CHAPTER 7: Refuge

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Bercoven Woods, Kingdom of Maceria, Obsidian Empire

Circa 1293 AD

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When Iseriel next opened her eyes, she was in a simple room with roughly cut wooden walls and floors. The room was brightly lit and warmed by a burning hearth opposite the bed she lay on. Her head was conveniently propped by a thick set of pillows so that she was half sitting and half lying on her back.

Beside her, a boy around the age of eight years with wide brown eyes and a thick mop of oily russet hair sat on a stool, staring at her.

"Hello," he said, smiling. He cupped a small wooden bowl tenderly before him. Inside was a red slurp, like a dirty and thick strawberry juice.

"Where am I?" Iseriel asked, the croak in her voice surprising her.

"In the woods," the boy replied, "I'm Cray." He smiled, apparently trying to be cute. The boy had that proud air about him.

"And I'm alive," she said, surprised, more to herself than to the boy. She did make it out alive. But how?

"Oh yes," Cray replied, "my Pa brought you, you see."

Cray pointed his thumb over his shoulder. Iseriel's eyes followed it and saw an unconscious man lying on his back half-naked on another bed. Bandages covered his shoulders and torso. The man was muscular and surprisingly had black hair. His skin was also a tinge darker than most of the people Iseriel saw in her entire life. Except for that one monarch beside the Emperor in her memories.

"Oh, please drink this." Cray gingerly offered the wooden bowl to her mouth.

Iseriel had no strength to object and at the moment, she could barely move her arms. So she awkwardly drank the dirty slurp as the lip of the bowl touched her mouth. It was bitter and sharp but she managed to finish it.

Immediately, Iseriel felt the pain begin to subside. A pain she did not realize was there until she felt better from that medicine. Her entire body still felt tinges of pain, but she knew she was getting better.

She grimaced after she finished the slurp. Cray put the bowl down on the bedside table and ran to the door.

"Ma, she's come to," the boy called outside.

A shuffle of footsteps later, Cray's mother entered the room carrying a pitcher of water. She was a bony woman with pale skin and blonde hair, in stark contrast to the unconscious man. She straightaway approached Iseriel with a kind smile.

"Drink, dear," she said. With deft hands, she poured water on the empty wooden bowl on the bedside table and expertly raised it back to her lips. The water diluted what remained of the red medicine. Iseriel downed everything in one go. The medicine had an instant effect, diminishing more pain.

"You should be thankful we still had a few Hawberries left," she said as she laid the pitcher and bowl back on the table, then sat on the stool Cray was sitting in prior.

"Hawberries?"

"And a tinge of magic." The woman winked at her. Cray approached and she delicately dragged him to an embrace from behind so that the boy faced Iseriel.

"I know you have questions. I'm Lars and this is Cray."

Cray smiled at her.

"The battered man on the other bed is my husband Damian."

Damian! Iseriel glanced at the man. The bear! It all made sense now. She had made it after all.

"So how can we help?"

"I…" Iseriel hesitated. Does she dare trust these people? Well. The man did save her from certain death. And the woman and boy nursed her back to health.

"Keep your secrets," Lars said. "Just tell us what you need to do or where you need to go."

At this, Iseriel decided to trust them. "Galistile," she said.

"Oh my," the woman said. "You're a long way from your destination then, dear."

"I know," she replied. "It's the only other place I can go."

"I take it Galistile was not your original destination then."

Shit. This woman is smart.

"Where are we?" Iseriel asked again, trying to change the topic.

"Bercoven Woods," Lars replied.

"But the King," Iseriel started.

"You're safe here. Don't worry."

Iseriel did worry. Soldiers could be scouring the forests at the moment.

"No, the soldiers could be here any moment."

"Oh, they will not be getting close to this little hut in the woods. Magic." Lars smiled proudly at that. Cray also grinned from ear to ear.

"Yea," the boy seconded. "Me mum is a Torren, see!"

"Hush, boy," Lars said in mock reprimand. "But in all honesty, for as long as I and Damian are here, nobody will find this hut. Not even the Emperor himself."

"Damian?" Iseriel finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Is that Damian The Therian?"

Lars's face darkened. She stood up and retreated to her unconscious husband, dragging a bewildered Cray in tow.

"Who are you? Only Eiridan Acheranes know him by that name!"

She produced a dagger from the back of her waist and wielded it easily with her right hand, the edge running along her forearm, while her left clutched her son across the chest. She crouched a little, looking ready to pounce.

Iseriel immediately regretted talking. This was no ordinary housewife.

"I'm no Acherane," Iseriel said, her eyes wary on the dagger. "I am the daughter of Valcethya."

"The Alwyn?" Lars stood straight, seeming to relax

Iseriel did not reply. That Lars asked in itself was confirmation that she also knew.

Out of nowhere, Lars stabbed the dagger on the bed, mere inches from the sleeping Damian's ear. Cray was speechless throughout the entire event but winced as the dagger thudded and stuck to the wood. Lars immediately returned to hugging her son.

"You bastard," Lars said to the unconscious man.

"I'm sorry, Cray," Lars's motherly tone returned. The boy had tearful eyes but he tried to hold them back. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She carried him and walked towards the door, then paused and looked at Iseriel with apologetic eyes.

"Rest," she said. "Yes. He is your father, the Therian. When he wakes, he will want to know what happened to your mother." Then she stepped out.

Iseriel reflexively touched her abdomen just as the door closed. She felt it, the tiny heartbeat. King Merleon and the Emperor of Obsidian had failed.

Iseriel lives. More importantly, her unborn child is unharmed. All that pain was worth it.