Children of Nux Raphael (full story) (comments very welcome)

[Silver Nephilim]

U evolia abba
Erol legne co e in
Hashahnona Raphael

Chapter 1

"Gunther," called the knight. The page looked up from grooming the man's horse. He gave Zephyr a last pat before turning.

Leonard looked at him. The man was one of the tall knights one could see riding down the Royal Highway often. His black hair was greasy and slicked back from his face and his beard curling. He wore the finest of red tunics, the blackest of breeches and boots, and a golden ring bearing his king's sign.

Gunther was small for his age, thirteen. His brown hair hung in his face, partially obscuring his cobalt eyes.

While Leonard's clothing was of the finest quality, the page's was little more than rags hanging from his pitifully thin frame. His tunic was of fading black material, appearing gray. His jerkin was a simple peasant's one, brown outside and in. His pants, torn at the ankles, of a dirty cream color hung low on his protruding hips. His shoes were small, barely reaching above his ankles, and of worn brown leather.

"Where were you last night?" Gunther averted his eyes from his master's. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"At the inn, Sir Leonard."

"Why were you there?" The man paced around the boy, drawing his sword. One of his many contacts at the inn had told him of the boy's arrival. The page had stayed in the comfort of a warm bed with food in his belly that night. He had explicitly told the boy the other night that he was to deliver the message to Sir Olaf and return to their camp. The fool had never returned.

"I... I was d-delivering your message." Gunther bowed his head. "I waited for him, but he never came. It was so cold...and I..."

"You disobeyed me," finished the man. Gunther closed his eyes. He soon felt the flat of the sword against his back. After twenty lashes and cries, Leonard stopped. "Go. Take Zephyr and deliver the message."

The boy nodded, saddling the white horse and riding through branch and thorn to the nearby village where Olaf was staying. The forest was clogged with the last autumn's leaf mold. The sodden ground, on its way to becoming a bog, held many pools of water that had helped wear jagged ridges from the rock hidden beneath the covering of mush. The oaks, pines, and a few beeches were dotted around the glades along with the strange okoka trees. Although it sounded as if it were a nut producing tree, the okoka bore fruit and were the home of the other curiosity that ranged through the kingdom: a lizard with skunk like stripes that passersby usually gave a wide berth.

Moving out of the wood, the page came to a well-traveled dirt track. Ahead lay the village, Ania, which was more of a jumble of peasant shacks made small and of oak surrounding the surprisingly large square where the inn was located. Gunther stopped as he came to the inn, handed the parchment over to Sir Olaf's page, who gazed up at him pityingly and nodded before returning inside, and rode back toward camp.  

[Silver Nephilim]

Chapter 2

Gunther reined in Zephyr sharply. He was in the thick of the forest, so the sight he had found was an oddity indeed. A black horse stood alone atop a small, rocky ridge. It was saddled, but without a rider. The page dismounted with Zephyr’s reins in one hand and dagger in the other.

The black horse looked at him, its brown eyes wide. Gunther looked over the edge of the ridge. A warrior lay still at the bottom in a pool of muddy, leaf covered water.

The boy turned, sheathing his dagger and sliding down to the man.

He cut his hands upon the jagged rock, wincing but not acknowledging the pain. Dropping down the last few feet, he knelt beside the warrior. The man was dressed strangely, though the youth took no notice of this. At the moment, his foremost thought was the health of the man before him.

“Sir?” Gunther turned the man over. His dark brown hair contrasted with his pale face sharply, as did the small lump above his eye. A wound from a sling stone, already somewhat healed.

The man stirred at the page’s call. His gray blue eyes locked upon the lad dazedly. The boy shuddered slightly. He had never seen such eyes. They were beautiful, truly. “Are you all right? Who are you?” asked Gunther.

The nameless one gripped the hilt of his sword upon fully awakening.
“My name is of no consequence.” He sat. “What do you wish of me, boy?”

“My name is Gunther,” said the boy. “I am a page of Sir Leonard the Red. I was going back to him when I saw your horse and found you.”

“My horse? Oh. There you are, Argo!” Gunther stiffened as the black horse sniffed his hair. “Gunther, you said?”

“Yes, sir,” said the thirteen-year-old humbly.

“It grows dark as we speak. Stay with me for the night.” At this, the page refused gently, but the man merely said, “I won’t have you lost in these woods to come to injury.” It was the end of the discussion.  

[Silver Nephilim]

Chapter 4

Am I flying? Gunther stirred, awaking to the sound of horses’ hooves. He blinked. He felt a horse’s mane brush his fingers. Zephyr?

The boy gave a start when he realized his mistake. Argo looked back at him, snorting.

“Good morning.” He gave yet another frightful start to hear the greeting.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Raphael grinned. There was the culprit. Gunther returned the greeting lamely. Why had he not woken sooner? The misty dawn greeted his eyes as it peeked through the trees. He usually awoke before the sun's first rays.

Gunther looked about. Zephyr’s reins were tied to Argo’s saddle. The white horse acknowledged the boy with a flick of her head. Raphael’s arm, still around his waist, had prevented him from falling off in his sleep.

“I have to go,” said the boy worriedly. Raphael nodded calmly. Gunther squirmed and was rewarded with his release. He untied and mounted Zephyr with reins in hand. He waved a farewell. As he turned to leave the man spoke.

“He doesn’t care for you, Gunther,” he said quietly. “Why do you need to return?” The page sighed.

“I am his servant,” whispered Gunther. “I must go back…for my honor.”

He heard the man’s call, echoing through the trees after him as he galloped away: “Honor means nothing if you’re dead!”