Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 22 - FORGES OF THE RESISTANCE

Matt awoke the following day to the gentle sounds of birdsong by the window above his new bed. It roused him peacefully, the way he had returned from the world of dreams for so many years on his family farm. He stretched his ever-stiffening back and gave a massive yawn before opening his eyes to take in his surroundings. Anthony lay snoring in his bed on the far side of the room, while Will's bed sat empty, yet expertly made up. He chuckled to himself, it did not surprise him in the least that Will, who had access to servants since the day he was born, made his own bed.

Sitting up slowly, Matt turned his attention to the beautiful landscape that lay outside of his window. The storm had passed overnight leaving the sprawling valley grass covered with morning dew that glistened like a billion little diamonds in the early morning light. Two tiny sparrows, the ones that had woken him from his sleep, sat perched on the outer sill of the window, hopping back and forth excitedly chirping at the sky. Matt smiled at their innocence and happiness, if only he could live as simple of a life as they did.

  Stretching once more he rose from his bed, careful to not wake Anthony, and slipped quietly from the bedroom. Will and Sylvia sat on the sofas in the front room, not talking, just sitting in comfortable silence. Not wishing to disturb them, he attempted to turn quietly back into his room, but Will waved him over, having already spotted him. He joined them with a polite nod, still too drowsy to speak. Sylvia did not respond, but neither did she look away; perhaps her anger was beginning to cool, Matt hoped.

  A flash of movement outside one of the windows caught Matt's attention out of the corner of his eye. A figure dressed in all black with its face obscured with a thick cowl was perched, somehow, upon the third-floor window sill, peering into their chambers. Without moving his head to betray that he had noticed the climber, Matt poked Will with his foot to draw his attention toward their uninvited guest.

  "What are you..." Will began before stiffening beside him as he spotted the intruder. The dark-clad individual straightened its back as it realized that it had been seen, but instead of fleeing, or attacking as Matt had worried it would, the figure waved good-naturedly and motioned for them to open the window.

  After exchanging apprehensive looks with Will and Sylvia, Matt slowly stood from the sofa and nervously approached the window. Extending his right hand towards the heavy latch that held the two sides of the window together he summoned sparks of lightning around his left hand, holding it behind his back out of the view of their visitor. Carefully, he lifted the thick metal latch and slid the large window open.

"Hello?" He asked, knowing that more than a little confusion must have been evident in his voice. The figure pushed back the cowl to reveal a young man in his early twenties with dark brown hair and a smooth, beardless chin. His face split into a wide, disarmingly friendly and excited smile as his hood fell.

  "Hello," the young man replied, hopping off of the window sill and into the living room of their chambers. "I am Ezrael Benjamin, nephew of Duke Lucas Benjamin. I have been sent to escort you all to the war room. A decision has been reached on how to handle Hal Heartwick and the Dukes are hopeful that you have come to a consensus on their offer to join the cause." He extended his hand to Matt, who after a moment of hesitation dropped the power that he had conjured around his hand and accepted the young nobleman's hearty handshake.

  The door to the bedroom burst open and Anthony ran into the room with concern written all over his face. "Someone just snuck past my window..." he began hurriedly, sleep still in his eyes. His voice trailed off as he saw Ezrael standing just inside the now-open window. His brow crinkled in confusion as he tried to make sense of the scene he had awoken to.

  "Ah, that would have been me," Ezrael said with a laugh, relinquishing Matt's hand to shake Anthony's hand vigorously. The young Duke smiled despite his confusion, Ezrael's vigor for life was contagious.