“Are you awake?”

“Come on brother, wake up.”

Kyle fluttered his eyelids until he could keep them open. His body felt stiff and sore against the hard wooden floor and his neck throbbed.

“What happened to you?” Gerrard lowered to one knee.

Kyle groaned, staring into Gerrard’s stern expression. “Merciful mother,” he whispered. With his stiff, hard-lined features, Kyle always thought he looked more like a statue; a boring, lifeless piece of rock.

Gerrard bent to one knee. “Kyle, can you hear me?”

He reached to massage his neck, took a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to drain the stiffness from his body. He hated even the slightest pain. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“What happened to you?”

The sudden recollection of the beast’s scream sent his heart racing. “Gnath,” the name just came to him.

“Who?”

Kyle tried to recall what had happened, but could only remember the creature thumping at his door. “Some horrific beast broke down the door…”

“And attacked you?”

“I think so, but I don’t remember it.”

“Who is Gnath?”

Kyle shrugged and then grimaced as the throbbing in his neck peaked from the movement. “The name just came into my mind.”

Gerrard stood. “Did the creature speak?”

“I remember only that it growled.” Kyle searched his memory. “Oh and it had horrible breath, more fowl than your own.”

Gerrard scoffed. “What about its appearance?”

Kyle strained to remember, but only the sound of its growl and stench of its breath could he recall. “I – I honestly cannot remember.”

Gerrard shook his head. “Had you been drinking?”

“When have I not been? But that is not the reason for my failed memory. I had merely half a bottle of Grigamont’s swill; barely enough to moisten my sorrows.”

“Regardless, even a small amount will distort your view.”

“Exactly why I love it so.”

Gerrard turned and stepped toward the door. He quickly turned back and stomped his heel. “I did not come here to listen to your foolishness. You must get yourself ready and return to Crisla with me.”

“What? I can’t even stand, let alone ride.” Kyle grimaced at a fake pain in his leg to emphasize the point.

“You were not the only one attacked last night. Lounder is missing --”

“Missing?”

“Yes, his lab is in shambles and splattered with blood.”

“You think whatever attacked me, attacked him also?”

“I do not know, but Lounder left a note for you which is why you must return with me.”

Kyle suddenly noticed the official red and green silk robe flowing over Gerrard’s studded leather armor; the golden eagle embroidered on the shoulder seemed to demand his attention. “Why are you dressed that way?”

“This is considered official business of the King.”

“Why? And what is this note that Lounder left for me?”

“I do not question the monarch,” Gerrard said, lightly slapping his riding gloves against his palm. “And you will need to read the note in order to find out what it is about. Now get up and get dressed so we can return.”

Kyle moaned, closed his eyes and wondered what Lounder could have possibly wanted. The sudden sting of leather across his cheek jolted his eyes open and his body stiffened. He brought a hand up to massage his tingling face as he watched his brother return to a standing position. “What is wrong with you?”

“As I said, you were not the only one who had an encounter last night. All of Lounder’s previous students were visited and none were seriously injured. Each complained of a little stiffness, especially in the neck, but none of them can remember any details.”

Kyle pulled himself to a sitting position and then prodded the back of his neck. It was a little tender, but otherwise seemed normal. “Did he leave notes for everyone?”

“No, only you, which is why you must return with me now.” Gerrard tapped his heel on the stone floor, turned and headed for the door. “And comb that rat’s nest on your head.” He ran a hand over his own bald scalp. “Better yet, shave it off. Who knows what’s living in there.”

Kyle ruffled his long black hair with both hands, leaving strands sprouting in all directions. “How’s that?” he asked with a sneer.

Gerrard exited without looking back.

Kyle wondered who would have attacked Lounder. He tried to picture the seemingly ageless magician. He smiled, remembering how Lounder wore only dark blue robes in public, thinking the contrast with his pale skin and white hair made him look mysterious. It had been so many years since Kyle had seen him, the memories seemed fuzzy, almost unreal.

Kyle pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the wardrobe. The chipped and scratched wooden doors whined as he pulled them open. A musty smell wafted out, and he waved a hand in front of his wrinkled nose.

He scanned the collection of robes. Not seeing the one he wanted, he crouched and haphazardly shuffled through the pile on the floor.

A metallic glint stopped him. He took a moment to focus and then pulled a silver trimmed, midnight blue robe from the pile; his graduation present from Lounder. His thoughts flew back to the long days in Lounder’s yard, practicing the art of magic. He sighed, thinking of the endless battery of tests that could only be passed with perfection.

He bowed his head, knowing his skills had faded since graduation. He wanted to destroy the garment, to burn it and destroy his guilt with it. Lounder worked harder on him than any of the other students and now he had let it slip away.

“Come on, brother, let’s go!” Gerrard shouted.

Kyle shivered. Nothing about this made sense and his brother’s urgency made it even more curious. He pushed the robe to the bottom and grabbed one of the many solid black ones, its only decoration a stylish K embroidered with gold thread on the collar. After throwing on a padded tunic, heavy cloth pants, and leather boots he donned the robe.

“Let’s go,” Gerrard shouted again.

Kyle grabbed his riding gloves and hustled out of his one room house. “Proceed,” he said, gesturing past his brother.