He didn't truly wake because he didn't really sleep, Damian found it hard to do so, around so many others that weren't his brothers in arms. So he laid awake for most of the night, drifting into sleep for no more than ten to twenty minutes at a time.
He decided to get up right as the sun started to crest, the dawn now oppressing those beneath its light. Watching the great ball of fire rise as he munched on chewy dried bread, it crumbled like dirt in his mouth, and tasted the same too.
"Pardon me." A voice from behind, he swung around to his feet clutching the handle of his dagger. A human man stood a few feet away, his hands raised with a smile, the sun caressing his face. "Easy my friend, I mean you no harm."
The man was likely his age, early thirties or so. Sharp features with short blonde hair, clean shaven. He wore white and blue robes, a symbol of an open tome with an ink and quill down the front.
"What does a priest of The Lord of Letters want with me? I don't think your God would want you associating with a killer like me." The priest lowered his hands clasping them together. "Perhaps, however that will be my sin to atone for."
Damian removed his hand from the dagger, the priest approached slowly looking towards the sunrise. "I always appreciate sights like these, it's beautiful isn't it." The priest looked towards him. "I suppose, you haven't answered my question, priest." The man nodded. "Forgive me. I saw you and your friend sparing last night, she seemed quite new to swordplay. You're a good teacher, I like to praise such things."
Damian snickered. "I didn't think your God appreciated violence of any caliber." The priest chuckled. "I like to think The Lord of Letters appreciates all learning done in good faith, as you were acting. My name is John. . ." He gestured to himself. "And as you can see I'm an acolyte of Our Lord of Letters." He eyed the priest. "Damian, and since you've done your praising what other business do you have speaking with me?"
John smiled, a slight sigh escaped him. "I take it you aren't fond of the Gods, but I assure you I mean no harm to you Damian." Damian's gaze intensified, a burning spotlight to route out any malice lurking beneath his smiling face. Yet he found none.
"I suppose I should be the one asking for forgiveness now." John shook his head. "It's quite alright, are you heading to the border?" He asked, Damian nodded. "As it happens, so am I. I'm traveling to the capital, Unkerbrock. If you'd like I have a wagon and donkey, you and your companion are welcome to join me." Damian thought about it, thought about declining. "I'd appreciate that, thank you."
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The wagon shook and rocked even along the paved roads of the Empire, Damian and Elise sat across from one another well John drove. Elise had her arms crossed the entire time, refusing to allow any eye contact between her and Damian. And though she wouldn't confess to such a thing, she was pouting. Mostly for the fact that Damian was supposed to be carrying her as pence, she wanted him to carry her.
Damian wasn't oblivious to her sulking, he wasn't sure the exact reason however, but with an idea brewing he turned to the priest. "John, may I ask something." Without looking back he replied, an underline of excitement in his words. "Of course, I love questions."
"What would be your response if I told you Elise here managed to learn High Faelic in just under a month." Elise looked to Damian, John to Elise. "My that is extremely impressive young lady, do such things come easy to you?" He asked nearly out of his seat, Elise looked to him, her sour mood slowly starting to fade. "I suppose so."
John turned back in his seat and chuckled. "The Lord of Letters has seen fit to bless you, tell me Miss Elise what interests you?" Elise pushed herself up and off her tailbone, her outstretched leg now resting on top of Damian's. When he looked at her, she stuck out her tongue. "I suppose many things do. . ." She trailed off, thinking intently on how to answer him. "Magic, I've heard and read about it, but I want to see it with my own eyes."
The two men laughed, Elise unsure if they were mocking her. "Forgive me for my prejudice but I don't find that surprising, considering your lineage." John said, turning back again. "Well why's that?" Elise asked in response. "It's because High Elves are typically drawn to magic, many of them become mages." Damian said adjusting his leg that Elise felt so inclined to use as a rest. "Ah I see you're familiar with High Elves Damian, have you met one before despite their scarcity." He nodded, Elise swore she saw more in his eyes. "Well Miss Elise, if you'd like to learn about magic I'd be happy to teach you what I know. The Lord of Letters has led me to you, and I believe you worthy to receive his gifts."
Elise shuffled over closer to the priest. "When can we start?" She asked, eyes wide and full of passion. "I suppose we may start now, you know how to read and write yes?" He asked, she nodded vigorously. "In that trunk there's empty notebooks and charcoal pencils, go ahead and grab one and we'll get started." Elise dove into the chest fishing out her materials, she only slowed as her leg came off Damian's and smacked into the wagon. She ignored the pain and readied herself, as John started speaking Damian closed his eyes and tried to drown out their voices.
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It was after dark when they finished setting up camp just off the road, John had gone out of earshot to say his nightly prayers. Damian had tasked Elise with getting a fire going, and she struggled with the flint and steel cursing and growling as the sparks refused to catch.
"This stupid fucking thing." The steel grinded against the flint, nothing. A laugh echoed, not from any person but from Fred, the donkey. Elise shot up looking at the creature, it snorted well, flapping its lips at her in mockery. "I gave you half of my apple and you laugh at me, you little demonic thing you!"
Footsteps approached. "You shouldn't joke about creatures of the hells, you make demons if you do." John said as he sat next to them, his hands approached her wounded ankle. "May I?" Elise tilted her head, but nodded trusting him. John lifted her sprained foot to his lap, clutching prayer beads of Lore, The Lord of Letters. Words of the divine script fell from his lips, a golden glow from his fingers caressed her swollen flesh. Elise felt as if she dipped into a hot spring, or held within the arms of parents she never knew. The pain faded, she was submerged in this light, alleviated from all that burdened her.
"So you're a cleric, not just a priest." Damian said as Elise climbed to her feet, her left foot stomped into the soft grass below. "That was divine magic, how beautiful." The words escaped her, awe struck she smiled. "One may only receive the blessing of The Lord of Letters when one has earned them, you Miss Elise have earned them this day." Elise sat back down, her smile contagious as it affected the cleric as well.
"Since we're casting spells." Damian focused, his finger raised. He visualized it, his will manifesting into a burning crimson to protect his allies from the sundering cold. It appeared, a flame given life from his will to make it so.
Her jaw hung open as he flicked the flame towards the pit, catching instantly as the fire now warmed them. "Both of you. . . Both of you can use magic. . . And neither of you mentioned it earlier." The men couldn't tell if she was more overjoyed or annoyed by this discovery. "This simply can't stand, Damian teach me magic, now!" She pounced, her hands like petty vices gripping his shoulders. She shook him, throttled him till he was dizzy. John couldn't contain himself, he broke into laughter well Damian pushed the feral thing away.
"By the Lady quit fucking shaking me you demon!" She was repelled, sitting back ready to strike at the first refusal. "As I told Miss Elise, Damian. You shouldn't joke about creatures of the hells. . ." Damian interrupted him. "Yes, yes. You make demons doing that, trust me I'm aware. However I've made many demons in my time John, and as you said earlier, those are my sins to atone for."
John stayed silent, he nodded to him. Elise, a bit calmer now but still eager to learn, she lowered her head with her eyes up waiting for Damian to continue. Her eyes were wide and she was on the verge of begging him. "Go get your notebook." She jumped up and ran to the cart, giggling as she did. He took a deep breath before she returned, she sat on her knees facing him ready for whatever sort of lesson he had brewing.
"So I'm what you call Spellblade, a combat caster. I'm limited to only offensive spells that deal direct damage or protection magic to shield against incoming attacks."
Elise scribbled in her notebook, writing faster than he could. "My magic is arcane, do you recall what that means?" He asked, she looked up and blurted out. "Yes, it means you force our reality to abide by your will. Manifesting your willpower into reality, causing it to become materialized into our world. Arcane magic is from our willpower and souls, well divine magic is from the gods, that's the key difference between them."
Damian could have sworn she rehearsed before this. "You were paying attention it seems, very good, that's correct. And because it's arcane that means how the caster is feeling can affect the spell, which means during combat my magic can be amplified due to the stress. The opposite can happen as well, it's harder to cast spells if I don't truly will it."
She continued to write and jot notes, she stopped for a moment to ask a question. "You said you can only cast certain types of spells, does that mean you can't learn other types of magic like wizards can?"
"Well I could try, it'd be rather difficult and maybe even impossible. Once you learn to cast in a particular way, it's hard to unlearn it. Magic is a fickle thing, once you take a step in one path it's nearly impossible to go back." Elise was satisfied with that answer, and despite him wanting to end for the night she kept him talking for at least another hour.
But he did manage to get her to stop, or rather telling her that was enough for one night. The camp slept, everyone except Damian. The fire had mostly died, some embers clinging to life gave faint illumination. He wasn't sure how long it had been now, perhaps an hour or two of listening to the wind.
He sat up and looked across the open fields of tall grass, watching it sway with the breeze. His eyes however couldn't quite determine what he was seeing, something about the grass was off. He stood, picking up his blade in its scabbard.
"Show yourself." Damian called, everything was silent until five shadows emerged from the grass. His grip tightened around the handle of his blade, these five men stood roughly thirty feet to his east. One stepped forward, a short spear in hand. "Hello my friend, sorry to disturb you so late." His voice, Damian couldn't stand it, venom leaked from his words.
"However I need you to hand over your coins and goods, and I'm gonna have to ask you to do it now." He couldn't quite make out the man's face in the dark, not even if he had any sort of armour. "What about the girl, we should take her too." The voice came from the far right, the thing speaking was tall and fat, a club was held in its sausage fingers.
Before anyone had the chance Damian spoke, his voice loud, but low like a growl. "Trust me, you don't want this. Turn back and go home, you won't be warned again." The words carried across the open fields, the two archers on the left already putting tension on their bow strings.
"Damian. . ." Johns voice. He dared not turn his head as an arrow travelled through the wind, Damian didn't have to turn to know what happened, he recognized the sound of a man dying. "Kill him!" Their leader called, Damian drew his sword.
Dashing forward an arrow flew past, he tossed his scabbard behind him. The fat one approached first, running towards him, each step shook the ground. Damian gripped his dagger with his off hand, it took off from its sheath and into the air. It dropped him, a heavy thud signaled his end.
"Damian!" Her voice sent a chill up his spine, he jumped back turning towards her. Arrows then flew, his arm flicked to the sky commanding reality. The arrow targeting her bounced, a protective red hue shielded the girl. Damian however felt the sting, the broadhead only cut his back in his narrow dodge.
"Elise run!" He screamed aloud, ire in his eyes as he turned back. None dared to approach him alone, a fire burning in his eyes as hatred poured from his being. Something inside him pounded against the bars of its cage, wanting to come out and play.
"You'll die screaming for this!" The words left his mouth, without thinking a raging flame made of hatred burned between his fist, well a crackling crimson pulse igniting his blade with arcane energy.
He was quick, too quick for them. His fist swung, an orb of fire and rock hurled towards the closest archer. The light bright enough he could see their faces as they trembled, he could see their fear.
It impacted, an explosion rocked the man as shards of jagged stone flew in all directions. The other bandits jumped for cover well Damian stood his ground, his target now missing a large portion of his chest. The corpse was burning, it died too quickly for his liking.
"Gods help us! Fucking run!" The other archer cried scurrying to his feet, Damian's attention focusing now before it could go farther. "Rend." His favorite spell, the word appeared in his mind and his instincts did the rest. His sword swung, the crackling energy formed into an arc through the air. It cut sharper than any blade could, and now he had no more legs to run with.
"He's the fucking Nightbringer, he has to be!" It wasn't the leader that cried, his other goon. Damian had hardly noticed him, a small frame holding a small knife. "Shut it and ready yourself, we must fight or we're dead."
"No." The words left his lips, he licked the air, he could taste their terror. "No running, no fighting. Only death." The beast was prying at the bars, Damian could feel it, that thing inside wanting to come out. He shouldn't, he wasn't going to let it take him here, but the thought of it brought him ecstasy.
Damian ran forwards, he didn't want to use anymore spells nor did he have too. Their leader came to challenge him, as foolish as it was, he had no other option. He came in with three quick strikes, his spear keeping distance between them. Damian was quick to dodge, only parrying the last attack. He followed it up with strikes of his own, his sword landing small cuts with each slash and thrust.
The bandit jumped back, a quick turn for help was his end. Damian lunged grabbing hold of his spear, the bandit raised his hand to block. The sword thrust through it and into his heart, one swift strike and his life ended.
"No please, please don't I'm sorry I'm sorry." Damian freed his blade, the corpse fell and stopped with an intoxicating stillness. He stalked forward well the last bandit backed away, the man tripped dropping his knife into the soil. The thing crawled away, begging and pleading, asking for mercy. "Come here." Damian's voice was calm now, the bandit wanted to listen but couldn't, his body refused it.
Damian closed the distance, grabbing hold of him as he tried to squirm away. "Look look look, look at me." Damian whispered, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. The man turned to face him, Damian could feel his heart thumping. "I want to watch." His blade dragged across his throat, a swift motion that ended with a slick rend of flesh.
His blood flowed so perfectly, the thing inside watching as a life faded away. That twinkle of the eyes, that light, extinguished. The last of the blood flowed onto the ground, the green grass stained red, oh how sweet it was.
Damian stood and walked back towards camp. "Never again." He whispered, his eyes held shut. "Never again will harm come to them."
His beating heart nearly deafened him, each thump reminded him he was still alive. He breathed, and exhaled. Trying to get it under control, it refused to yield. "Elise, Elise it's safe now."
He wasn't sure if he believed it or not, his whole body was covered in blood, his enemy's life essence sticking to his skin. It was uncomfortably warm, and the smell of iron, how it reeked. "Elise please, where are you."
His heart slowed, that thrum deafened him no more. He could see her now, crying but alive. She hid in the ditch of the road, and she ran towards him as he stumbled on wards. She collided against him, her arms grasped his shirt and pulled, the material ripping.
Though she retched, turning away as her dinner now fed the plants. Puking, spitting and coughing. All of it before she turned to face him.
"It's not my blood, I think." He examined himself, despite the cut to his back he was uninjured. "Are you hurt?" A fist covered her mouth, she nodded. "Then come." He turned, blood dripped from his sword.
They stood before the devastation, Elise grasped her stomach but held whatever contents it had left. "You should take a good look, this is what the world is like." She swallowed, her eyes taking in the mess of bodies. "But why, why this. . . It doesn't make sense." He turned to face her, raising his blade slicked with blood. "It doesn't, that's just it. Senseless violence, and a good man died for nothing. Our civilized ways don't matter much, when life can be so easily taken." His blade lowered, knowing what he must do.
"Go wait by the road, I'll take care of this." He walked forward, Elise reached out grabbing his shirt. "Let me help, it's the least. . ." He stopped her, not with words but a look that said more than he ever could.
"No. You've seen enough for one night, go now and wait." Her head lowered, her grasp lost strength and her arm fell to her side. She did what he asked, leaving him to it. She sat facing away from it all, feeling an emptiness grip her being. She had lost something, a part of her. Sorrow filled that void, more droplets slid from her cheeks. She waited there, crying in the darkness.