Valadel

Chapter XXVII

The sun was just above the horizon, illuminating the waves with a golden light. It would soon fall behind the sea, and Tytus would have to set a fire. He shifted in the chair he brought from the safehouse. Cristomir laid on the ground next to him, in a light sleep. The air was cold and nipping at him, causing him to shiver in his armor. The sky was cloudy, large puffy gray clouds slowly moving above them. The doors to the castle were slightly shut, a small creek between them. Tytus could see Jorden in the far distance. He wasn't able to make out any building or person, but could see the large, brown landmass. He yearned for it. He yearned to be back in the barracks and the training yard, accompanied by his brother rangers. He just wanted out of this horrible nightmare. To his right, Cristomir sat up from his resting place. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. He clutched his chest as his ribs screamed in pain, causing him to grunt.

"Easy," said Tytus. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," said Cristomir through gritted teeth.

"You don't look fine. You could've just stayed with the others."

"And what? Leave you out here all by yourself with no company?"

"You've been asleep the entire time!" Tytus chuckled, and it was the first time he had done so in a while.

"Oh piss off."

The sun had begun to dip behind the ocean, signifying the end of Tytus' shift. He would let Miles know it was his turn.

"Come on. Our times up. Lets head on back and tell Miles."

"Alright then...do you...do you mind giving me a hand?" said Cristomir, who struggled with taking one step.

Tytus shook his head. "Fine." He put Cristomir's arm over his shoulder. They slowly walked through the doors and down the hall. They passed through the room with the grand, glass mural and into the grand corridor. The shuffled to the small hallway on the left and to the blocked entrance. Tytus lifted the case as high as he could as Cristomir slowly and painfully hobbled through. Miles stood from his chair, which Cristomir took, and held the bookcase as Tytus crawled under.

"How are things? Any news?" Tytus asked Miles.

Miles stared at Tytus, dreading to have to tell him of the recent events.

"Um...we found Aryanne."

"Good," said Tytus.

"But...we lost...we lost Danticus," he said, his voice soft enough so only Tytus could hear.

Tytus' mouth dropped open. "No...no, not again...you, you're lying to me," he said, getting louder with each phrase.

"I'm sorry...I don't know what to say."

"Tytus, what's going on?" said a worried Cristomir.

Tytus repressed his punch something. It was what he did when was angry, when he was upset. "Your cousin is...he's," he struggled trying to find the words to say to Cristomir. "He's gone," he said at last.

Cristomir shut his eyes tight. He dropped his head as far as his bruised and broken ribs would let him. He silently wept for his fallen brother.

"What happened?" asked Tytus, quite loudly.

"Aryanne said he, that magic here killed him...you'll have to ask her for more information."

Tytus eyed Aryanne from across the room, who sat next to a healthy, restored Valyn. They were talking silently, conversing among each other. He left Miles and quickly and ominously walked towards Aryanne. He stopped in front of her, his hands curled into fists at his side.