The Lesson pt 7 by Diron Bates

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"Wait!" Jeremy said suddenly, innocently. Dantrel paused. "How about we give this to the master?" Dantrel turned as he heard someone, or something whisper. He whirled in time to see the small blade swinging towards his neck, just in time to meet his demise. He briefly wondered how he had been deceived as his head rolled from his shoulders and onto the ground. As his vision faded he saw his body fall at the boys feet. He would never again underestimate the boy, never! The next time would be different. The master would not be pleased, he used his last remaining moments to hastily formulate his report, and then his soul was whisked away to meet him.




Jeremy's mother dropped to the ground and burst into coughing fits after Dantrel released her. His head had fallen from his body with a questioning look upon its face, his eyes settling on Jeremy before the glaze of death swam over them. She knew that Dantrel had burned the boy's image into his memory, and she also knew that this was not the last that they would see of him.
Her throat felt as if she had swallowed a hundred glass shards and she longed for a cup of iced water. Dantrel was powerful, and she realized that she was getting old. Jeremy rushed to his mother's side and for the first time tonight helped her onto her feet.
"You told me not to trust anything that I hear." He said shakily.
She dropped her sword and embraced him. The boy hugged her tightly; ignoring the blood that had began to congeal upon her shirt and skin. He longed for nothing more then his mothers touch. How could she ever believe her son would betray her?
This was the first life that he had ever taken, though tainted, she knew that Jeremy would be haunted by the look in Dantrel's eyes before he fell. But, he would recover, she was positive of that. Daunting as ever is the fact that human beings can do unimaginable things to one another but even more frightening is their capability to recover, to survive. A slight shockwave shook the platform, and Jeremy's mother reluctantly broke the embrace. Jeremy sighed loudly as if to wordlessly say, ‘Not again'. His mother grabbed her blade and placed it into its leather holder upon her back. The quaking became more violent.
"We have to leave." She said to Jeremy hastily. Jeremy began to speak but his mother interjected loudly and firmly. "NOW!" He stowed his small blade away and followed his mother who was already sprinting towards the stairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and with a nod instructed Jeremy to lead. He began to climb the stairs as rapidly as possible, having an easier time going up then he did going down. One of the rotting wooden torches snapped and fell into the darkness as he passed, and he briefly imagined himself plunging head first into the void. He cleared the negative thoughts and let his mind drift to his mother; her heavy breathing acknowledged that she was close behind him. The tremors began to rock the stairs wildly, and Jeremy pumped his arms as he climbed the steep incline.