Duty

Somehow, Myran was still holding on to the books. His ears rang and his eyes watered with the heavy smoke hanging in the air.

He did not initially recognize the face of the person who knelt next to him and gently guided him to his feet. 

"Are you able to walk?" The voice was familiar. 

"Senior Disciple, I… forgive my disrespect," Myran's voice sounded far away and rehearsed, raspy, as if he had swallowed a mouthful of smoke. He bowed his head woodenly, wondering how he had not immediately recognized her. 

"Never mind that now," Seniors Disciple Myrella said, urging him away from the trees and back to where their camps had been. "Go join and help the others."

After making sure he could indeed stand and walk on his own, she left him and approached the younger princess. Myran stood there, still unable to move. The princess knelt on the ground, her face raised to the sky where her sister had disappeared. 

Senior Disciple Myrella knelt next to her and, just as gently as she had done with Myran, coaxed her to her feet. She guided the princess to where Myran still stood. 

"Come quickly, you two. We must regroup and tend to the wounded." 

Myran and the princess walked silently behind Senior Disciple Myrella. The closer they got to their camps, the worse things looked. The carriage was still engulfed in flames, illuminating the grim scene that greeted them. 

Soldiers and guards lay in pieces, scattered all around where earlier that evening they had sat and talked about inane and mundane things. Now, they were no more than torn flesh, piles of ash, and warped armor. 

Everything inside of Myran had gone completely still. His mind told him he should be screaming, crying, maybe getting ready to hunt the creature down. But he seemed unable to do anything but gaze at the destruction as if he were observing it through someone else's eyes. 

It almost did not seem real. 

"Senior Disciple," someone called. The incessant ringing in Myran's ears was replaced by groans of pain and pleas for someone, anyone, to please, please, make the pain stop. Just make it stop. 

Help, someone, please help. Gods, please help us. 

The voices all merged into one and Myran's eyes flew from soldier, to guard, to disciple, to apprentice. All of which had been carried some distance away from the carnage and were being tended to by the survivors. Myran could not even distinguish between easterner and westerners. Their armor and uniforms were burnt beyond recognition, some fused to their skin. 

He should help. He should put down the books he still held on to and help the wounded. He was no specialist, but he knew enough about treating mild wounds to be of some help. He knew what leaves to boil and grind to form a paste that would ease the burns. He knew…

"I cannot go back to my father," the younger princess murmured next to him. 

"Good, we require your help here anyway," Senior Disciple Myrella said without looking up from the person she was treating. Most of their hair was gone, and half their face had melted. 

"I cannot stay here either," the princess said. 

Senior Disciple Myrella pulled one of the apprentices to her side and, after explaining what needed to be done to the injured person, rose and came to a stop in front of the princes. 

"And where exactly do you plan on going then?" She asked. 

"To the Eastern Palace, to inform the King of what happened here. To ask him to send a detachment of guards to aid in the search for my sister," the princess's voice wobbled on the last word, but when Myran glanced at her, her eyes were dry. 

Senior Disciple Myrella's face softened a fraction. "I do not mean these words to be unkind, but the odds of your sister still being alive are not good."

Myran thought they were closer to zero, but he refrained from saying anything. 

"I am aware. However, unfavorable odds do not equate null odds. I observed the creature, and it seemed to kill indiscriminately." The princess gestured to the graveyard behind them and the injured being treated. "Why then, did it carry my sister away instead of simply killing her too?"

Senior Disciple Myrella frowned, looking puzzled. "I cannot say. But it would be unwise to attempt to travel the rest of the way to the Eastern Palace, given our present condition. Most of us cannot walk, and those who can would not survive with the few rations we have. We must carry the wounded back to The Golden Light Temple and send for healers."

The princess nodded. "You should do that. And I trust our western soldiers will be safe under your care?"

A steel-eyed glare replaced Senior Disciple Myrella's previous frown. "Of course. We value life and knowledge, not squabbles for power."

Myran thought the princess might be offended. But, instead, she sighed in relief. "Good. Then I shall travel the rest of the way to the Eastern Palace on my own."

"Milady, you cannot," Senior Disciple Myrella said and glanced at Myran as if hoping for backup. Myran still could not fully wrap his head around what had happened. "The road is dangerous. Not to mention the Eastern Capital itself. And even if you do make it there, how do you propose to be allowed inside the Palace without your escort?"

"I will escort her," a raspy voice said. The three of them turned to see the woman in purple who had whipped Myran's Senior Brother Disciple. She had an ugly burn wound on her right arm, and her hair had come undone from its braid, but she looked otherwise unharmed. "Clan Leader Venarec will make sure we are welcomed into the Palace."

Senior Disciple Myrella shook her head slowly. "We need all those who were not injured to help us take these people back to the temple." She gestured to the ten or so soldiers and guards who had survived from their initial escort of over fifty people. 

"My master's orders were to ensure the princesses made it safely to the Palace. I am not here to play wet nurse to anyone." She sneered at the injured as if it had been their fault. 

Myran did not know how many magic wielders had been in their escort. When facing the creature, it had not seemed to matter. 

Senior Disciple Myrella still looked uncertain as she eyed the woman in purple. Myran understood. Though Clan Leader Venarec and his disciples had the support of the crown, they were not always welcomed with open arms by the other clans. 

Blood magic was, after all, more than a bit unsavory, to say the least. 

"I will also escort her," Myran blurted out, his mind finally seeming to catch up to what was happening. He owed the princess, after all. 

If she had not pulled him under the carriage alongside herself and her sister, he would be just another pile of ash on the ground, carried away by the first wind and easily forgotten. 

Senior Disciple Myrella turned to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he dared to interrupt her. "If I may be so bold, Senior Disciple, would you grant me a real weapon so I may protect the princess?"

She eyed Myran for a moment, then reached out her hands and took the books he still pressed against his chest. "I will care for these. And you will care for this." She unstrapped the sword from around her waist and handed it to Myran. "Master Rennin entrusted the Blessed Blade to me before he left. I trust you to use it to escort the princess safely and return it to our master."

Myran relinquished the books and held the blade in both hands, eyes wide in awe. The scabbard of the sword was wrapped in white leather, reinforced with bands of polished gold that caught the flickering flames and absorbed their light. Delicate, intricate filigree adorned all its length, and near the mouth of the scabbard, golden rays spread out like sunbeams. The belt attachments were made from the same material and shaped like the sun. Myran's eyes traced the length of the sword and ended on the hilt that was also wrapped in white leather that had never tarnished despite its age, ending in a pommel shaped like a sunburst, a single clear crystal nestled at its center. 

If the legends were to be believed, it had once belonged to The Golden Saint himself, and he had wielded it when cleansing the place that would one day become The Golden Light Temple. 

He knelt on the ground in front of Senior Disciple Myrella and bowed his head. "I will honor this Blessed Blade and carry out my duty. This, I vow."

When Myran rose to his feet, Senior Disciple Myrella nodded approvingly. The woman in purple snorted and rolled her eyes. The princess gazed curiously at the sword he held. 

"I will fetch some supplies for you three." Senior Disciple Myrella gestured for an apprentice to do just that, and the girl scurried off, eyes wide and movement jerky. Then she turned back to Myran and placed one hand over his head. "Remember you are of The Golden Light Temple. Do your duty well."