The Call of Nys #5 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

28 - J U D S O N

Little by little, several things became a norm; the sound of a low hum that seemed come out of the earth every day at dawn; passing Snow Elves in slightly golden armor with their odd stares and conversational voices that gave life to the gloomy hallways, birds that wrestled by the window for crumbs they found there, sparks of a torch being lit or a final flicker from being put out, infrequent shouts of command in Southern Elvish, breakfast in tidbits; the absence of sunlight and cramping feel of time gone still; faint smells of sweet things in the air toward nighttime, and visits from Phyllis.

Judson understood the meaning of a few of these; one in particular being the hum he felt in the ground.

It was a reminder.

A reminder from Juniper that unsettled him whenever it came. Every day at dawn, he would sense the foremath and wake up, hoping to not be disturbed by her constant hammering of how much time he had run out of.

Time.

That was the thing he was unable to grasp by himself since his arrival in the Guard House. The best way he could tell the break of dawn was through the feel of the air since his guards naturally were inclined to dull weathers and kept a mass of clouds above them at all times. Nighttime was detectable through a settling tiredness in his own body, and noons were usually when Phyllis paid him a visit.

She was always a comforting sight, and the only person allowed passage into the Guard House.

"Have you gotten tired of them not speaking to you yet?" She gestured toward the same Snow Elves that often passed by the cell gate, their chins in the air.

Since his first day, none of them had spared so much as a breath, opting only to stare with eyes that rattled Judson.

"I do not mind that they refuse to." He confessed.

Phyllis's armor was like the kind Waverly once traveled with, but the former's was not silver and had no intricate designs, seeming very plain in comparison.

During her most recent of visits, she revealed the year was nearing its end, supposedly the start of winter.

Now, the signs had followed her in the form of snow covered hair and shoes that she made no effort to brush off.

"How are you faring?" She asked in a quiet and more serious tone of voice. Out of all the others, she was the easiest to relate with.

"Tell me, how does one fare in confinement? Perhaps I have been doing it wrong." He sat with his back to the wall and one arm against a raised knee.

Phyllis was seated in a similar position on the opposite side.

A little chuckle came out of her. "Hint taken."

For a while, he fell quiet, rubbing his fingers together in eagerness to ask the same one question he always did since day one. "Any luck?"

Phyllis's attention, which had not really been far away, turned to him. Her face looked healthy and rotund, as if she had spent very long years in comfortable retirement. However, with her complete armor and belted sword, she appeared like a restless warrior, ready to take on opponents regardless of their number.

"Aurora is being unsurprisingly adamant still." She breathed. "She listens to no one, not even reason."

Judson felt his eye twitch in frustration. "And the King?"

"He remains in the dark about your presence, and I have no clue why."

"She should have gone to him by now." He reasoned.

Phyllis gave a nod in agreement. "She should have. I don't understand her decision to delay, but I am thankful for it. At least, you still live."

He grunted and lowered his face to stare at the ground. "Feels very similar to death being stuck in one place to simply while away."