Chapter 013

  As soon as his uncle’s heavy footsteps faded in the corridor, and the distant echo of his grumbling finally died away, Aria stood and walked unhurriedly around the table, stopping right beside her son.

  “I will miss you, Bel.” Aria placed a hand on his shoulder. Something he rarely saw flashed in her green eyes. “Darian is abrasive, but... he is better than I am. Soak up his every word. Only he can teach you true control over your Aura.”

  Belmond blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded, feeling the unspoken weight of those words. He always strove to meet her expectations.

  “I have a gift for you,” she added after a moment. She turned and left the dining hall with a springy step, leaving behind only the subtle scent of blue azurians. The moment she disappeared through the door, a chair scraped on the other side of the table. Ethan approached his son.

  “Since your mother has gone to fetch her gift, I have something for you as well. Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

  Belmond obeyed. He felt the chill of metal on his open palm and heard a quiet clink.

  “You may open them.”

  He saw two keys. A steel one for the study... and the other—heavy, brass, with a bow shaped like a wide-open eye. The key to the workshop. The forbidden one.

  “Father... I cannot accept this. You never allowed me to enter there.”

  “You are our only son. When we are gone, only you have the right to enter. The workshop will be safe... in your hands. And on the desk in the study, I have left all the notes concerning Hardin. Look through them when Darian gives you a moment to breathe.”

  “I will, Father.”

  The creak of the door heralded Aria’s return. In her hands, she carried a wooden box, its lid covered in deep, intricate carvings. Belmond immediately recognised dwarven handiwork—austere, yet incredibly precise, betraying the hand of a master.

  His mother smiled broadly, set the casket on the tabletop, then took a step back and gestured toward it.

  “Please, open it, Bel.”

  Ethan stepped back slightly, taking his place at his wife’s side. The boy approached the table, feeling a pleasant thrill of curiosity, and cautiously lifted the lid. Inside lay a pair of massive, dark-brown leather gloves. Metal plates on the knuckles gleamed coldly.

  “Are these... for me?” he asked doubtfully, looking up at her.

  Aria nodded, encouragement shining in her eyes.

  “They are... too big,” he muttered, slipping his hands inside. His fingers drowned in the excess material. The gloves looked as if he had borrowed them from his bear-like Uncle Darian, rather than receiving them as his own.

  Aria stepped closer, watching him with tenderness.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “They were crafted from Zurtak leather, which can shrink and grow under the influence of Aurana,” she explained. “Close your eyes and channel your Aura into your hands.”

  Belmond obeyed. The Nodus in his chest pulsed. The gloves suddenly seemed to come alive. He opened his eyes and watched in amazement as the thick material rapidly shrank until it fit his hands perfectly. Delighted, he clenched his hands into fists several times. Pure joy flooded his mind, breaking his concentration. His Aura surged wildly, and the gloves instantly reverted to their original size.

  Aria laughed heartily at the sight of his helpless expression.

  “You must work on your Aura control, Bel,” she threw out with amusement, before her tone turned serious. “Those metal reinforcements on the knuckles... they were forged from the remnants of my Artifact.”

  “That black shield?” the boy asked.

  “Yes.” Aria rubbed her left forearm, right where a raised, snake-like scar hid beneath the fabric.

  Seeing his wife returning in her memories to that painful day, Ethan decided to break the silence.

  “The gloves are no longer a fully-fledged Artifact; they do not possess the former abilities of Aria’s shield. They are closer to a Feryte weapon now,” he added, studying the metal plates with an analytical eye.

  “So I have a weapon just like the Hunters?!” the boy exclaimed, not hiding his sudden enthusiasm.

  His father nodded slowly and continued.

  “I have not had the time to examine them thoroughly, but I am certain that a trace amount of the ancient Energy, and the properties hidden within it, still smoulders in the Auranite alloy. Your uncle will help you unlock their full potential. Darian is best suited to teach you how to use them.”

  “Why Uncle, specifically?” Belmond wondered.

  “Because House Vesperon possessed three such shields,” Ethan explained calmly. “Your mother’s Artifact was destroyed, but Uncle Darian still carries his with him. The third is in the hands of their eldest brother, Beorionn, the current head of the House.”

  “Ethan, it is time,” Aria reminded him gently, shifting her gaze to her husband. “We still need to change, and Belmond is still in his nightclothes.”

  Prompted by those words, the boy grabbed the wooden box and ran to his chamber, ahead of his parents. He quickly set the gift on his bed. He pulled the thin linen shirt over his head and reflexively donned his rough, grey training gambeson. As soon as he was ready, he went out into the courtyard. Jareth was already waiting beside the saddled mounts, stroking their muzzles soothingly. Ethan’s light-grey gelding and Aria’s bay mare snorted impatiently, their hooves striking a rhythmic beat against the hard cobblestones. A short distance away, Uncle Darian silently stroked the neck of his massive black stallion, checking the girth straps before the impending journey. A moment later, the heavy oak doors opened with a dull creak. Aria and Ethan stood on the threshold, clad in sturdy travelling cloaks in shades of deep green. They descended the stairs, their hobnailed boots clacking steadily against the cobbles as they walked toward him.

  Aria hugged her son tightly, then pulled back slightly and affectionately stroked his cheek.

  “I love you, Bel. Take care of yourself,” she whispered with emotion.

  Ethan stood right beside her. He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, smiled reassuringly, and ruffled his hair with his customary, fatherly gesture.

  “Look after the house, son.” His father’s voice was composed, though a hidden tension could be felt within it. “Uncle Darian will return to you shortly.”

  His parents turned and joined Darian, who waited in silence. All three expertly mounted their steeds, which finally ceased their restless pawing at the ground.

  “Look out for us soon!” Ethan called out with a smile, looking down at his son from the back of the light-grey gelding.

  “And when we return, Bel, I shall personally test what Uncle Darian has managed to teach you!” Aria added, a note of challenge in her voice.

  The boy straightened reflexively, a genuine, confident smile blooming on his face.

  “Safe travels!” he shouted back in a carrying voice.

  The riders spurred their mounts and galloped toward the gates. Iron-shod hooves thundered loudly against the hard cobbles of the courtyard, the echo of their rhythmic clatter bouncing off the estate walls. Belmond, standing motionless beside Jareth, followed them with his eyes. He watched the riders turn right, their silhouettes finally vanishing behind the wall. He took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he was being left without their protection for so long.

  The sun was slowly dipping toward the west, blanketing the courtyard in ever-lengthening shadows. Belmond still sat on the low stone wall, staring at the road winding into the distance. In his mind, he followed his parents, wondering how far they had ridden by now. He also pondered why Uncle Darian had not returned to the estate before dinner. The afternoon was inexorably drawing to a close, and the silhouette of a lone rider had yet to appear on the horizon.