” Raphael whispered, kissing the boy on the cheek lightly, “guardians can show their children affection just as well as any others.”
Chapter 22
“Sometimes…” Raphael looked at him. Gunther glanced over at him from the white mare as they rode through the forest toward the road. It had been a good three days of riding, but they had made it back to Lord Jeffrey’s territory. “Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can remember them. What they sounded like, what my mother looked like… And I can remember you, too.”
The man nodded slowly, facing forward upon his own mount.
“Don’t think too hard. You’ll hurt your head.” Glancing at his charge again, a wide grin spread across his face and a raucous laugh resonated through the forest.
Gunther’s indignant look disappeared slowly. Starting as a chuckle, the laughter grew. I’ve never heard him laugh this much before. Raphael shook his head, another peal escaping him. I like this feeling.
The two wove through the trees toward the dark brown streak of the Royal road. The horses alighted to the higher ground, walking close to one another. Gunther flushed as the dark haired one placed an arm about his shoulders.
Once we defeat Erebus… Raphael leaned over to his companion, brushing a cobweb complete with spider from the overgrown bangs. The boy shuddered. I’ll see you laugh more.
Gunther narrowed his eyes as the spires bearing Jeffrey’s red banner came into view through the trees. No longer were the streets thronged with people. Door and window were bolted to the riders.
Not even an animal lowed.
“Where is everyone?” Gunther whispered, a hand going to his side. Raphael cannot fight; he’s still injured. He shouldn’t even be riding… Clasping the obsidian hilt with practiced ease, he drew the long blade.
Soft crackling sounds reached his ears. It snapped as if the popping of fatty meat in a pan. The squire’s eyes widened. I know that sound!
“Raphael, run!” The command came as vats of tar began to rain down about them, followed nearly instantaneously by fire-arrows. The wide-eyed animals shrieked, racing for their lives toward the castle.
If the two would change course, another flaming barricade was dropped. The warrior nocked an arrow. His storm gray eyes searched and found their targets, as did his shafts. It’s too easy. He shot another man down as he wheeled Argo about to follow Zephyr as Gunther jockeyed the horse toward the gate. It’s almost as if…
He dragged the bit against Argo’s jaw, his black horse rearing sharply.
“Gunther, stop!” The boy looked back at him over his shoulder as Raphael galloped after him. “It’s a trap!” Argo reared, crying as the door to the hall closed before them and the door to the world behind sealed them in the Inner Courtyard.
Inside the stronghold, the boy shook with the cold as he walked down the hall. His sword glowed a faint midnight blue in his hand.
“Lord Jeffrey!” he called as he entered the meeting room. Taking a heavy breath, he shouted, “Murderer! Betrayer! Fight me, Erebus!”
“Indeed, I am Erebus.” The black-eyed man strode into view from behind his massive chair. His hair was now dark as night to match his eyes. “You are not my nephew, yet you wield his sword. Why?” He smiled a sadistic smile. “Did Brown succeed in his mission?”
“I come for my revenge.” Gunther snarled. Better for the false ruler to think his companion dead and let him alone. “I am the son of Maria. I come to avenge my village!”
The torrent of rage that had been building finally culminated in the red mist that shrouded the boy’s eyes as he charged toward the man.
Erebus grinned widely. This should be interesting.
Raphael glared at the downed men around him. Thirty! Thirty men fallen and this damned door still won’t open! Frustration mounting, he beat a fist upon the wood.
The door swung open silently. The man glared at it once before walking Argo inside.
The clang of metal upon metal sang around the chamber. Gunther shuddered; sidestepping another blow as the man followed him doggedly.
The squire staggered, panting, sides heaving as blood pooled visibly against his jerkin in a growing black circle.
This man is truly inhuman… The boy swung the sword again, raw hands trembling as he parried an attack. He does not tire; he sees every more… He rolled away along the stone from a jab.
Why can’t I find a weak point?
“The answer is simple, race traitor,” said the man suddenly. “I have no weakness!” The man raised a fist. Gunther braced himself against the wall.
Rink! Ping! The two froze. Ping, ping! The squire and king watched as a small, glowing sphere rolled its way between them.
Erebus leapt back behind his chair as the sphere exploded in a flash of light. Next he looked the boy was gone. So, my nephew yet lives.
“Come out, Leonard.” He turned to the knight in the shadows. “Your page and his master have come.”
Chapter 23
Gunther blinked the last few stars from his eyes.
“Hang on!” Raphael ordered as he jockeyed Argo toward the jump to the crumbling bridge that spanned the ravine that divided Erebus’ castle. Raw, bloody hands gripped the dark hair’s tunic numbly.
Upon seeing the jump before them, Gunther shut and squeezed his blue eyes tightly. Raphael wrapped his free arm about the squire as the black steed made the leap.
Both Argo’s and the warrior’s eyes widened as the sound of massive stone dropping followed their frenzied pace across the bridge. The horse leapt again toward the outcropping on the other side. This began to crumble as soon as the steed neared the edge.
Argo snorted, bucking forward suddenly. Both passengers flew onto the stone ledge before them, rolling away from the edge. Gunther stared, horrified as the remaining restraints crumbled.
Raphael lunged forward; making a grab for the rein as the rock broke apart. “Argo!” The faithful black shrieked as it fell into the river far below and was lost to sight.
The warrior’s gray eyes quivered as he stood. Then he tilted his head back toward the lightning shrouded sky above and the climb to the uppermost vista. Gunther stood slowly. The boy, unlike his comrade, had fresh tears upon his face.
Raphael turned to him, eyes stern but not unkind as he took his charge’s chin in his hand and locked their eyes. “Gunther, I have one last command for you. This I request as your friend and guardian.”
Gunther bit his lip, shaking voice forming a choked, “Uh-huh…”
“Listen well now, little one.” Raphael took a breath. “If I fall in this battle, I beseech you, take my remains to Nux.” The dark haired man nearly started as the boy gave a savage howl and hugged him. “Gunther…”
“No! No, Raphael!” The young boy shook, sobbing. “Not you! You won’t die! You can’t!” Gunther choked, coughing and whimpering between gasp after gasp for cold air. Raphael slid his strong arms about the boy.
“Gunther, please.” His grip tightened. “Do you swear?” The thirteen-year-old nodded into his chest. Raphael leaned over the half-Nuxian, kissing his dark head lightly. “I love you, boy. Now, come.”
Taking one of the small, stinging hands, the two began their climb up the stone. Gripping the second ledge up, Raphael pulled Gunther along up the twisting staircases as they emerged below the outcrop that marked the vista.
Silently, he gripped the boy about the waist and heaved him upward. Gunther slid his arms over the edge and dragged himself over. Raphael jumped up after him.
The wind howled as a pack of harpies, bringing with it the needles of stinging rain. Lightning and thunder clashed against their black backdrop. Gunther drew his sword again. Raphael nocked his bolt to the bow. The two walked up the small incline and gazed toward their foes.
Leonard and the now red and black winged Erebus glared back at them. Erebus chuckled.
“Nephew,” he called over the storm in the Nuxian’s tongue, “you survive! You have realized by now that you and Maria’s b*****d will die here, haven’t you?”
“I’ll take great pleasure in carving out your tongue, Uncle! Gunther is mine and I’ll make doubly sure you’ll never threaten his life again!” Again, Erebus laughed loudly, his voice heard over the storm.
“Oh, but I shan’t be the one to soil my hands with your precious boy’s blood!” He turned to Leonard. Now he spoke in an ancient language not even Raphael understood. Leonard the Red became as his namesake.
He grew tall, taller even than the castle and cliffs. His face crushed in upon itself, turning blood red as dark hair appeared along his arms. The armor upon his arms glowed yellow as a fireball was discharged. Great horns sprouted from his head. A bellow was heard that shook the very sky.
Raphael spread his own wings. Gunther gripped the shining sword. Erebus and his nephew took to the sky, the man wielding a great flesh cleaver of a war ax. The squire charged forward as the hulking demon fired its shots anew.
Using every trick he could think of, rolling behind stone barricades built to withstand enemy bombs from the sea to leaping into the trenches hewn from the living rock to shield himself, Gunther moved forward.
As the squire made his way toward the beast, the familial feud raged overhead. Flashes of light rivaled the lightning as their weapons met and cut flesh. Raphael shook, breathing in great heaves. Small cuts decorated his face on his cheek and above his eye. Blood stained his tunic on his right shoulder and blackened his shining pinions. Even great lashes covered his legs, blood sickly warm in his sandals.
Erebus held many minor wounds, the greatest his arrow-covered wings. The man snorted a laugh as Raphael nocked his last arrow to his longbow. “Use your shaft wisely now, Nephew.” He smiled a bloody smile and turned, hurling the ax as the warrior loosed his arrow.
Erebus fell toward the vista. “Your boy…is finished…” Raphael shot his gaze about the open spaces hurriedly, the sight his eyes found making his heart freeze.
Gunther was on hand and knee, blood and soot stained his skin, struggling vainly to pry the ax from his shoulder. The demon howled, raising a hand—the hand that shot the fireball in a flash of light.
Gunther!
The squire gave a gasp of relief as the ax came free. Turning his gaze upward, his zircon orbs glowed in the light of the fiery hell bolt. Gunther remained kneeling, frozen, his mind screaming life saving commands but his body deaf. Then it hit him. No, not it, but a he, Raphael.
The boy gaped at the dark haired warrior, mouth open in a silent scream. For a split second, the man’s hand touched his face, his beautiful eyes the color of a summer’s storm clouds smiling upon him. All the touch meant, all the love that shone in the gray eyes, all was stripped from Gunther as the fireball overtook his guardian.
What happened to the brave one was seen with morbid clarity as Gunther raced after the man. The wings were stripped bear, leaving the acrid smell of burnt feathers. His clothing, skin, and hair were scorched as the warrior was thrown backward, toppling head over end toward the edge. Gunther threw himself forward; hands burnt and bloodstained struggling to catch hold of anything.
His hand grazed the man’s, unable to grip. Tearful cerulean eyes followed the warrior’s downward fall until the dark line of the water far below swallowed him.
Leonard snarled a laugh as the boy stood. The demon eyes watched as the hands that shook so furiously took up longbow and glowing black sword.
The laughter halted sharply as Gunther nocked the sword to the bow.
“He loved me! He loved me and you took him from me!” Black and red swirls shone about the boy’s body, rising from him in waves. Starting as small lumps against his shoulder blades, cerulean feathered wings burst from his back. “Raphael was the one I treasured most in this horrid life!”
The sword flew through the beast’s head, then circled back around to the boy’s hand.
Chapter 24
Gunther wiped the blade clean on his tunic, making darker the graying black cloth. Sheathing the sword and shouldering the bow, the young squire went about collecting the fallen arrows, even one ones in Erebus. He did this not out of need, but mechanically, out of habit.
These tucked under his arm firmly, the thirteen-year-old dove from the outcropping at breakneck speed. Stone passed in a blur as the young half-Nuxian banked and trotted to a stop on the sandy riverbank.
Gunther felt his stomach knot as he saw Argo’s mangled form. Turning from the midnight body, he scanned the river downward. Wait… He doubled back. No… Lying upon the water there, there he was. The boy forced his legs forward.
The squire broke into a run, sloshing through the water to the man. Wrapping his arms under his guardian’s, Gunther kicked his way backward to the shore. Once there, he dragged the limp form onto the sand. His body failed him. He dropped the arrows to the sand; on his knees he threw his face in the once strong man’s breast and sobbed.
“Raphael… Raphael…” His fists dug into the man’s shoulder, his lank hair. “Raphael, please! Please, I beg you, for the love of God, wake up! I love you, too, I do!” Gunther shook as the tears fell onto the charred clothes. “Don’t leave me… I don’t want to be alone…”
Gunther stretched himself out along Raphael’s still warm body, breathing heavily as his wings disappeared, as his eyes fought closing.
“Raphael, Raphael, please…” His voice cracked. The teen allowed his fingers to unclenched. His head sank down upon the man, eyes closing, the last tears forced out. “Raphael… I love you…”
Zephyr looked up, tossing her white mane in greeting. Gunther stood in black rogue shirt, the neck laces open and loose, a red peasant’s jerkin held closed by his belt, and a pair of black soldier’s pants and riding boots. His long brown hair hung in a club nearly to his shoulder blades when he looked up.
Across his back was the quiver with its full stock of hawk fletched arrows. The obsidian sword hung at his left side, his small money pouch at his right.
The boy swung a saddlebag full of food onto the horse. Then lifted up a great burden wrapped in a white shroud and placed it gently before him as he mounted the mare.
Gunther turned Zephyr to the east. Taking a sweet breath, he whispered to the shrouded warrior, “I swear. To Nux.” He gave Zephyr a kick and they galloped toward the rising sun.
Silver Nephil Community Member 
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