Chapter 28: An Old Lady’s Scoff [2]

Ciera had woken up from her deep sleep. With a blue-colored teddy bear in her embrace, she yawned like a kitten. She looked around, wary, until she glimpsed Klive bundled and covered by a blanket. She smiled, her little canines showing. Her little brother wasn’t out for mischief again.

The noise outside was a little loud. Aside from the carriage noise, it seemed like the villagers were complaining. The gossips buzzed.

She ruffled up her blankets and opened the covers of the carriage.

She peeked and watched the villagers gazed in the direction where they took a brief rest. She then heard the villagers talking to each other.

“Will they really follow us?”

“It’s already been half-hour seen we left.”

“I see no sight of my dumb kids.”

“Nor my dumb brother!”

“Maybe, we should ask the village chief or the chief escort.”

“Considering my dumb son, he would only wake up when the sun is at its peak!”

“Mine too.”

“Mine would only wake up when he smelt food!”

The wives bragged about something not worth bragging about at all.

Soon, Ciera saw her eldest brother. He was talking to the soldiers. She waved his hands and called.

“Liszt! What going on?” Ciera watched her brother moved his horse towards her carriage.

“Nothing, it's Uncle Sept playing a game.” Liszt shook his head. A wry smile slipped on his lips.

Ciera’s eyes widened in curiosity. “What game?”

Soon, Ciera heard a loud howl coming from the nearby forest. It was like what they heard before they left the village. Her face shifted into hues, slowly turning ashen white.

“A sprint.” Liszt turned and scratched his cheeks, looking a little troubled. “Ciera. Wake up, Klive.”

She nodded and walked towards the bundle of cloth. She shook it, but Klive didn’t wake up.

Ciera frowned and pulled the entire blanket off.

“…”

There was nothing.

No Klive, but only a bundle of cloth.

Her expression paled. With her lips trembling, she looked out and called Liszt.

“Klive’s not here.”

Liszt’s eyes widened as a bitter realization struck. He mounted off his horse and raced inside the carriage. The two gazed at the bundle of cloth, their lips twitching.

“Wait for me here.” Liszt immediately ran towards his steed, pulled the reins of his horse. His direction back to the place the villagers had taken a brief rest. He wanted to look for Klive and Septharion.

***

Klive found his eyes wide open after hearing grunting villagers outside. He heard soldiers shushing the villagers.

Curious to see what was happening, he bundled the blanket to look like he was still there, sleeping. Klive opened the covers of the carriage. He jumped with the book in his arms. He then hid behind a big rock.

Klive’s eyes shone in curiosity. He heard the soldiers promised the worried villagers. The sleeping youths would follow later. The soldiers promised.

He wondered why the carriages and the other villagers were told to move in silence. Thinking for a moment, his eyes shone with delight. Uncle Sept was up for a game once again.

A game he doesn’t know. And he wanted to know.

His eyes flickered. Klive waited.

He saw the villagers moving away, followed by the carriages.

The night wind passed, blowing its chilly wind. It caressed the faces of the remaining sleeping villagers. One by one, they woke up. The first one to open his sleepy eyes was a young villager.

Klive peeked at the dumbfounded youth as he hid behind the big rock. Klive couldn’t help but giggle as he looked at the youth’s empty, drooling face.

Whatever kind of game they were playing. It was funny.

The youth woke up the other villagers. He even kicked some in the butt to wake them up. Each one of them looking lost like motherless chicks.

“Awoohh!”

Klive shifted his head, gazing at the tall scrubs and grasses. His eyes turned into saucers. He felt his heart pounding faster and faster. It was just like when he helped his little sister against Uncle Davin.

Klive shifted his head towards the source of howls. There were bloody-red eyes peeked from the bushes. One. Two. The numbers slowly increased.

“One, two, three, four, and five…”

Then Klive watched the black beasts rushing towards villagers. The cries of the villagers dumbfounded the little lad, and he felt lost. The howls triggered the deep-seated fear hiding within the hearts of the young villagers to burst forth.

The young villagers stumbled and rushed towards him. No. They were running towards the caravan tracks.

The little boy’s eyes widened. The moment he saw those bloody eyes, he understood that this was not some game.

With the wooden book in his arms, Klive ran along with the villagers. Beads of sweat flowed from his ash-gray hair, the strands sticking like mud as he sprinted with all he had. He huffed and puffed, pushing his small limbs to move faster.

It didn’t take long for the young villagers to overtake him. Until the slowest one passed over him. The youth even looked at him for a moment. Klive saw the hesitation in his eyes. Still, the youth continued to run ahead.

Klive stared at the heavy book in his arms. Klive believed he could run faster. If he put down the book, he could outrun the youth.

It was a basic logic in his eyes. Something taught by her mother.

His instincts knew better.

He could outrun the youth, but not the wolves.

Klive chose not to forsake the book.

With rugged breath, Klive felt it was getting warmer and warmer. As if Klive was taking a hot water bath. Something he loved.

His heart was getting serene. It wasn’t galloping anymore. He found peace.

Klive raised his head to the night sky. He took a deep breath and pulled to a stop. His legs felt weak. He closed his eyes for a moment. He imagined what will the old grandma do if she was here.

He glimpsed at the book again and put his palms over the book. The cover of the odd book was like silk - smooth and velvety. It was very calming. Faced with those ugly wolves, Klive knew no fear.

His palms slowly turned warmer, as if it was inviting him to come and read.

Come and read in the middle of the wolves…

“Duchess.” The first word he read, he let out as a faint whisper.

***

The hidden soldiers had already saved the young villagers. It was all going according to Septharion’s plan. The man only wanted to give them a good scare. A life lesson.

Septharion also wanted to lure out the hidden death wolves out from the forest and wipe them out. He doesn’t like the feeling of someone watching them through the night. It was irksome.

But now, he wished he didn’t start this stupid game at all. The moment he saw Liszt huffing towards him. His smile slowly vanished. Something was wrong. There’s only one thing that can make the young Lord this worried. One was his sister, and the second one was his little brother.

Liszt raised his head and listlessly looked at Septharion. He uttered one word. “Klive.”

Septharion’s face slowly twisted. He immediately mounted his steed and sprinted towards where they left the lazy villagers, along with Liszt.

They arrived at the perfect time.

The little lad sat on the meadows like a free meal. On his lap was the wooden book. It was wide open. Klive wore an innocent smile as he gazed at the book.

Septharion’s heart almost separated from his body. He saw the Death wolves in haste, bloodthirsty for their sitting meal.

With all his strength, he whipped his steed and rushed towards Klive, leaving a trail of dust.

He was still a hundred meters away when the first wolf lunged down to Klive.

Septharion shuddered and gritted his teeth. His hand couldn’t help but shake. He would rather die than for something to happen to the kid.

Whistling like an arrow, Septharion pulled out his beloved sword and threw it like a javelin towards the Death wolf. The sword pierced the head of the wolf. With a thud, the wolf fell to the ground.

Dead in a matter of seconds.

In a quick breath, another four death wolves leaped towards the kid.

Thirty meters…

Septharion could only run ahead, his white hair whipping in the hair. The eyes of the burly old man turned dull.

He got no more way out.

He decided to at least get the kid’s corpse, even if he had to die.

Even so, fate liked to play with his old heart.

“…”

The moment the death wolves were about to tear off the head of Klive.

Septharion and Liszt saw a white flame bursting from the odd book. Time slowed for a moment and a white-haired lady dressed in white walked out of the book. She threw a grandmotherly gaze at the little lad and a bitter glare at the wolves. She stood before the wolves and Klive with nonchalance and courage.

Septharion and Liszt's hearts skipped a beat as a raging white flame burst forth from the lady. It immediately rushed forth into her fist. She clenched her fist and punched. A giant white fist appeared from above the skies, smashing the lunging wolves asunder, pressing them to the ground. The wolves weren’t even allowed to scream as they slowly turned into dust. They came and they’re gone.

The white flame completely obliterated the wolves in the face of Eudoria. The white flame continuously burning even the ashes. Leaving no traces at all.

The lady then shifted her head. She had a big frown on her face. Her long white hair whipped in the air as she glanced at Septharion with furrowed brows. She raised her fist like an angry grandmother, a warning for Septharion.

She then let out a heavy ‘hmnp’ before vanishing. Tiny motes of light waltzed in where she once stood.

In a blink of an eye, like a fleeting dream, the white-haired lady disappeared.