Eventide Scriptures I - The Shattering of an Era

Chapter 2.2 - The Measure of a Friend (Part II)

"The fuckers are here!" Shouts from outside roused them. They moved away from the entrance until their backs hit the wall.

"My beloved, what happened to you? You li'l bastards! I'll gouge out your eyes too!"

The commotion mingled with all kinds of curses told them that the brigands were trying everything to get in. However, after a while, it became clear that they could not. Eiran squeezed Varne's shoulder and exhaling.

"We should've gone back to the village and told the others instead of facing them alone," Varne said.

"They were collecting wet leaves and branches at the forest edge. That wasn't for warmth. They wanted to create smoke to make the villagers flee, thinking there's a forest fire and then loot it. We would've been too late if we went back first."

"So, that's why you threw rocks at them?"

"I asked if you had a different idea, but you just shook your head and said, 'Well, I have no better idea.' Don't forget, you threw rocks too! The biggest one!"

They both laughed, but their laughter was soon interrupted by the smell of smoke. Through the gaps between the rocks covering the cave's mouth, thick grey smoke crept in.

"Those bastards!"

"Varne, lie down. Hopefully, my guess is correct."

They both flattened their bodies against damp cave floor. The smoke crept toward them but then swung upward and out through the crack in the ceiling, just as Eiran had hoped. The brigands stopped smoking them out after about an hour. Varne was slightly out of breath, but nothing more, while Eiran continued to cough.

"Eir, your illness is getting worse."

"I'm fine." Eiran sat cross-legged, waving his hands.

The back of the cave was dark. Even from this distance, they could hardly see each other's faces. For a while they did not speak, just listening to the brigands blaming each other.

"Varn, don't count on my uncle. But your father will come, won't he?" Eiran said after his coughing subsided.

"Yes. We just need to hold out until then."

"Can your father handle six men?"

"He's a Prana Decima. He can."

"Right... I almost forgot because your father never showed his Prana."

"I wonder about that too." Varne could only make out a silhouette beside him when he turned. "Father trains me in secret. He also told me not to show it, even though being able to use Prana is not that special."

"Can you use Prana, Varn?"

"Well... not yet. What's the point of training so hard if there's no chance to show it, right? Father also doesn't allow me to do anything."

"No wonder you're beaten up." Even in the dim light, Eiran's annoying grin remained just as annoying.

"Why didn't you train? My father offered to train you, didn't he?"

"Because of my physical condition. My Prana didn't even reach the minimum threshold. Before your father, someone told me that but I didn't believe her. You know they often lie so you'll train with them. But I believe your father."

Everyone has Prana and Mana, but not everyone possesses enough to use in combat. In other words, not combat effective. Varne knew this.

"You should train, Varn. Having Prana talent is a rare opportunity."