The Novel's Sidekick

Yeriel woke up again with a headache. Her vision wavered as she blinked multiple times, squinting her eyes. Her head was a bit dizzy, but the fever came down, however, she’s not even in the faintest mood to celebrate.

The reason being she was tied up in the corner of a dark room, arms behind her back with a dirty cloth against her mouth. She had the faint remembrance of waking up here before, but about what actually happened—she didn’t remember much of it.

The silver lining was that she was not alone. There were about a dozen more like her tied up all over in the cramping the small room, while a heatstone radiated warmed all around, though the icy wind never stopped giving her shivers, finding its way through the crumbling cottage.

A couple of the rogue practitioners stood close to the heatstone, keeping their eyes open, even though all of them were tied with their channels sealed. Yeriel found nothing else to note other than them, and apart from a few familiar faces.

​ Althan was across from her, seemed to be dozing off, but conscious, though his condition was no better. Kian was next to him, on his back, unconscious. Yeriel didn’t know how long she was unconscious, but she was sure a day had passed already, yet there was no change in her channels. It was sealed just like before and if she try to even wield a bit of energy; she felt like her body was being ripped apart.

Abruptly, the door of the small room opened and entered two individuals. She didn’t remember any of them. Her memory of yesterday was hazy, not to mention she could barely see anything in the dark. All she remembered was after fleeing from William, Althan and his group found her, however, her trail brought another disaster to them.

Perhaps they would’ve been fine if she didn’t find them. She let out a breath, thinking all this would be of no help.

“I heard there’s one prince among us?” One of the dark-cloaked men asked. He’s of tall stature and fine build asked, eyes staring at the two guards.

However, before the two could answer, Althan lifted his head. His face was pale, but hope gleamed in his eyes, hearing someone asking for him.

“Ifs meee,” he said, groaning. He managed to produce a gap in the cloth to say that much.

“Let’s hear what he has to say,” the man said, gesturing to free Althan’s mouth.

Althan didn’t want for even a second. “Let me go, or you’ll have my father’s wrath upon you.” He broke into a fit of coughing. “It's not too late. You can still undo--”

“That one is cute,” the dark-cloaked man said, gagging a laugh.

Althan still muttered those words as if his head was not in the right place. His tone wavered, sometimes high, sometimes as low to the point of inaudible. Seriously, what happened to him when she was unconscious? She didn’t even remember much of the confrontation between Althan and the dark sorcerer, but she remembered Althan being overwhelmingly out-mastered with just a flick of a finger.

“You don’t know my father,” Althan was still at it, not even noticing it was not working in the slightest. “You want dynes, I can give it to you, so many that you’ve never seen it together in one place. Let me go, my father . . .”

“Unlock him,” the dark-cloaked man said. “Rojar would like to have a talk with him.”

Althan seemed finally heard the ‘unlock’ part as his head rose again, muttering. “Yes,” he said, voice jittery, but relieved. “Let me leave, and I’ll reward you, make you . . .”

He really thought they were letting him go. Was it just because of the sheltered life he had lived or because of what he went through? Perhaps both, Yeriel thought. She didn’t have the slightest clue what she would do now, not that she was in any position to do anything other than groaning, but her mind jolted awoke at the next words of the dark practitioner.

“Also, bring the girl.” There’s only one girl here tied up in the corner.

The two in charge of guards complied without question. Althan didn’t resist in the slightest, while Yeriel groaned, screaming, though hardly any of it make out of its way thanks to the clothes tied up in her mouth. However, all her struggles made it clear to the rogue warders that she wanted nothing of what they were intending. But that didn’t hold them back even a little.

She was freed, at least, of the chains, though the cloth was still tied up to her mouth. Yeriel tried to struggle, but a touch of foreign spirit energy reached her channels at that moment, and she felt her soul severing again as she fell, groaning.

“We all like a good sport, but you should, at least, watch the environment.” The dark-cloaked man said and stooped to untie the clothes from her mouth. “That should teach a lesson. Behave yourself when you're in the presence of Master Rojar.”

The dark practitioner stared right at her eyes as if piercing through her. Yeriel felt a sense of horror from those eyes and found herself nodding while her mind registered it after a few seconds. She had seen him before. It was he who trailed them first and battled Althan.

“Yeriel, don’t worry,” Althan said as he walked next to her. He showed the chains bound in his arms as if telling them to unchain it, but seeing they were not compiling, he just snorted.

“Karol,” the dark-cloaked man commanded, “Bring them.”

The other dark cloaked figure next to them nodded, as he pushed the two captives from behind.

The door was closed again after they left. Outside, Yeriel found two more guards, a scrawny red-faced man, and the other was a burly one; both standing tall, towering over with their weapons ready. They had helms on their heads, thick armour on their bodies, and appeared would charge at the battle with just a mention of it. They only gazed at her for a second as she looked away.

“Doug, Pitt,” the dark-cloaked figure said at the two guards. “Be prepared for anything. We’re at the final moment. Any errors here will gain dire consequences, and you two should be aware that your master is not a benevolent man.”

Both the guards, Doug and Pitt, shook a little, while Pitt was the first to acknowledge. “Yes, Sir Rial,” he said.

The dark cloaked figure nodded at Pitt and looked at Doug, who followed in acknowledgement, though his voice was stiffer, perhaps of the cold and fear of anything going wrong. “Yes, Sir Rial.”

‘Sir Rial?’ Yeriel wondered, ‘is this person a knight? That would explain why everyone was so obedient to his orders, but why he’s working for the dark sorcerer?’ That was another question she might never get an answer to.

“Good,” Sir Rial said, not just at their words, but at their body language too.

Even though those two were towering over her with their tall stature, she could feel the uneasiness in their eyes, the fear. The consequences of failure might not be anything better than her future.

Yeriel felt another push against her back. It was abrupt and with the side effect of the agonising severing pain remaining; she fell to the ground, yelping.

“Wretched girl,” the other warder shouted. If she was not wrong, his name was Karol. He pulled her by the hair, smacking her head as she groaned.

“Hey?” Althan shouted in protest, but only got a glare from Karol, who made her stand up, pulling by the hair.

Sir Rial arched his eyebrows at Karol, but didn’t say anything, only gestured to follow.

Karol followed, pushing them again as they moved towards where the warlock staying.

. . .

Noyar watched the rogue practitioner leave, bringing two kids along with them. She felt a terrible impulse to start her task now, but she brought it down. No, she couldn’t do that, not now.

She was currently dressed as one of the warders, impersonating—Doug—the one she captured a couple of hours ago. While the helm hid much of her appearance, Shailyn's facial altering illusions were nothing exceptional. She had to improvise with a pale red face, with the excuse that she fell headfirst.

Luckily, her current partner, the big burly man Pitt, didn’t like to talk all that much, providing her with fewer chances of giving away her identity.

Her infiltration went well. She guarded the last two hours outside in the cold, doing what the original Doug was supposed to do. After Doug’s quota on outside duty finished, someone else took his place, and she was here for the last half an hour. Finally got to see what she was here for. Any mistake from here would not only hurt her direly, but also these kids would be at the worst end of the repercussions.

So, she remained calm watching the rogue knight and warder taking two of the kids. She heard them talk from outside with her keen senses, and had no problem recognising Yeriel, even though she barely saw her yesterday.

But what worried her more was what they intended to do with her. Oscar had told them everything he could make out of the situation, even though some of his implication was vague, but it was pretty clear that the warlock would try something with Yeriel—perhaps as a sacrifice.

And there was that prince from the House of Kimber. If anything goes wrong with him, they would have listened to a lot of questioning with heavy scrutiny.

Noyar had to wait a little longer, a bit longer, for the Warlock to leave with his men in search of Winterheart Reindeer. Only then she would have a chance to free the others and getaway.

She was in charge of rescuing the kids, while Shialyn would assault the other, rejoining with the other two Knights. That was their plan. All she hopes, everything goes well. Too many things have gone wrong already.

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