The Warden

Chapter 9

Masis ached. Every last bit of him throbbed. From his hair and teeth to his fingernails and the soles of his feet, his body protested with a dull, persistent burn. The sensation penetrated beyond the physical, the effort of producing thought even lanced within Masis' mind. Pain dominated his existence. Masis craved for the great black nothingness of his under mind to swallow him up again. Oblivion sounded like sweet release.

Then hands began to shake him, gently at first then more urgently.

He groaned. Even this supposedly benign action felt like whips.

Masis cracked his eyelids allowing shafts of sunlight to spear his pupils. He squeezed them shut. His stomach lurched, ready to heave its contents if any more waves of pain upset it.

"Masis?! Masis?!" Calla's distressed voice kept repeating his name over and over.

As he began to stir, it faltered, but her hands remained on him.

He curled and crawled his way onto his hands and knees, immediately regretting his choice as his stomach again spasmed within him. Even his cheek that had been pressed into the rugs fibers now stung, relieved only slightly as Masis rubbed it.

Calla's gentle hands steadied his body, resting on his back and shoulder. "Masis, what happened?"

Last night? Masis pushed the query into his mind. Last night!

It hit him. The sequence burst on him.

Humphrey. Night Wights. His Father. Mother. Sisters.

Dead.

Somehow the memory surfaced like a night terror, the edges mottled like a fever's fabrication.

He covered his head with his hands, pulling his chin to his chest. It couldn't be real. It couldn't.

He dared peek out.

There they were. Every person he loved in the world piled like kindling. Dead.

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No! NO!

He began to tremble. Trembling gave way to shaking as the sobs burst from him. Each vomited out of him, his body all too eager to expel the grief.

"Shhh! Masis, I'm here," whispered Calla, pulling him closer to her. "Calla's got you. I'm here."

He buried his face into her lap, muffling his cries into her skirt. His tears ran into her apron.

"What happened Masis?" she asked. "Who did this?"

The question stilled his weeping into shuddering breaths. "Night wights."

An audible gasp escaped many mouths behind him. There were more people than Calla and himself in the room.

"How many are in the room?" asked Masis, whispering.

"Quite a few of the staff and your fath...the steward."

The steward, Masis thought. My steward, now.

The idea threatened to unleash more tears. He fought them back. Pulling slightly away from Calla, Masis' hands came to his face, drying his eyes and brushing away tears. Hands still composing his face, he stood and moved toward the largest window opposite the door, his back kept to the those present. His eyes adjusted to the sun's light as his hands fell away, letting him survey the picture framed within the window's limits. Not a single cloud marred the sky's face.

How ironic, thought Masis, clenching his jaw as his eyes remained on the clear sky.

Sniffs, coughs, and more face rubbing followed before any words came. He didn't trust his voice. When words finally did come, they were subdued and brittle.