The Custodian Chronicles: The Rising (Finished)

Chapter 3: The Boy

Cedrick moaned, trying to adjust where he lay, but his body felt too heavy. He fought to even look around. He was able to see only a little. He lay in a giant wooden cage. Screams and yells were descending on his ears like blows from a hammer, making his head ring. There was a painful tug on Cedrick's body; he tried to fight it off, but it only grew in intensity.

Cedrick started to cry to try to get the pain out, but it only grew stronger, and he cried louder. Something large caught his peripheral vision, causing him to start. It was a hand. A hand as large as his whole side. Cedrick tried to see who it belonged too, but the compression grew worse until Cedrick felt he would burst. He screamed to release it, but to no avail. Just when he was sure he could not bear another moment, there was a colossal expulsion.

Cedrick awakened with a start, and he plunged out of bed, knocking over a small table, causing a crash that made such a noise it could wake the dead. He was panting as if he'd not taken breath for hours. He tried to sooth his over-reacting body. It was all a dream; he was alright. Cedrick let out a hard sigh and laid his head back, wondering if he woke anyone.

His silent query was answered as Arylana appeared. "Cedrick, what the thrones...?" She began, but upon seeing him on the floor, put the pieces together. She huffed and knelt beside him, picking up a few books as she gave Cedrick a look. "You had that dream again, didn't you?" Cedrick stood without answering and began putting all the fallen objects away.

Arylana knew the answer in his face; she exhaled her exasperation and stood up too. "Five, that's how old you were when you first could tell me what you were dreaming; I think you had this dream even before that. Aren't you ever going to tell father? You and I can't solve it, perhaps he can."

"Yeah, then he won't consider me a child, a child afraid of nightmares. That can't make my life any more difficult." Cedrick said sarcastically.

"Cedrick, he doesn't think you're weak."

"Don't lie, if he doesn't hate me, then he at least believes that." Arylana looked down, unable to meet Cedrick's eye. Cedrick huffed. "That's what I thought." He turned around and picked up his shirt. He slipped it on as their father entered.

"Cedrick, what's going on in here?" He demanded.

"Nothing," Cedrick answered. "Just rolled out of bed; broke the vase; no more." Margorim studied him for a moment then turned and walked away.

Arylana faced Cedrick. "This can't go on. You can't constantly be at war with father."

"Say that to him." Cedrick snapped. "I'm not the one instigating war. You better go before father snaps at you for lazing about."

Arylana considered Cedrick with a sympathetic air but unable to change anything, she left. Cedrick watched her go and sighed as he picked up his sword.

Even if it was early, his father was up, so they had to be about their duties. When Cedrick arrived in the kitchen, his intimates were sitting around the table. Cedrick sat down to eat and shoved down his meal before his father could say a word. He got up to get to work.

Cedrick fetched Arylana's practice weapon -- which he'd promised to repair for her -- and took it outside. With his small knife, he set to work, smoothing out the nicks, and carefully studying to see if the sides still came out to the even points.

Cedrick tried not to let his mind dwell on his anger, but it kept choosing that spot. Another six months of practice then another test. Then, if he did enough to please father, the real Test. Only then would he finally prove his merit in the family line and join the battle to defeat Heklis.