Evmor: The Calling

Chapter 9

Happy New Year everybody! Hope you have a great 2015. Here's the first chapter of this year.

Chapter 9

I was then ushered into an expansive room, full of thick rugs and plush couches. A thick curtain had been drawn across unmistakably huge windows, and I wondered if they led out to a balcony. Through an archway, I caught a glimpse of a four-poster bed was stationed inside the smaller room, and I longed to sink into the plentiful cushions and fall into an oblivious sleep. A round tub was placed in the center of the main room, filled almost to the brim with steaming water. There was a scent that I couldn't quite place that wafted up from the water, sweet yet refreshing at the same time. A man in a white robe stood from his seat on a stool as I entered, and I guessed he was the physician that Aylin had told me about. He was a thin man, his shoulders seeming to curl in on itself, his brown streaked with gray. His pristine white robe was the only thing that was neat about him.

"Come, my lady." He said and gestured me to another stool that sat by the fire. I cringed at his formal tone but followed him to the stool, shucking off my cloak. I was reminded of the time when Ilana had treated my wound on my first day in Evmor.

The physician tugged up my sleeve and started to peel of the bandages skillfully. I winced a little when the bandage pulled at my arm, and winced again when the ugly wound under it was revealed. It had stopped bleeding but was still weeping clear liquid. Luckily it seemed it had avoided being infected as the physician gently prodded at the wound.

"Looks like this will need a stitch." He said as he started to take out the tools from a bag that sat on his side. Great. Another stitch. I thought, exasperatedly.

I sat patiently throughout the entire process of sanitizing the needle, hooking the thread, and stitching the wound closed. He told me that the ways of healing were a little different in Evmor, and proved by revealing my previous wound, which had healed completely. Now it was only a scar, a shiny line on my upper arm. Marco—I had asked for his name—and I made small chit chat about this world and he kindly explained small details about Evmor that I was unfamiliar with. He told me of the lives of the citizen living within the city walls, or those who lived outside it. They were either farmers or those who preferred the open space to the safety of the city.

Marco, like many other people in Evmor, knew of the prophecy, the one that turned out to be about me. I didn't reveal that I was the one who was supposed to bring back the queen, but he sympathized with the unknown individual who had been given so much responsibility.

"It must be quite a burden," he said, nodding, empathy clear on his face, "I mean I've never been given such a large responsibility, so I can only imagine how difficult it must be for that person. I can only hope they will succeed in the end."

"So you don't approve of the Atramentos taking Velduron?" I asked cautiously. I wanted to get an idea of who would stand with me when the time came—if it ever did.

"Taking a kingdom by force—that's something I don't agree with. Especially a kingdom that has been standing proudly for several millennia," he muttered, this time shaking his head, "Velduron was a flourishing kingdom and the Atramentos had no business causing such destruction." His jaw was tightly clenched and a small frown creased his brows.

"If you don't mind my asking," he gestured for me to go on, "why do you care so much? What was Velduron to you?" I asked. His defensive attitude had taken me aback, and I was curious to know why he felt so strongly about it.

He looked up from staring unseeingly at the floor directly at me. His eyes were a dull brown, tiny wrinkles crinkling the edge of his eyes, and now they were tight with carefully contained anger. "It was my home. Mine and my family's." Marco said tersely. At my unvoiced question he answered, "They were all killed that day."