Prologue: Flight

Night had fallen many hours ago. The brightness of the moon was deeply shadowed as a heavy shroud of ominous clouds drifted silently through the sky. A strong wind shook the branches of the enormous Bris tree. Perched high up, on a sturdy arm of the weathered old tree crouched a man. His large hooded cloak fluttering angrily in the breeze.

 

He pulled his hood lower as the wind began to pick up. A heavy sigh was lost to it, his keen senses could feel the rain approaching. All life in the forest had gone silent as the storm began. Just then, lightning crashed in the distance, as small droplets of rain began falling. The rain created a gentle patter as it struck the lush canopy above, only to be drowned out by the roar of thunder.

 

The lightning became more frequent, giving brief flashes of illumination to his surroundings. It silhouetted an immense castle before him. He turned his head slightly, almost saddened by the beauty of it, despite the dark events of late. Grandiose spiraling towers jutted from the ground, reaching for the heavens. Massive walls, thick and seemingly impregnable surrounded it, made of a curious dark quartz-like stone. Even in the gloom he could faintly make out the archer slits, simply from the torchlight of the corridors within. In the center of the complex was the crown jewel, an expansive domed palace, delicately carved from white marble. The dome was polished it seemed, into a mirror sheen, as it perfectly reflected the intricate patterns of lightning as they streaked in awe-inspiring patterns through the sky.

 

The man shook his head slightly as he leaped forward, arms extended. His eyes remained open, despite the intensity of the falling sensation. Gracefully he caught a lower branch and used his momentum to carry him into an arcing tumble, landing safely on the ground with a slight squish in the now damp grass. Without hesitation he was on his feet, making a mad dash the forty or so yards to the main wall. Here he stopped briefly, rain cascading off his cloak. Within its folds he reached, drawing out a length of rope attached to a blackened grappling hook. Backwards he stepped several paces. Peering into the darkness, he judged the distance to the window above. A quick flick of the wrist launched the hook skyward. A few cautious pulls ensured him that the rope was secure, before he painstakingly began his ascent up the rain soaked wall.

 

Upon reaching the summit, he quietly pulled himself into the confines of the passageway. An almost panting sigh of relief escaped him, the remnants of the storm beading off him onto the cold stone floor. A brief glance was all he gave the corridor. He already knew the layout of the castle and its defenses. All the outer wall corridors ran the length of the walls, occasional windows in place to give archers safe vantage points from which they could defend their lord. Every so often a torch lined the wall, providing what little illumination they could as the draft from the raging storm caused them to flicker angrily.

 

Another sigh, this one of sadness, audibly passed his lips as he turned. Deep down he knew that this would be the last time he ever set foot in this castle. He set off quiet as a mouse towards his destination, his feet leading him from the memories of so many years wandering these very grounds. His mind drifted, going over the events of the day before. Wonder, that’s all he could do, was wonder. Had there not been anything more he could have done?

* * *      

Anger, seething anger is what he felt most, as he pushed aside the shocked sentries and violently flung open the ornate double doors to the council chambers. Several men, including the king jumped, visibly startled by the intrusion on their meeting. A few at least had the sense of mind to draw their blades.

 

Recognition hit the king's face, "What is the meaning of this?" He bellowed.

 

Remembering himself, he quickly dropped to a kneeling bow, "Sire." He stood facing the king, the anger still hot in his eyes as he advanced towards the king. "You cannot do this," A simple statement full of heat, and sincerity.

 

A bemused look crossed the king’s face as he turned towards his men, waving away their weapons, "I believe you forget who I am."

 

The rage dissipated ever so slightly at his mirth, as his tone lowered a bit, " King Disrasi. Sire. You cannot do this. Her armies will not be stopped. We are to few."

 

"And what, you expect me to turn tail and run? Like a dog from an angry master?" Disrasi muttered through gritted teeth, "I will not be cowed by her. Not by HER." It came out nearly as a roar when he said it, his mailed fist slamming down on the council table. The tension in the room was palpable, no one moved.

 

A cringe crossed his face, he knew well the kings anger, "Sire. You must listen. She has it my lord. We're not sure how, but we know that she has found it. She will not be stopped. If the royal family falls to her now, all may be lost." He paused for air before continuing.

 

The king raised a hand to silence him. "We will stop her, and when she lies broken and defeated before us," he paused, thumping himself in the chest for emphasis, "I will execute her myself."

 

"You know of what I speak, Sire." Confused glances issued forth from those gathered, all except the king. "And you know that she will not be stopped. If you think otherwise you are a fool,” He stated forthrightly, meaning every word as he turned on his heels and stormed out.

 

* * *

A subtle noise brought him back to reality. He slowed his movement, easing slowly around a corner. Up ahead, over the boisterous storm raging outside the walls, the almost inaudible sound of men talking could be heard. Most others would not have noticed, but he did. He eased himself into the shadows of the passage, as he began to creep steadily forward. He could see them now, two guards in full battle dress. They seemed rather unconcerned with their duties, leaning casually against the large oaken door behind them. A grim look passed his face; he knew what had to be done. He could not risk them raising an alarm.

 

As he stalked at his prey, his hands slid to his weapons. His left pulled a small wickedly curved short sword forth. The blackened steel blade, matched the dark obsidian encrusted hilt, seeming almost invisible as he gave it a twirl in the darkness. His right wrist twitched and an odd looking stiletto appeared in his hand. It was much shorter then the sword, the narrow blade extended to a point before angling back down to form a vicious hook. The cross guard hilt was oversized on one side, in an arc that seemed to not quite fit the blade.

 

Then he jumped them, bursting forth from the shadows like some feral creature from a nightmare. The first guard almost managed to get his blade up in time. Almost. A surprised gasp escaped his lips as the vicious short blade plunged through his throat. He clawed at his neck briefly, and gave forth a gurgled attempt at breathing, as the light quickly faded from his wide fearful eyes. The hooded man jerked his blade free, feeling movement off to his side. He leaned back just in time, feeling the light swish of air as the steel blade passed, narrowly missing his face. In the same moment he gave a deft twist of his wrist, and thrust the stiletto down, hooked the assailants blade with the oversized cross guard. He continued his movement fluidly, ripping the blade free from the guard’s hand. He never paused, turning the thin blade of the stiletto upwards. It found its mark without error, as it slammed home just below the mans sternum. Quick and mostly painless it was, as he let the man slump to the floor lifelessly.

 

In remorseful silence, he cleaned his blades, before returning them to their sheathes. A quick search of the bodies revealed exactly what he was searching for, a large iron key. Then one by one he hoisted the dead men to the nearest window, pushing them out of it, lest they be discovered sooner. He silently gave a small prayer for his sins as he unlocked the door. The old iron hinges groaned loudly under the weight, as he pulled it open.

 

He made quick work of the spiral staircase, bounding up it two, and sometimes three steps at a time to where it opened up into a larger chamber. He scanned the room. It had apparently been setup as a temporary shelter. Only a few spartan bits of furniture littered the room, including two overly large canopy beds. A large fireplace was built into the stone wall, casting a warm glow through the room. Two small children, no older than six and three sat before the fire. Instantly they turned, warily watching the stranger. The oldest clutched a short silver dagger in a trembling hand. He defensively pushed his younger sibling behind him, "Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?" A blur of questions tumbled franticly from the young boy’s mouth.

 

Saying nothing, the man quickly pulled back the hood from his head. Before them now stood a man, tall and lithe, well muscled. His hair was mostly black, though small patches of gray had crept up in various places over time, marking him as probably middle aged. His face was sharp, high cheekbones and a rather small nose. His short cropped hair, showing off unusually scarred ears. His cool gray eyes looked upon the two children fondly.

 

"Elris!" exclaimed the boy excitedly, as he put away the small dagger. "What on Repik are you doing here?"

 

"There is no time. You must come with me children. She is coming." Elris urged them "Take nothing, only your clothes, we must be gone before she arrives."

 

"But father said." began the young boy.

 

Elris began shaking his head in agreement, "Yes, Yes. I'm well aware of what your father wishes. He has changed his mind and sent me to fetch you two,” A small little lie of no consequence.

 

Elris ushered the two children quickly through the seemingly deserted castle. He knew however, that this was not the case. The castle had occupants; a token crew and guard had no doubt been left behind. While the king took his armies into battle, they would wait and prepare for the kings expected triumphant return. Elris shook his head, two thoughts crossing his mind. One that he should be with the king himself, second that those left behind were maybe worse off than those who would die in the battle. He pushed these thoughts aside, knowing deep down that the children must be kept safe, until they were ready. He remembered the charge given to him so long ago, and he would see to it, no matter what he was forced to do.

 

With a practiced expertise, he guided them through the complex. He navigated lesser-known passages and deserted hallways were used to avoid any of those left behind. It did not take long for them to enter the large magnificent kitchen of the palace. Elris was unconcerned; the few kitchen staff that remained had known him far longer than the current king. He had made arrangements with them as soon as he had resolved to take this course the day before.

 

He gave an elderly woman a slight nod, leading the children to a large storeroom in the back. Elris spared the confused children a wink, and quickly strolled to a lever alongside a back shelf. After giving it a light pull, the shelf groaned, almost as if in pain, before swinging open. Elris smiled, silently wondering how long it had been since anyone beside himself had used this secret path out of the castle.

 

Abruptly the tunnel ended at a rickety looking old ladder. Elris climbed quickly throwing the trapdoor open above him. Immediately rain began pelting him. Blinking water from his eyes, he lowered his hood back over his head and pulled himself out into the darkness. With his assistance, the children were helped from the tunnel. Elris quickly hid the escape hatch again. They set off at a quick pace into the woods around them, Elris' keen senses unhindered by the darkness and rain. It seemed to take forever, though Elris knew it had been only a few minutes, when they reached a thinned out grove of newer forest growth.

 

Waiting almost silently in the shadows of the trees stood three fully geared chestnut colored mares tethered to a small overhang. They stamped warily as the three approached, but quickly calmed recognizing Elris. "Come children." He spoke softly, helping the two into their saddles.

 

"So where are we going Elris?" chimed in the eldest loudly, trying to make himself heard above the crash of the storm.

 

"I can't tell you, but I promise that it will be somewhere you'll both be safe." his voice soft and low as he mounted as well, "Do not be afraid, I will always look after you both. Eventually all memory of this place will fade." His hands taking the reins of their mounts, giving off a light clicking noise. The three horses began to trot off into the darkness.

Chapter 1: Time Will Pass

A cold wind blew harshly across the bare landscape. Elris ignored the biting chill across his face. He stood precariously at the ledge of a cliff, high up in the Qemara Mountains. Darkness had already descended, only a few lingering highlights of color danced about horizon. Small splotches of leftover snow littered the area, hiding within the shadows of large overhangs of jagged rock faces.

 

Normally Elris would not risk coming this close to her territory. His network had been active for over a decade, his eyes and ears behind enemy lines. Now though, word had come to him that she had finally consolidated her power. She was on the move again. He felt as if he had been waiting an eternity, though in reality it had been only a week now. Huddled in his cloak, daring no fire, eating cold rations. His informants had been sure it would be this week. Fighting the urge to shiver, he sincerely hoped they were wrong. Help him Renad, he hoped they were wrong.

 

Into the darkness he peered, as night deepened around him. His heart fell, nausea hitting him in a wave of despair. A single torch flickered to life far below him, farther than any normal man would have been able to see.

 

   It would not stop there he knew turning to retreat quickly. He did not wait to see; he already knew what was happening within the confines of the Great Jergan Forest. An ocean of lights had come to life behind him. A flickering mass in the darkness, like ghostly will'o'wisps. He broke off into a run, he had been given time. Was it enough Renad? He did not expect an answer, or wait for one. He just kept running. Reservation about the role he knew he was to play filling him, just as bitter as the air he gulped down as he ran. Renad be damned.

*   *   *

 

Morning dawned gently, an orange glow upon the land. The dry crispness of winter had yet to settle into the valleys and rolling hills before the Qemara Mountains looming ahead. Two young men sat upon their horses. The dry leaves of the fall crunching underfoot of the mounts as they trotted along a well-worn trail.

 

The young men looked at each other bored, morning patrols were always lacking in entertainment. One was slight in stature; medium length sandy blond hair with heavenly green eyes gazed out over a thin blond mustache. Adorned in silvery steel mail from neck to toe, he made an imposing figure, despite his height astride his dark black stallion.

 

The second man sat quite a few inches taller. Short well-trimmed brown hair danced lightly in the morning breeze. Intense dark brown eyes seeming to scan his surroundings constantly. His face looked younger than his companions for lack of a mustache, not that he could not have grown one. He simply chose not to sport the common feature of his Kynnorian Knight brothers. His armored form was polished and poised atop his Palomino.

 

"Creolis," uttered the first, almost whining. "Aren't we going to take a break soon?"

 

A slight shake of his head causing Creolis' hair to flutter more wildly, "I know these patrols are painful at best Julius, but remember your duty. Should we be attacked, we are the forts only early warning."

 

Julius scoffed loudly at this, " Please, when was the last time anyone threatened Thyrinn's borders?" Upon receiving no answer he continued, "That's what I thought," giving a brief snort "Never. Other than the occasional Wilkhurst or roving pack of Silardens, there are never any incursions or major threats. Everyone knows this post is a joke, reserved for trouble makers mostly."

 

"That’s not really the point is it?" Creolis stated flatly, not denying what the young man said. "Lately though, you know others have been reporting strange sightings."

 

This quieted Julius. It was true; many of the others had been reporting strange things. Shadows moving through the trees, unusual tracks leading towards and away from the Qemara pass. Even two knights had completely vanished several weeks back. Though, most people assumed they had deserted.

 

He took a moment to gaze at the mountains, something he had long since stopped doing since being stationed at Fort Konway. No one really knew what lay beyond. Traveling beyond the pass had long since been banned by the Thyrinn government, after several attempted colonies beyond had vanished mysteriously during the past one hundred years.

 

The rest of the patrol was uneventful, aside from Julius' horse nearly throwing him when it was startled by a large rabbit. Of course Creolis had been overwhelmed with a fit of laughter at this. After a bit, his laughter began to die down, becoming nothing more than an occasional chuckle. He swore to Julius he would not mention it to the others. It was nearing late afternoon as they neared the fort.

 

Fort Konway was not overly large or imposing. It was a simple stone and wood fort built up over time by its inhabitants. Thin stone walls hewn from the Qemara shale made up the bulk of its walls, standing no more than ten feet high. A thick wooden barricade of spikes lined the walls, having been ordered by a previous commander, with a deathly fear of being trampled to death. A small watchtower adorned the single gate, two fully armored knights standing at their post, watching the comings and goings of all.

 

They hailed loudly to the two as they approached, recognizing them at once. One pulled the crank to raise the gate, while the other nodded waving them through. As the gate closed with a dull clink behind them, they began making their way to the stables. "Wait, Creolis." a loud yell echoed from behind causing them to halt. One of the guards was leaning over the back railing of the tower, frantically waving, "The commander wants to see you in his office. I almost forgot."

 

Julius volunteered to stable both horses. Creolis gave a nod of thanks as he dismounted, handing the reins off to him. He shuffled off quickly, wondering what Commander Harvis could possible want. A small squat building at the center of the fort served as the commander’s quarters and office. He entered without hesitation, not even bothering with the formalities of a knock. Everyone knew everyone well enough to dispense with such pleasantries.

 

The office was small and simple. A few portraits adorned the wall, two simple wooden chairs and a slightly oversized desk in the center. Commander Harvis sat behind his desk, brooding over a large document rolled out before him. Another man, sat hooded, opposite the commander, not bothering to turn as Creolis entered. He ignored the man, directing his attention to the commander. He was an aging man, near his sixties probably, though no one really knew for sure, and it was not something that any of them dared ask. Everyone assumed he had been posted out here to live out his command in peace. Though no one had the nerve to ask him about the actual specifics of his reassignment, "You wanted to see me Sir?" Creolis said, giving a respectful bow.

 

"Yes of course. It seems that this messenger has come to deliver new orders for you,” stated Harvis matter-of-factly, "I'm still going over them, but it appears that you're being moved to the capital."

 

It took a few moments for the information to register. A slow look of shock spreading across his face, "But sir, I specifically requested this assignment."

 

"I'm well aware of that Creolis, but orders are orders. Also it seems that this man is here to personally escort you to the capital." Harvis quizzically said, motioning to the other man sitting with them as he continued to read the parchment.

 

The man who had remained silent up until this point stood, pulling back his hood, "Yes, I'm to personally escort you, Creolis." the man said with a bemused grin.

 

"Elris! What in Renad's name are you doing here?" exclaimed Creolis, quickly embracing his old friend.

 

"I'll explain on the way my friend. I've got two fresh horses waiting in the courtyard. We need to leave right away." A strange look passed over Elris' face as he finished, all humor and emotion fleeing from his tone.

 

"Well, I've just returned from patrol. Can't it wait till I've eaten and had a good nights rest?"

 

"No, We must leave." Abruptly he turned to leave with a nod to the commander, "I'll see you in fifteen minutes Creolis, do hurry."

 

Creolis was a little stunned at Elris' shortness as he quickly left. A curt nod to the commander was all he needed before departing to his quarters. Silently he brooded as he packed what little belongings he had. Wondering what seemed to have Elris so worked up. He had never seen him act so mirthless. He was always the first to laugh and carry a smile on his face.

 

Upon meeting Elris, he noticed the waning sunlight and the bitter chill beginning to set it. He retrieved a thick fur-lined cloak from his pack; strapping the small saddlebag to the horse Elris pointed him to. He continued to ponder the strange events as they mounted. What bothered him most was why the knighthood had sent Elris with the orders, instead of a replacement knight for his post.

 

He tried, rather successfully to push these thoughts from his mind. A friendly smile and wave to Julius as they departed. He was more than a little disappointed he had not been given a chance to give his friend a proper farewell, of all the knights currently stationed at fort Konway, Julius was his favorite. They rode out and turned east at a light gallop, Creolis following the pace set by Elris. They traveled in silence for a few hours.

 

Suddenly Elris pulled his reins, bringing his palomino mare to a slow walk. He did the same, pulling into stride beside Elris, who had pulled a water skin from his bag. "Catch," Creolis barely had time to react, and very nearly dropped the skin. He quickly uncapped it, taking long gulps, not realizing how thirsty he had become during their ride. After drinking his fill, he tossed it back to Elris, who sat motionless just staring at him, "Go ahead Creolis. I know the questions are driving you crazy."

 

"I'll start with this. Why did the Praetor send you to escort me?" he asked, referring to the high templar of the Kynnorian knighthood.

 

A sly grin slowly crept up Elris’ face as he placed the skin back in his saddlebag, "She didn't. The orders were fake."

 

"What do you mean fake?"

 

Elris laughed at this, "Exactly what I said, they are forgeries. I had them made weeks ago. When I first found out I had to get you out."

 

A perplexed look openly adorned his face as he stared at Elris not quite understanding. "Speak plainly Elris, It’s been a long day."

 

"Belladria's armies have taken the Qemara pass, and even now they're probably destroying Fort Konway. After that, they will march forth and descend upon Kynnory." Elris stated slowly for Creolis' benefit.

 

Utter disbelief was all that showed on his face. Without a word, or thought, he moved to action. A tight pull on the reins as he dug his heels into the horse's flanks. It lurched forward into a full gallop, back towards fort Konway.

 

Elris turned with a scowl, giving chase. Of course, he had already expected this reaction from Creolis. Oh to be young and idealistic again. The irony was not lost on Elris, as he would have acted much the same in his youth. He remained silent as he closed in on him. It would have been pointless to talk. He knew nothing he could say could change what he had done. It was a necessary evil in these trying times. As abruptly as the chase had begun, it was over. Creolis began to slow his mount, which was breathing raggedly from being pushed so hard. Elris pulled as near as he could. A profound sadness showing on his face under the scornful gaze of his friend, for he knew exactly what he was feeling. "You can't save them. I watched the forces massing on the far side of Qemara. The small contingent stationed at Konway has no chance."

 

"I should be there, it’s my duty. I have to try." the anger apparent in his tone. His posture showed differently, as he began to slump ever so slightly in his saddle.

 

"So you can die to? I made a promise years ago to your father, that what he did for me would not bring harm to his family. I did what I always do. Exactly what must be done for the greater good. You have a greater purpose then to die there with them.”

 

Creolis was still staring at Elris, his eyelids fluttering, his focus on Elris seeming to fade. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. "What did you do to me?"

 

"Just a little sleeping potion. To stop you from doing exactly this. You didn't honestly think that I wouldn't expect a spectacle like this from you?" he said it nonchalantly, not looking for forgiveness.

 

A dazed sleepy glare rode Creolis' face, "You're a bastard." He felt the darkness closing in on him. His last thoughts to himself, was that he could have sworn he heard Elris laughing.

Chapter 2: So It Begins

His eyes fluttered, the warm morning sunshine casting a red glow to his vision. They opened briefly taking in the clear blue sky above, before closing again. A gentle rocking he felt around him, as if he was swaying. The events of the day prior flashed through his still groggy mind like white-hot lightning. Immediately he lurched trying to sit up, almost passing back out in the process, the drugs still lingering in his system.

 

He steadied himself on a polished wooden rail. A wooden rail he questioned silently. He thought to himself shaking his head to clear his vision. A boat, he muttered to himself as he took in his surroundings. He was not sure why he was surprised. Traveling by horse would have taken far to long, especially if there was an army just hours behind them, as Elris had claimed.

 

"Elris!" He roared finding his feet carefully. Just thinking of him had reminded him what his friend had done.

 

"Over here," came a cheery voice from the aft, as if nothing was wrong. "How'd you sleep?"

 

Creolis stamped angrily towards Elris, who sat lazily at the rudder, directing their course. Without hesitation, he balled a heavy mailed fist, which began to glow slightly with a pale opaque almost blue light. He smiled inwardly at the grimace on Elris' face, as he realized what was next. The blow connected solidly to his face, with much more force than even Creolis' impressive physique should have mustered. Elris flew sideways, smashing heavily into the starboard side of the boat, causing it to rock harshly for a moment.

 

Elris groaned as he rubbed his jaw, he felt the warm sensation of fluid flowing as his tongue flicked his now bleeding lip. Much harder, he thought to himself and his jaw would have been dislocated. However, he simply sat himself up and leaned heavily on the railing. He knew he deserved it, and worse probably for the things he had done, "Are you quite done?"

 

"If you ever drug me again, I'll kill you. You deserve it now, letting my men die without at least a warning." he hissed out at Elris, sparing a glance in the direction of Fort Konway, though it was long since gone from view.

 

"Their death was not without a point. They will stall the army long enough for the people of Kynnory to flee. Did you not think I would also send word to your father?"

 

Creolis stopped, looking now to the northeast. The thought of his hometown had not yet crossed his mind. They were the closest large town to Fort Konway. That was after all why he had requested being stationed at fort Konway in the first place. Concern began to rise across his brow, and Elris saw it.

 

"No," Elris stated flatly, "We are not going there either. I sent word to your father days ago, before I even knew with absolute certainty that Belladria's armies were on the move. He and any who will follow should be long gone before the city is attacked. He was instructed to tell the townspeople what was coming and to take all who would travel with him away, to Calle, then to Amlily."

 

"And what if no one listens?" anger beginning to rise in his voice again.

 

"Your father holds much influence, many will listen. Those that don't will soon witness the folly of their decisions firsthand.” A decidedly indifferent shrug emanated from Elris as he spoke.

 

"How can you be so heartless about this Elris? I've always known you to be kind, filled with laughter. There are many in Kynnory that would call you friend, but you would leave their fates to chance, to whether or not they believed an seemingly outlandish unlikely tale."

 

"You don't live as long as I do without learning that you can't save everyone." He shrugged to add emphasis "I learned long ago, to laugh at what you can, and do what you have to for the greater good. I can hope that all will follow, but I know that they will not. I have to find what solace I can with the knowledge that I saved those that I could, but maybe you’re right. I am a bit cynical in my old age."

 

"So, where will we go then if not to Kynnory?" Creolis sounded disappointed, though secretly he had no desire to run headlong into a rampaging army.

 

"We will follow Lake Repik's southern border, to the river Allowyin." Elris ventured, referring to the lake named for its crystal clear green waters. Kynnory was nestled cozily onto its western banks.

 

"We're going to Calle?" inquired Creolis knowing that the Allowyin flowed out of Lake Repik, into the city-state of Calleron just to the east of Kynnory.

 

"No, my people have reported that Belladria already has agents roaming the countryside. She knows me. She no doubt has them looking for me. Some of my people have already been killed or gone missing."

 

"Your people? Who are you? Who is this, this Belladria?" he sounded exasperated, wondering why all this was happening, "What in Renad's name is going on. You need to give me some answers Elris, some real answers."

 

Elris sighed, eyes downcast, watching the water lap gently against the edge of the boat. His thoughts racing as he considered what he should tell Creolis. His life had already been turned upside down, why make it worse? For that matter where to even begin, "What do you know of the War of Eight?"

 

"That old tale? Eight powerful practitioners of magic, each master of their craft, waged a war against each other. It devastated the lands of Dalsor, leading to the Desolation. In the end, King Elia of Dalsor, with the help of Renad, ended their reigns of terror and the war. They banished magic, lest it be used to ruin the world further." He began to rant off the little bits of random text he could remember.

 

Elris had an incredulous look on his face, somewhere between disgust and disbelief, "Is that really what they're teaching in the histories now?" something between a scoff and a chuckle left him.

 

"And you know more, is that it?"

 

"Of course. I'm a member of Renad's Tempest."

 

"Renad’s Tempest,” he mused thoughtfully, “Why does that sound familiar? Isn’t that the society of warriors dedicated to Drnae, founded by Renad himself?" A dubious look on Creolis' face, as he struggled not to laugh.

 

"Well I see we're still at least mentioned in the histories." he grumbled, "Yes, of course them."

 

"Almost no one follows Drnae anymore, his religion has been in decline for centuries. Only Thyrinn itself even still has a temple dedicated to him. Yet, you expect me to believe in the existence of some underground secret society?"

 

"Believe me or not Creolis. It doesn't really matter does it? It has no effect on the situation we are in. Eventually you will come to the conclusion that what I speak is the truth"

 

A nod and a wave to continue from Creolis as he nodded his acceptance of this truth, "Then do enlighten me, and we will see what I think of your story."

 

"Most of the history being taught is incorrect. Elia was also one of the eight, and yes, all Eight were the most powerful practioners of the arts ever seen. They trapped the worlds magic’s however, they weren't banished. They tapped into the world’s magic and trapped it in eight artifacts, effectively stealing it from Mris for their own private use," Creolis gazed at him, skeptical but nevertheless listening intently as he continued. "Renad convinced Elia of the folly in this, and when Elia went to the others, it sparked the War of Eight that culminated in the devastation that created the place you call The Desolation."

 

Elris gazed off into nothing, almost as if he were remembering, rather then reciting history. "After it ended, the artifacts were scattered, the people scattered. Renad disappeared. King Elia went west and founded a new kingdom, called Eliasovania. People chose," he paused a moment "They chose to forget, the powers of the Adrari were eventually discovered. Powers of the mind. The Tempest never forgot though. Throughout history, we have watched for the return of the Lost Eight. Many of us hoped that it would never come to pass. Fourteen years ago that changed."

 

"Um," interjected Creolis, not entirely understanding everything he was hearing. "Where does Belladria fit into this? Or my father for that matter."

 

"The impatience of youth," scowled Elris at him. "I was getting to that. Belladria is the ruler of Jerga, another realm west of the Qemara. A deformed forsaken people remnant of the War of Eight. Fourteen years ago, She found one of the Lost Eight. I'm not sure which one she has in her possession, but she used its power to wage war against the Eliasovania. At the time I urged the king to flee east, to seek help against her from your Thyrinnian Nation." this time, profound sadness seemed to consume him as he became quite silent a few minutes. "Needless to say, he did not heed me. So, I did what I had to do, as Renad's Tempest has always done through the ages. Watched over the Elia royal line, and for the artifacts return."

 

"That still doesn't explain my father Elris." It came out as almost a whisper.

 

"When the king refused to listen, I did what I was needed to preserve the Elian Royal family. In secret, I stole the last two surviving descendants of Elia, and smuggled them to safety. They were mere children at the time, only a few summers old. Your father helped me hide them. I've been watching over them ever since, waiting. Helping to prepare them for what they would have to do, even if they did not know themselves. I knew it would only be a matter of time before she expanded her conquest in search of the Eight." He paused for air, letting the weight of the situation hang in the air between them, "Thyrinn must be warned. She must be stopped. The children that were hid with your fathers help must come to power and regain what they have lost. If she gains all of The Lost Eight, nothing will stop her."

 

"Ok, but." He began, before being cut off by Elris.

 

"I've told you all I can for now. At least all that matters. Now, I think we should have lunch, since you missed breakfast." Elris procured a simple meal from their provisions; bread, cheese, dried beef and mulled wine to wash it down with. They ate in relative silence. Every once in a while, Creolis would attempt to goad more from Elris. He was not forthcoming however, and soon enough, his stomach full Creolis sat back gazing into the afternoon sky. He pondered the thing he had learned, thoughts erratically zipping about his mind. An hour or so had passed before the thought occurred to him.

 

"Elris?" his tone inquisitive, "Why me? Are my brother and I the children from Elia?"

 

Elris cocked a single brow in his direction, pondering his answer in silence before he gave it, "I think Creolis Kynra. That this old man shall keep what secrets are necessary for now."

 

"That's not a no." He replied with a slight smile growing on his lips.

 

"It's not a yes either." Elris said with a coy smile before pulling his trademark hood over his head, hiding the gruesome scars on top of his ears as he always did.

 

Creolis allowed himself a groan of displeasure at his evasiveness, though secretly he was please. He scooted around against the railing trying to get into a comfortable position. The mild warmth of the afternoon, combined with his satisfied stomach, and the lull of the waters allowed him to drift off, dreams of princedom dancing in his mind.

 

He awoke at dusk with a groaning stretch. He rubbed his eyes and realized he had slept longer then he thought. Already the different shades of dusk danced across the horizon, melting into the glassy surface of the lake, which gave on a pastel greenish glow in the fading evening light. His nose crinkled on its own, a burnt distasteful odor sticking to the back of his throat. He turned to find Elris; intent on asking him what was cooking. It never happened. As soon as he saw the orange glow to the northwest, the black smoke disappearing into the twilight. He knew what it was, and it sickened him. He slumped to the railing as he gazed into the distance, a horrified look of shock on his face. No, his mind whispered to him in denial, but his mind could not convince him that what he was witnessing was not real. Kynnory was burning.

Chapter 3: East

Creolis sat forlorn against the edge of the small sailboat, staring towards Kynnory. The bright orange signifying the city in flames, had died down to a dull amber as the night deepened. He said nothing, just watching, the loss of his home, where he had spent so many years, drove nails into his soul. Elris for his part left him to mourn in silence. He kept his gaze focused east occasionally glancing around for signs of anyone else on the lake.

 

Deep within the confines of his essence, he felt disgust. This Belladria had attacked, unprovoked; murdering people, he called friends and comrades needlessly. Now, her armies had arrived suddenly on the city he had grown up in, slaughtering untold numbers, for no other reason that they were in the way of her pursuit of power. Yes, he was disgusted and wrathful he thought. No one with such blind bloodlust should be allowed to rule; no one with such blatant disregard for life should be put in such a place of power. She must be stopped he decided, as he stared at the flickering glow of the blaze’s remnants, feeling as though it were his life that was shriveling within the flames.

 

Their progress was steady. Elris expertly kept them gliding through the water, being pulled always eastward towards Allowyin. Lake Repik emptied into it to the east, flowing all the way to the city of Calle. Elris doubted that Belladria had time to bring the craft necessary to cross the lake. Yet, he was taking no chances, ignoring his body’s pleas for sleep. He pushed himself on through the night. The large forests slowly began to grow less dense as they began to pass from the foothills of the Qemara Mountains towards the grassier gentle plains of Calleron.

 

Dawn began to approach, the first inklings of light bursting forth across the horizon. The loud rustle of something darting into a small grove of trees on the lakes eastern shoreline startled Elris, who had been dozing off against his will. He spared a glance to the side, Creolis had not moved all night, nor had he uttered a word. He sighed to himself, knowing what loss like that could do to a man. Silently he navigated their small boat to the shoreline, tethering it to a small tree dangling out over the water.

 

"Come on Creolis. We need to eat, and I need a little rest. I've been going straight on for over two days now." Elris stated flatly taking the small leap to the shoreline, after grabbing his traveling pack. Effortlessly he anchored the small craft to the shoreline, making sure it would not drift away during his rest. He did not wait to see if Creolis joined him. With a purposeful stride, he entered the small grove and began arranging a small quick campsite. A quick glance to the sky assured him a tent was unnecessary, so he rolled out his sleeping gear and plopped down exhausted. He managed a stretch, his body pleading with him for sleep. Despite this, he spared only a few minutes to force a few mouthfuls of dry bread down, to ease his hunger.

 

It was during this that Creolis finally joined him. He looked weathered, and he thought years older then he had the night before. He hunkered down near Elris quietly leaning against a large pine, wrapping himself tightly into his cloak. Elris watched him drift off into a fitful sleep, and doubted he would remain that way for long. No doubt, his mind was filled with too much turmoil to allow a relaxing rest. With a slight shake of his head, he nestled into his own cloak, and allowed himself to drift off as well.

 

Elris awoke with a start. He had always been a light sleeper. Years of practice. He jumped to his feet, having drawn his scimitar in the same fluid motion. His eyes darting to and fro, searching frantically for any sign of danger. Quickly he realized it had just been Creolis walking back to their small camp. Creolis stopped temporarily, eyeing him warily two small hares swaying gingerly in his hand. A short yew bow in his other. He grinned just slightly as he held them up, "Breakfast?"

 

Elris was firmly against the idea of a fire, not wanting to take the chance. However, Creolis would not have it. He assured Elris that he had been watching all morning, and that anyone coming out of the foothills would have been easy to spot. He doubted they would have made it this far from Kynnory already. Also, this area was sparsely populated. It would make much more sense to track along the northern edge of Lake Repik. All the settlements led that way, unless you wanted to cross the lake directly. Finding no fault in his reasoning, he allowed the fire. With practiced expertise, Creolis cleaned the small game and in no time had them spit, roasting on a small crackling fire. They sat around the small fire, watching the hares cook. Creolis slowly turned them.

 

"Elris. I'll help you stop her," he said unexpectedly breaking the silence. "She has to pay for what she's done. There are no words to describe what she has taken from me and a tyrant such as her cannot be left unchallenged."

 

"I know, but don't let this be about revenge Creolis. It’s a dark place to go, one could easily lose his soul and become no better than the thing he is trying to stop. Rather let it be about preventing another cataclysm like the War of Eight."

 

He had no answer to this, so Elris left it alone for now. After finishing the rather pleasant meal, they quickly packed their small camp back into the boat. A couple minutes were spent washing in the lake, before they once again boarded and set off towards Allowyin. Late that evening, just before dark. They reached the mouth of the river. The currents began to speed in the much more narrow river. Elris manned the rudder, clenching it with white knuckles in an effort to keep to the center of the river. Quickly they entered the rapids. The shallowness of the river along with the random jagged rock formations, causing the waters to slosh violently around them. White frothy spray splashed all around them. More then once they almost rolled. It was as if the water was angry with them, trying to take them under for daring to traverse it.

 

Finally, Creolis was forced to take over, using his Adrari fueled strength to hold the rudder. His entire body glowing the same pale opaque blue, sweat glistening on his brow. It gave him an almost ethereal look as he grunted and cursed under the strain of trying to retain control of the craft. Elris turned the small single square sail, in an effort to slow their rapid progress through the river. Years of practice or perhaps sheer luck carried them safely through the worst of the rapids. The current was still strong, but not dangerously so. Creolis nearly collapsed from the exhaustion of using his Adrari powers for so long. Elris took over as he slumped nearby resting quietly.

 

The Adrari he thought to himself. The supreme power of the mind. All citizens of Thyrinn possessed it to some degree. To Elris it was something like an echo of the magic lost two millennia ago, though just as dangerous. He pondered the caste system to it. There were three classes. The Ridrari were the most powerful, tested young and found to have immense potential. They were trained from a very young age, and eventually became the core of the Adrari ruling class of the Thyrinnian nation. Second was the Sidrari, like Creolis. He had an exceptional control of his abilities, but nothing rivaling that of the Ridrari. These were usually placed within the fighting ranks of Thyrinn, using their powers to augment the combat ability to varying degrees. Though since Elris had not seen him in years, he had no clue what he was actually capable of. The lowest was the Lidrari. These people could only use their minds to add umph to the most basic of mundane tasks. They in many ways treated as second-class citizens throughout much of the kingdom.

 

They traveled like this for several days. Taking turns at the rudder, sleeping in shifts and eating small meals. Occasionally they would stop and make camp on the shore, just to break the monotony and to hunt fresh game. At first the weather was mild and pleasant, the crisp green colors of fall on the plains of Calleron still holding on as best as they could. Soon however the icy fingers of winter would begin to expand from the Qemara, clutching the lands in their grasp all the way to the eastern coast of Amlily. After nearly ten days of travel down Allowyin, Creolis grew restless. Sitting about doing nothing most of the time just was not something that he was used to. Horseback, woods, hunting, swordsmanship training, these were his bread and butter. Sitting in a boat day after day was beginning to wear on him. He fidgeted trying to get comfortable as he stared off down the river.

 

"Don't worry Creolis," volunteered Elris, easily recognizing the discomfort his friend was suffering, "If my reckoning is right. It seems that we have completely left the Kynnorian foothills. We can disembark at our convenience; I’ll keep an eye out for somewhere suitable. That way we can pull the boat ashore and hide it from any prying eyes."

 

"Good! I’m sick to death of this wretched boat and the water. If I have to sit here much longer, I might just sink it myself."

 

Elris laughed a little, scanning down the riverbanks. Sure enough, within a few minutes he spotted an indention in the embankment, surrounded on all side by massive willow trees. Their long drooping thin leaves hung about the water like a curtain. Perfect he thought to himself, letting the current draw him closer before he steering them effortlessly within the shelter of the trees. Creolis leapt off with a small splash in the shallow water, tethering rope in hand. He pulled with his legs, dragging the boat up as far as he could onto the shore before tying it to a tree.

 

The two worked in unison, unpacking what little they had that would be useful as they continued on their journey. East Elris had said, and he was true to his word. A harsh pace they set, not knowing how far Belladria's forces had managed to go. Elris was ever vigilant as they marched, keeping a keen situational awareness on everything happening around him.

 

The two made their way eastward much faster then Creolis had expected. The flat grassy plains of Calleron made travel easy. Within just a few short days, they had already made it to the main road leading to the capital city of Calle. They crossed quickly, avoiding interaction with other travelers. There were not many people about though. Creolis did however; see one group that seemed to be traveling from Calle southeast along the road. To him they seemed bedraggled, as if they had traveled some great distance. As they disappeared from his view, he wondered to himself if they might be from Kynnory. His thoughts went to his parents, wondering if they had survived the devastation. He desperately hoped so. Giving a silent prayer to his patron goddess Kynny, The Goddess of Justice. He trudged on with Elris, the routine much the same as it had been on the boat. Creolis preferred it this way though, the open land, the working of his muscles, even the constant sleeping in open air.

 

It had only been a few days since they passed the main road of Calle when the unease started. It was Elris that noticed it first. They continued to press on, but Creolis felt Elris' apprehension growing. He also saw that he would occasionally glance behind him peering intently into the distance. It was as if he were waiting in trepidation for some phantasm to manifest behind them. During one of their nighttime stops, Creolis was sleeping. His dreams filled with visions of Kynnory burning. He tossed fitfully in his sleep, sweating profusely. A nudge broke him from his slumber. It caused him to jump violently to a sitting position, hand going for the sword laying at his side as his eyes focused. Elris squatted before him, finger to his lips in a silencing motion. He pointed to Creolis, then his own eyes, then off to a small ridge on their right.

 

Creolis nodded slowly drawing his Ejora blade from its sheath making as little noise at possible. It was easily the largest broadsword Elris had ever seen. Most men would have carried it two handed. The hilt was twice the length of most he had ever seen. At the end was a large topaz that glittered a strange almost putrid yellow in the green moonlight. It was the week of Dalsor, a name coming from legends of old. The name referred to the time of the month when for a single week, the moon Repik gracefully crept across the sky, faintly visible even during the day. The moon was huge in the night sky, easily encompassing nearly a fifth of the heavens. The entire moon shone with a deep green light, casting a pale barely visible green light upon Mris. During these few days, the powers of the Adrari were intensified too no small degree.

 

Together the two, who had been lighting no fire, slowly made their way in the almost darkness of the moonlight towards the ridge. To late they realized that the cover was not enough. A twang reverberated through the stillness of the night. An arrow whizzed by Creolis narrowly missing. All pretense of stealth faded from them. Instantly Creolis' entire body began to glow with the familiar pale opaque blue, the edges rimmed in the shallow green light of the moon. It gave him a wraithlike otherworldly appearance in his battle regalia as he shot past Elris. He crested the ridge first, the Adrari flowing through him. As he hit the top of the small hill he leaped, the topaz flared with a bright light as he did. An ethereal blade of energy flowed through the topaz extending outward creating a flaring ghostly mirror image of the Ejora as he did. The three men illuminated by the unearthly light shrank back as he glided through the air. They stumbled backwards down the ridge, covering their faces.

 

The ghostly blade took the first man in the shoulder next to his chest, a scorching sizzle resounded as it sliced through bone and muscle as if it was butter. No blood sprayed from the wound, the kinetic energy cauterizing the wound as the blade flowed. The man fell wordlessly, a scream locked in death upon his lips. The other two had dropped their bows, shocked at the sudden assault. A small rapier and a short sword flashed before Creolis' frantic eyes. The rapier stabbed forward in haste, a small stiletto managed to catch in just in time before his frenzied eyes.

 

He wasted no time, switching his grip and bringing the heavy blade over his head towards the other remaining assailant. The man barely managed to bring his short blade up in time to knock the blow to the side. The adrenalin would not be stopped. The blade came around, its phantasmal copy catching him in the ankle, not only severing the limb, but also continuing the blades fluid momentum around in one motion. The solid blade hit him in the right shoulder. A crunch filled his ears, the sound barely registering between the loud thump of blood in his ears. Bone stopped the real blade abruptly causing himself to tumble forward with the assailant. A couple of rolls later they came to a rest, Creolis panted heavily. He looked down at the figure he was nearly straddling, only slight convulsions wracked the body as shock from his injuries stole what remained of his vitality, silently he died.

 

Creolis looked over, beginning to regain himself. The blocked rapier had belonged to Elris, who had pushed himself to his limits to close the gap created by Creolis’ Adrari fueled rush. The third man obviously terrified by the Adrari, and having had his kill shot blocked by that oddly fashioned stiletto turned after giving Elris a quick kick to the sternum. He ran as if his very life depending on it, which it very much did. Struggling for breath, Elris rolled around on the ground gasping. Creolis ran over, making sure he had not been seriously injured. Without thought, he grabbed Elris' bow and knocked an arrow. He fired, taking almost no time to aim. A smile of satisfaction as it hit the fleeing man quickly faded as he saw it catch him only in the shoulder. A yelp echoed through the still air, but he did not fall, he remained on his feet fleeing into the darkness. Creolis gave a moment’s thought to giving chase, but stopped. His friend still lay struggling on the ground.

 

"Are you alright?" Creolis questioned, kneeling by Elris, rolling him over to check for any bleeding.

 

"I'm fine." he hissed in-between gasping for air, "Cheap shot, knocked the wind out of me."

 

Minutes passed as Elris collected himself. Creolis lit a torch, taking it over to the bodies. Gingerly he removed the leather hoods from them, and gave a muffled gasp of disgust. Laid out at his feet was a twisted man, face disfigured and sunken. Pitch black eyes stared lifelessly into the sky. Thin wire like hair clung in small patches about his head. Pale yellow sickly looking skin gave an unhealthy pallor to the corpse. Elris had joined him by now and nodded to Creolis. "What is that thing? I've never seen a man like that before."

 

Sadness crept over Elris' face as he began in a slow troubled voice, "That, that is a Jergan. Or rather, that's what they're called now. Long ago, during the War of Eight, they were a race of elves known as the Dasorinthium, who rebelled against King Elia. The king used the Helm of Elia, to transform all those who dissented into the twisted race you see before you. Think of it, the power of a single Artifact, changing an entire race of people into something else entirely. This," he paused giving the inert form a stiff kick in retaliation for his injured pride, “Is why the Lost Eight cannot fall into her hands. The result would be beyond cataclysmic.”

 

"So they’re agents of this, Belladria?" Creolis continued to stare at the lifeless form, a strange feeling of sympathy forming in his gut as Elris related his small tale.

 

"Of course, no doubt her people roam the countryside. Surely they spotted us and no doubt they recognized me right away."

 

Nodding Creolis continued, "One got away, I only caught him with a glancing blow."

 

"Then we should make haste. He will spread word of us. More will come looking. I had thought to skirt the roads and head to Amlily as directly as we could. After this though," He motioned at the body. "I think we should continue east, into the Reastro swamps."

 

A laughed echoed from Creolis, obviously not taking Elris seriously, "I'm not sure that is a good idea. The Broslak control that wretched place."

 

Nodding slowly, "I'm aware, but we can keep to the game trails and make for the Reastro River, then follow it south into Amlily. We shouldn't be in their territory for more then a couple of days. A week at most." he volunteered, "Unless you'd rather deal with more of these soon."

 

A shrug was the only answer Creolis had for him. Either way was likely to be dangerous, but being out in the open, waiting daily for ambush seemed to him, the greater of two evils. So together in the darkness, they broke camp, and began their eastward march.

Chapter 4: Bad to Worse

They traveled as quickly and lightly as possible. The two remained ever vigilant for signs of new or renewed pursuit. Running themselves ragged, they pushed on, stopping only when absolutely necessary. They continued to sleep in shifts, not wanting to be caught unawares. Their hunting was cut to a minimum, just enough to keep the pangs of hunger away. The weather took a dramatic change. Bitter winds from the west overtook them. They traveled at night, mostly by moonlight. Not only to avoid being spotted again, but also so they could sleep during what little warmth the daylight would offer. More then once, one or the other would awaken in the freezing temperatures to find that small icy clumps hung about their lashes.

 

It went like this for what seemed like weeks to Creolis. The same daily routine was tiresome, but he could see that they were making progress. Slowly but surely, the browning winter grasses began to give way to sod-like wet grasses. The weather even began to grow milder, Reastro being fed warmer northern winds, rather than the cold winds coming out of the Qemara Mountains to the west. As the terrain shifted, they encountered their first sinkhole. Creolis was shuffling along quickly, and took a step onto what looked like solid ground. He learned otherwise as his heavy booted foot sank through a soupy mess of reeds and other vegetation. His entire body following with a loud mushy splash as he quickly began to sink. Elris laughed loudly as he urgently searched for something to help pull him out with. It took no time to find a long waterlogged branch. He held it out to Creolis, using it to pull him from the mess. Creolis sank down on the edge of the pool, his entire form drenched as Elris leaned back a second wave of laughter overcoming him.

 

They paused for a while after this, managing, despite the wetness, to make a small fire so Creolis could dry himself. A sullen Creolis sat wrapped in a dry cloak. The one he had been wearing they had wrung out as best they could and now hung on a nearby branch drying. Elris was busy skinning a large constrictor he had managed to trap, preparing it for what would probably be the best food they had eaten in a while. He had gathered some of the local edible flora and was in the process of making skewer sticks for them both.

 

"This wetness is miserable. I can't tell half the time, where the plants end and the water begins,” grumbled Creolis, rubbing his arms to increase circulation against the cold.

 

"Yes, I always hated coming here. I've avoided it for decades." he said offhandedly pushing large chunks of vegetables on the shaved sticks, along with sizeable morsels of snake.

 

Creolis gazed at him oddly, thinking to himself that Elris was only maybe his father’s age. "At least there has been no sign of the Broslak." A shudder ran through him. He had heard plenty of stories of the Broslak. A race of mysterious lizard like creatures, which controlled the swamps of Reastro. Speculation abounded as to where they came from. Some said they were a result of magic’s unleashed during the War of Eight. Others that they were created by the gods, or the result of some mutation. No one really knew. Most people tended to avoid the area, except for the SaltSteel dwarves that used its twisted waterways to travel for trading in Amlily. The swamp itself was dangerous enough with its sinkholes and carnivorous wildlife, without adding the Broslak into the mix.

 

"With a little luck we'll get out of here without ever seeing any of them." Elris turned the skewers over, the smell of sizzling fat wafting through the air.

 

"We could sure use a little luck,” he said taking a deep breath. "That sure smells delicious. I don't think I can remember the last time I had to eat snake." a small chuckle escaping him.

 

Elris shrugged with a smile, "It could be worse, lets just hope that the smell doesn't bring anything bigger along."

 

This caused Creolis to look around dubiously. His knowledge of the swamplands was limited. He was not even sure what else out here could be bigger. The snake Elris had caught had already surprised him as the biggest snake he had ever seen. "What else is out here that's bigger?"

 

   Elris laughed, leaning into the damp tree at his back. "You'll know if you see one."

 

He gulped audibly, leering around the overly quiet swamps. Late afternoon had come and gone and darkness was beginning creep its way through the lush dampness. Food that evening was plentiful. After eating, they smothered the fire making sure that it did not continue to smoke, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to themselves. Afterwards, they decided to just go ahead and call it a night. They already had lost several hours due to his unforeseen accident. Neither of them voiced their opinion that they would rather not go traipsing about in the swamps in the dark.

 

A dull gray overcast sky is what Creolis awoke to, Elris having taken the last watch. Breakfast consisted of little more then bread and water. Their supplies had begun to dwindle and they were rationing where they could. It would not be long before they would be living entirely off the land itself. Not an entirely pleasant thought to either of them. The rain started about noon. Creolis groaned loudly when the first few drops hit him. As if it was not already wet enough around here he thought. He pulled his hood over his head, sparing a glance to the dark gray clouds overhead. The trails had virtually vanished in the half submerged trees and masses of vines and reeds that were suffocating the land. Already several times they were forced to backtrack, the waters becoming so deep that progress became impossible.

 

Elris seemed sure that the Reastro River could not be much farther away. Creolis though was rather skeptical. Without the sun to gauge time, he was unsure about how long they had been moving that day. Sometimes he was not even sure which direction they were going. A few times, he swore they were passing a group of trees that he thought they had already passed. Elris assured him that this was not the case. Eventually the sky began to darken further. At first Creolis thought, it was because the storm was growing worse, but the steady flow of rain remained unchanged. Then it dawned on him that it was because they had been walking all day and night was fast approaching. He sighed, no wonder he felt worn down, and still it seemed they were no closer to their destination.

 

He started to yell at Elris that maybe they should find a place to camp for the night. He never got the chance; movement in his peripheral vision catching his attention. He knew it was to late before he turned. There was not even enough time to cry out a warning to Elris. The Broslak had caught them. He started to go for his sword, glancing towards Elris and thought better of it. The creature before him was huge, standing very near seven feet in height. It was hairless, covered head to toe in dark ebony scales that glistened as they shed any water that touched them. It had what seemed unusually large yellow slited eyes. Its head was almost humanlike; the ears however flattened and turned in. Vaguely reminding Creolis of a cobra he had seen at market when he was younger. Otherwise, the form was very humanoid except for the thick tail hanging about his backside. The creature carried no weapon Creolis noticed. Upon further inspection he realized it was carrying nothing man made at least. Its taloned hands and feet and razor sharp teeth were more then capable of shredding anything it came across limb from limb.

 

Glancing about it became quickly apparent that though he saw only a couple of them, they were indeed surrounded. Figures moved in-between trees making no noise, perfectly camouflaged in the shadows of twilight. He was unsure of what to do. They had offered them no violence. In fact, they just seemed to be watching them. Not wanting to take his eyes off the creature before him, he was conflicted. Finally, he figured that if they had meant to kill them, it would have already happened. He looked at Elris several yards away for some indication of what they should do. Elris gave no visible signs; he stood impassively staring at them, standing in a completely neutral posture.

 

"Come with us." The creature spoke in a clear concise, and just slightly aggressive voice.

 

He turned back to it looking rather shocked that it had spoken to him, and a little disappointed, he had envisioned the creature having a hiss to his voice. The tension in the air palpable enough to be smothering, and easily recognizable as he spoke, "And where would you have us go?" he retuned.

 

"We take you to Chief. We follow you two days now. He will want to know why you in Broslak realm." His common language came across slightly broken, as though it was seldom used and unpracticed.

 

"We are just passing through on our way to Amlily. We will make no trouble in your lands." He pleaded vehemently, terrified of the various torturous scenarios running vividly through his mind.

 

"Matters not, you come.” The creature seemed calm, as though there was no refuting what was about to happen.

 

He got the impression that this was not a request and he shrugged in Elris' direction. "Lead the way.” The three nearest him remained in place. Another of the Broslak seemed to materialize from the swamps between the two. It motioned with a clawed hand, indicating that they should follow him. Grudgingly, Creolis’ shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, they did. The creature moved, or rather seemed to flow through the swampy terrain. It moved at a breakneck pace that the two were hard pressed to keep up with. It followed trails that would have been impossible for even the most expertly trained trackers to have found, let alone follow. Creolis panted heavily as he rushed through the brush, trying to keep up. He had no intention of getting on their bad side.

 

After nearly an hour, though it felt like more. He noticed that the ground seemed to become firmer beneath his feet. Darkness shrouded their view this late in the evening, but far in the distance Creolis could make out the flickering of light. They neared what appeared to be a nomadic village, very basic in construction. Hide and skin tents littered the clearing of a large patch of high ground, above the water of the swamps surrounding it. A large bonfire lit the center of the village, burning high into the darkness, throwing dancing shadows around the clearing. Broslak where everywhere, seeming to appear and fade into the darkness as they moved. Creolis realized that they must have been dancing. He could hear the slow rhythmic thump of drums, though he could not see them. A small youth ran past ahead of them. It stopped briefly gawking in their direction before running off.

 

A nudge in the back caused Creolis to realize he had stopped, taking it all in. Elris also seemed lost. He had stopped as well, peering intently into the darkness. Creolis glanced in the direction he stared at, but could see nothing of interest; the two were quietly ushered towards the back of the camp. A larger dwelling stood here, ornately decorated with bones of animals unrecognizable to him. Two guards, easily the largest of the Broslak he had yet seen stood guard at the entrance. They stepped back seeing them approach and lifted the aged hide covering the entryway. Apparently, word of them had already reached the encampment before they had for they seemed to have been expecting them. None of the others moved, making it clear to them that they were intended to enter alone.

 

The two pushed their way in, ducking to avoid being caught in the entrance. The room was circular in fashion, extending upwards into a peak. The floor was just plain dirt, with a few hide skin rugs strewn about. A fire burned in a hearth at the center, casting a warm glow about the room. At the far end of the room sat a solitary Broslak. His actual was age impossible to tell, though he seemed to emanate an old wisdom. His black scales had long since lost their sheen, appearing dull in the orange light. Several of his once magnificent scales looked as if they were cracked, though if from age or scars of battle he could not tell.

 

"Why you enter our lands pale folk? Very seldom we see your kind." the aged Broslak began, his voice cracking as if parched from an unquenchable thirst.

 

Creolis was given no time to respond. Elris stepped up before he had the chance. He drew back his hood and sat before the aged lizard man cross-legged without being invited. He said nothing, just stared at him from across the fire for several minutes. "Dwenoil?" Elris said, more a statement than a question.

 

"You know me?" he leaned forward, squinting at him quizzically in the dull light of the fire. His eyes searching the man’s figure as his mind searched for some memory that would give recognition to this man before him.

 

"Of course I know you. How could I forget Dwenoil son of Dunain. Though I admit, you were much younger then." His voice was friendly and calm, as if he were meeting an old acquaintance that had been missed for years.

 

"Come closer, let see you." Elris obliged leaning in where the old one could see him better. "Scarred one?" he questioned, motioning towards his disfigured ears, a small glint in his eyes of some distant memory that had faded with the passing of years.

 

A curt nod from Elris was his reply. The chieftain shook his head in doubt, "You cannot. Pale ones not long lived. You look same." The old ones head tilted to the side as he tried to gather the truth for himself.

 

"Yes, it’s been a long time old one. It is me I swear by Drnae,” he said with a shrug. He was at this moment unsure if the elderly Broslak believed what he was telling him.

 

Creolis sat back watching the exchange, a look of confusion on his face. He shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. He was very knowledgeable about the Broslak, but he had heard they could easily live to a hundred and twenty, if not more. Just then, a shadow shifted along the back wall catching his attention. This caused him to turn from the conversation. It vanished before he could make it out, leaving hackles raised on his neck. An outraged voice caused him to turn back to the two.

 

"You not invoke that. Drnae will decide truth. You not scarred one." Yelled the feeble old Broslak in his seldom used common tongue angrily, his words coming out slightly broken.

 

The two gigantic Broslak that were standing guard just outside suddenly burst into the room, quickly escorting them from the old ones enraged presence. Roughly, they were led to another smaller tent. Here they were searched thoroughly, all their weapons taken from them. Afterwards the creatures tied their hands, and then were forcibly placed inside under watch. Several guards were stationed outside. Though unarmed and tied up Creolis hardly thought it was necessary, it did not seem as if they were going anywhere anyway.

 

"Why was he yelling about Drnae, what did you say to him." An infuriated Creolis belted out, incensed by the treatment they had received at their captors. Never would the honorable Kynnorian knights treat anyone in such a way, not even prisoners.

 

"The Broslak still follow Drnae from ancient times. Dwenoil intends to throw us to the Monikai to test my words. It is an ancient Broslak custom used to determine the truth of a man’s words." Elris said as if he had no care in the world about their current predicament.

 

"You know their chief. He didn't seem to think that you are who you say you are. Why is that?" He seemed a little confused by all of this; Elris sometimes seemed so cryptic and vague about what he knew.

 

He shrugged once again his infuriating ambiguous attitude towards Creolis shining through, "He's old, I’m sure his memory has faded."

 

"Or you're hiding something. You said before that it’s been decades since you were here. You would have been a mere child if that were the case, and why do they call you the scarred one?" Creolis gave his best attempt to pry information from the unforthcoming man.

 

"It’s the ears, and maybe my gauge of time is just off." He gave a quick retort in an attempt to divert the suspicion he could see developing within Creolis. He had no intention of giving away his secrets just yet.

 

Creolis eyed him suspiciously, not entirely buying his story. They sat in silence a bit when a shorter slender female Broslak entered. Wordlessly she brought forth a platter carrying two large ornate bowls of steaming stew. She sat them down then quickly scurried from the tent. Taking his Creolis gave it an investigative sniff. The aroma was strong. Having been seasoned with spicy herbs unknown to him, along with large chunks of meat and a sparse few vegetables. This did not surprise him; they looked like they subsided mostly on meat, a thought that for some reason disturbed him greatly. The smell caused his stomach to rumble loudly, forcing him to realize how hungry he really was. He devoured the hot soup, savoring the succulent flavors. He set it aside after finishing the last few drops off.

 

"So what exactly is a Monikai?" His hunger relieved after the meal he was now curious for more information.

 

"Its a giant lizard like creature, walks on four legs, about the size of two sometimes three horses. Huge horns and a barbed tail with an elongated snout and a double row of huge razor sharp teeth." Elris said with a half smile, "Not something you want to find yourself alone with in a dark alley."

 

"This really isn't the time to joke around is it Elris? This thing sounds nasty." The fear glinted eerily, an unusual thing in a combat trained knight.

 

"These." he said his smile broadening. “They're pack hunters. So there will be at least three or four of them."

 

"Oh how wonderful. Things just keep going from bad to worse. So what exactly did you try to invoke that pissed him off so much?" A lump formed in his stomach, though he was unsure if it was the stew, or a feeling of dread at Elris’ revelation about the Monikai that was causing his distress.

 

"Their clan owes me protection. The last time I was here, I helped Dwenoil save a group of their tribe's hatchlings. I will not be denied what is owed, it will be fulfilled."

 

"How can you be so incredibly nonchalant about this? You just told me they intend to feed us to a bloodthirsty pack of Monikai and yet you sit here as if you don’t have a care in the world. For some reason, I feel like you're not telling me something.” His voice was flat, though he was obviously quite irritated with his companion.

 

Elris smiled at the obstinate behavior, the smile turned into a full-blown laugh as he thought to himself. "Remember what I said about old men and their secrets."

 

The evening passed slowly. With nothing to do, they simply sat there waiting. They had not even been told when this ceremony was supposed to take place; Elris however assured him that it would take place early in the morning. The news was not comforting. He sat there, not only bored but also with a sense of dread beginning to fill him. He tried to ease his own mind with thoughts of home and warmth and family. Try as he might though, his mind kept wandering back to visions of enormous rampaging lizard like creatures goring him.

 

Eventually he finally lapsed into an uneasy sleep. Within a few minutes of nodding off, he would begin to slump over. The sensation of falling would immediately awaken him, causing him to jerk up quickly. The restraints on his wrists had begun to chafe. He had given up on trying to get them loose and instead focused on moving as little as possible. The festivities in the village had begun to die down; the music had ended abruptly some time ago. The guards however, still stood resolute at the entrance, neither moving nor talking. Creolis wanted to sleep but was unable to get comfortable enough to drift off completely. Elris sat in the same position he had maintained for the last few hours. It amazed Creolis how disciplined he could be. He was almost statuesque.

 

Despite his discomfort, he did again manage to drift off again. He was awakened by a very subtle sound. It barely registered in his half awakened mind at first. Coming to quickly, he realized it was a slow shearing sound. The light of the hearth had died down to a low amber glow. Looking over he saw that Elris was indeed, as he expected, still awake. He questioned whether he ever really slept at all. He tried to decipher which direction the noise was coming from, and soon estimated that it must be coming from behind him. Terror began to build in his nerves, raising hackles on the back of his neck. He was sure that some monstrous creature was at this moment tearing its way into the tent, intent on devouring them alive. He sat helplessly considering in that moment, screaming for the guards. Only after looking over at Elris face, calm and patient in the fire's dying light did he exert restraint on himself.

 

The sound stopped suddenly. Into the low light stepped the oddest-looking Broslak he had seen yet. The figure was obviously male, though shorter then the rest of the males he had seen. In general he looked much like the others, what made his appearance quite strange was his coloring. Unlike the glossy to dull black coloring of the scales the rest possessed, his were colored a pale pastel off white. Creolis just stared in wonder. The creature said nothing, just silently moving across to Elris. At first Creolis was still worried that death had come for them, until he saw the nod of approval exchanged between the two. A slender taloned hand extended outwards, severing the bindings about Elris' hands. Afterwards he freed a confused Creolis as well, and led them silently out the back of their prison.

 

Everyone must have been sleeping this late except for their guards and those keeping watch over the village itself. Moving stealthily, they followed their strange colored savior, who obviously knew the schedules of the scouts. Within just a few tense minutes, they were safely beyond the edges of the village. Here they began a mad dash following the newcomer as quickly as they could manage into the darkness of the bog. A short time later panting heavily, they stopped. The huge bonfire of the village had faded from view, even in the depth of the night. Creolis leaned heavily against a tree, unable to speak for lack of breath. The three looked at each other in silence as their breathing slowed.

 

Elris and the Broslak clasped each other’s wrist in a warriors embrace nodding at each other. "Desoil. It has been so long. Look at you." Elris smiled broadly, only a faint hint of breathlessness in voice. “All grown up I see.”

 

Desoil managed a jagged toothy smile as well, "You as well. In fact, I can't say that you have changed at all."

 

Creolis noticed right away that this warrior was more refined then his larger counterparts. He spoke the common tongue with an ease his brethren seemed to lack. Though, at this point Creolis was forced to interrupt them, "Anyone mind clueing me in to what is going on?"

 

"Creolis, Desoil. Desoil, Creolis." he made introductions, Desoil nodding as if the simple statement explained everything.

 

"Yes, I got that. Why did he save us? How do you know him?" The irritation once again creeping into Creolis’ tone as the two shared some unknown secret

 

"No time. Come on." Desoil said shortly as he took off once again into the swampy mess. This time they went only a short way before stopping again. Desoil moved off to a large pile of seemingly dead brush and began tossing it aside. Motioning towards it, the other two followed. To their amazement, all of the gear that had been confiscated from them was laid out neatly before them.

 

"I figured you would not want to leave your things behind. So I gathered them first. Otherwise I would have freed you sooner." Desoil formed what Creolis could only call an attempt at a smiling laugh.

 

   The two quickly gathered their things, "We do appreciate it old man." Elris smiled lightly at his inside joke.

 

"So, back to my question. What in Renad's name is going on?" Creolis wanted to yell; instead, fearing pursuit it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

 

Desoil look at Creolis oddly, as though he was being blasphemous, "I saved you because I promised the scarred one."

 

"Creolis now isn't really the time for this. Soon an encampment of Broslak are going to discover we are missing, and you leave a trail like a trampling cow that an infant could follow." said Elris in a dismissive tone, interrupting Creolis’ train of thought.

 

"Soon we will make time. I’m about fed up with all of your secrecy." Creolis fumed lightly, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. He however could not argue further, Elris was not wrong.

 

The three moved at a breakneck speed, expertly led through the confusing marshes by Desoil. Ducking through trails, even Elris’ with all his expertise would have surely missed. By dawn, the rain had all but stopped, and they had traveled further then Creolis thought possible. No doubt, they would reach the river in no time at all. Eventually they were forced to stop for a short break, the stamina of the lizard folk was not inexhaustible.

 

"Dwenoil is old and his memory has grown old with him. That is why he didn't believe me." Elris began to rant off quickly, before Creolis could once again voice the questions brewing in his mind.

 

"So what does that have to do with him?" A finger nonchalantly pointed towards Desoil as if he was unable to speak for himself.

 

"Because, my memory is still sharp. I still remember my promise to the scarred one." Desoil interjected not wanting to be left out of the conversation, since it was about him,   "However, I never expected it to take forty years."

 

Elris rubbed the back of his head, looking as if he wished Desoil had not said that, "Desoil was one of the hatchlings I saved."

 

"So how old are you Elris? You don't look much older then thirty five or so," his attempts to pry into the background of his elusive friends past unending.

 

Elris laughed it off, much like he always did, "I'm much older then I look. I have aged rather gracefully."

 

"So older then father?" Thinking to his father, who was just slightly past his fiftieth year now.

 

"Yes, a bit older then him." A slight glint shone in Elris’ eyes, as though it were only a partial truth that he spoke.

 

"This detour into Reastro then. It wasn't an accident was it? You planned on coming here the whole damn time didn't you?" Creolis belted out annoyed that his friend seemingly caused the entire situation.

 

"Of course not. I would never do a thing like that. Lets just call it, a happy coincidence." A smile twinkled in his eyes.

 

"Well now what do we do?" Asked Creolis, not sure that he wanted to know the answer. What if an enraged horde of lizard men came after them he wondered, though he left the thought unvoiced.

 

"We continue as planned. Though now I think, we will have to take Desoil with us."

 

"Yes. I will not be welcome back amongst my people. I have defied the chief, not that I was ever really well thought of to begin with." Bitterness carried in his tone as he spoke, "The peculiarity of my scales has always marked me as an outcast. I doubt I would go back even if I could not join you. I feel my time there has ended."

 

Elris perked up at this a bit, but said nothing, secretly glad his plan was coming to fruition. Creolis was actually quite excited. He had heard many tales of the Broslak but had never seen one in person. Let alone one as different as Desoil, with his odd colored scales. Traveling with him would be refreshing. He was certain they could teach each other many new and interesting things. After their short hiatus, they began again. They traveled steadily southeast, always vigilant for signs of Desoil's people in pursuit of them. Once again, they fell into a routine that was much the same each day, but at least the food was better. Desoil had spent his entire life in the swamp, and with his expertise and knowledge, the meals were more plentiful, and more satisfying.

   

Chapter 5: Signs

On the fifth day, they stopped again, but only after extensive complaining from Creolis. He was exhausted, his feet hurt, he was hungry, and he needed sleep. The list went on and on. Finally, the others grudgingly gave in. They made a camp, having decided a few days before that Dwenoil must have held his people in check. Despite their excellent progress, a well-trained search party would have overtaken them by now.

 

Desoil vanished into the tangled bogs of the swamp, returning with several large birds, which Creolis could not identify. They already had gotten a roaring fire going, and after all things were said and done, they relaxed to a very enjoyable roast fowl that evening. Desoil and Elris readily agreed to take the first watches, giving their complaining companion ample time to recover before he was forced to take his turn. Within minutes, Creolis was curled up in his cloak snoring peacefully. Elris poked at the fire absentmindedly, while Desoil picked bits of flesh from his teeth with a taloned finger.

 

"Are you going to explain?" Elris started after he was sure Creolis was sound asleep.

 

"What do you mean?" A single hairless brow rose as he asked. It almost looked sincere.

 

"We could have reached the river by now." It was not a question more a statement of a known fact that had been hidden.

 

Desoil laughed, though it had a slight hissing sound to it, "For a pale one, you know these lands quite well. Much better then this one." He motioned at Creolis' sleeping form.

 

"That isn't an answer."

 

"No, I suppose it isn't." he almost sighed, "Very well. I have always remembered when you saved us, and never forgotten my promise. It was just something I knew I would one day have to do. That was until my Sempai."

 

Elris nodded in understanding. The Sempai was the ritual vision quest for Broslak adulthood. In this right of passage, the Broslak would travel deep into the swamps, and drink a poultice of a root that was unknown to any but them. They were not allowed to return to the village until they had seen visions of what Drnae had in store for their life.

 

"My quest led me to an ancient temple. It was hewn from stone in a fashion that my people had never learned to do. Yet, our language was carved all upon it. The structure was older than I can imagine, the writing of our people weathered and unreadable upon it. It was overgrown and I would never have even noticed it had it not been for the trancelike state I was in due to the Sempai." He stared at the fire, drifting off in his mind back to the event, "I entered the temple and knew right away I was in the presence of my ancestors; there was just an ancient presence, almost like an invisible power pulsating through the place. It was dark inside, and not overly large. A voice spoke to me from within, though I could not see it."

 

"Silver One, Son of my sons. You've come at last,” the voice said to me.

 

"I was frightened, the legends of our people regarding the Silver One are very sacred."

 

"It is not yet time for your rising, but soon it shall be. When your promise is fulfilled return to me, and take your place among the great chieftains of our people." It spoke again to me.

 

"I didn't understand then, and I was in terror. I fled but I never forgot. Over the years since, I have thought about my Sempai many times. It wasn't until you showed up in our village, that I understood. This was the sign of my Sempai, the promise to keep. And now. Now I return to that dreadful place. To keep an unspoken promise." Desoil finished and was staring at Elris, looking for signs of shock or disbelief.

 

He found none. Elris simply smiled as he always did. "I understand."

 

A dubious look crossing his face, "You do?"

 

"Of course. If anyone knows about keeping promises, it’s me." The mirth slid away from his face as he said this, as if some sad memory had crept its way to the front of his mind. "But, I would appreciate it if you mentioned none of this to our slumbering friend. He’s already had enough shocks lately, I’m not sure he could handle anymore." Desoil nodded solemnly. Elris smiled again adding more wood to the fire. "Do wake me when it’s my turn for the watch." He said lightly, as he stretched himself out for a well-deserved rest.

 

The night slipped away to morning uneventfully. Creolis awoke the two gently just after dawn, having reheated the leftover fowl from the night before. They ate quietly, nothing of the conversation between Elris and Desoil being mentioned from the night before. They headed out soon after breakfast; ready to get a fast start to the day laid out before them. They continued to the southeast at a brisk pace, the sun lazily making its slow climb upwards into the sky.

 

By the middle of the afternoon, Desoil had slowed noticeably. Creolis had a feeling that something was worrying the unusually quiet lizard folk. Elris knew there was. They continued, the oppressively wet air pressing down on them. Not long after they came to a large rock formation. It was ancient and worn down, massive tangles of ivy covering it from bottom to top. Strange writings were carved into the few exposed surfaces, though they had been weathered for unknown ages, and were no longer decipherable. The three stopped near it, just staring. A sense of power seemed to be awash around them.

 

Desoil crept slowly forward, right up to the edge of the structure. He tentatively placed a hand upon its water washed surface. All sounds around them ceased. Birds no longer sang, the croaking of frogs stopped; even the buzzing of small insects had come to a halt. It was as if this place was holy, and the animals had silenced themselves in reverence. Creolis could feel the energy of the place, causing the hairs of his arms to stand on end. Desoil seemed lost in thought, remembering the last time he had set eyes upon this place.

 

"We must enter." It came out as almost a whisper. Desoil moved following the wall, his hand sliding gracefully across it as he moved to the far side.

 

After a little searching, they found a small entrance. It had expertly been covered with brush, as though it had purposefully been disguised. Elris mentioned as much, urging caution. Creolis quickly constructed a makeshift torch, as the others carefully removed the debris. They entered the narrow passage, having to duck down as they did. The entrance itself was just a short hallway, maybe five feet in length. Creolis took the lead, using the torch for light. The hallway opened up into an oval chamber. Torchlight spilled through the room, cast a dull glow across the interior. Four stone pillars formed a square at the center, supporting the ceiling. At the far end of the room sat a large sarcophagus. It was simple in its stone construction. Atop the tomb sat a large stone throne. Upon the stone throne sat a carved figure in white marble. It resembled the Broslak in many ways, but the proportions were somehow off. Though mostly protected from the elements, it showed many signs of weathering. The sharp features of the face had long since worn away, clawed fingers worn down to smooth edges.

 

Desoil sniffed the air. A faint putrid metallic odor assaulting his senses, "It smells of fresh blood in here."

 

Using his nose, he followed the smell slowly, the other two following closely with the light. Quickly they discovered a large patch of brownish-red dried blood on the floor near a wall. Someone had been grievously been injured here. No blood smears lined the floor. Someone else had obviously returned afterward to remove whomever the victim had been. Elris and Creolis continued to investigate for other signs of intrusion within the chamber. Desoil however had stopped and was staring at statue. He was sure it depicted the Silver One, the holy leader of the Broslak in times beyond remembering.

 

He moved slowly towards it, laying a hand reverently on the tomb. He half smiled at himself, wondering how long this tomb had been lost to his people. Was it possible that it really was the Silver One's tomb? Hundreds of questions bounced around his mind as he gazed deferentially upon it. His mind racing, he kept coming back to thought of his Sempai years before. The ghostly voice was no longer here, but he could still feel the power of the place flowing through him.

 

"My promise is fulfilled, I have returned." He declared boldly to the room, the other two looked up at him. Seconds later a powerful energy rippled through the room, causing the ground to shake violently for just a moment. Small bits of debris and dirt rained down on them from the ceiling. The rumbling continued but Elris and Creolis had no time to be concerned with it. An arrow whizzed through the entrance flying right between the two. Apparently, whoever had disturbed the tomb before was nearby, and the commotion had alerted them to their presence.

 

The two quickly ran down the narrow entrance and dove out, drawing their weapons as they tumbled. The sight outside surprised them both. Formed in a semi circle were nearly fifteen armed men, the strange deformed faces of the Jergan locked into snarls. Several had arrows knocked and ready to fire. Creolis reacted immediately the pale blue light flared up his body, and then shot outward forming a hazy shield around the two. Several bows twanged instantly in response. Creolis shuddered visibly as the arrows bounced harmlessly off the aura surrounding them. The enemies before them were obviously quite surprised, never having seen any demonstration of the Adrari powers. They quickly abandoned their bows in favor of edged weapons, for which Creolis was very grateful. Deflecting missiles with his mind was very draining.

 

Even without the bows to fret over, worry showed on their faces. The odds were heavily stacked against them. Though they were both quite skilled, a single lucky blow was all it would take. Each seemed to know this instinctively, as they turned on opponents with their backs to each other.

 

Within the tomb, the haze of the debris had begun to settle from the air. Desoil had been distracted by the events at the entrance. He watched his friends charge from the tomb. Saw the arrow lying on the ground near him. He chose not to follow. He turned back as the rumbling began to subside followed by a huge crashing noise. Looking over he was intrigued. The force of the shaking had toppled over the throne and statue above the tomb, taking the sarcophagus' cover with it. They all lay in pieces on the floor, broken from the force of the fall.

 

He moved closer, peering inside cautiously. It seemed empty to him, nothing but a fine powder coating the inside. All that remained of its occupant after so long. Then the flickering torchlight glinted off something within. Desoil fetched the torch, feeling as though time had slowed. Inside the dusty tomb was a beautiful crown. It appeared delicately crafted of gold and silver, two small ornately carved spiraling peaks nearly touching tips. Sparkling sapphires adorned its rim starting from the outer ridge moving in, each one growing in size until the center, where a nearly fist sized one blazed with its own inner fire. Desoil stood transfixed, his gaze caught in the brilliance of it. His free hand reached out involuntarily, longingly caressing the edge of it.

 

Outside the two battled for their lives. Three attackers lay dead around them. Blood trickled slowly down a thin gash On Elris' forearm, a lucky blow that had managed to skirt past his defenses. Blades rang out in a fury of blows as the two desperately defended themselves. The attackers were well trained. They came at them in fours, gnawing at their defenses. When they grew weary, they would move back, and another group would move in to try and finish them off. These waves of attacks were demoralizing to them, each round of attacks were calculated and refreshed. While theirs became frantic and worn down with each parried thrust. Creolis staggered a moment, the ghostly blade of his Ejora winking out as exhaustion began to overtake him. One assailant let out a piercing cry, clutching the stump of his now missing hand, stumbling away as another attacked stepped in to take his place. Elris grimaced as he knocked away another blade. They were too tired to go on the offensive, and faced to many enemies to defend much longer. He knew that this is where they were going to die.

 

The Jergan began to advance all together now, figuring their prey had tired themselves out sufficiently. The two looked grim, side-by-side, awaiting their final charge. Everything stopped as a feral roar issued forth from behind the two. The Jerga fell back a step as something burst forth with blinding speed from the tomb. It blew past the two on all four, and hurtled itself into the attackers. The two weary combatants watching with a mix of awe and terror.

 

The creature that bolted from the opening was like some miniature dragon from a child’s nightmare. Easily the size of two men, covered head to toe in brilliant silver scales Large goring horns adorned its head, bat-like leathery wings were tucked along its back. A long tail down its backside, two large spikes jutting out nearly six inches from the tip. The strangest feature was the hands, each clawed finger ending in a dagger like blade of different length.

 

The creature leapt from all four towards the nearest Jergan, landing with his taloned feet on the man's chest riding the stunned man to the ground. He let the momentum carry him forward and leapt forward hands extended in a bladed wall of death, shredding the mortified man as he crashed into him. He stood and stared are the remaining Jergan. Mouth opened in a snarl of vicious teeth, saliva dripping from its maw. The remaining attackers overcame their shock and turned on the new threat, moving in weapons raised. They circled around him, coming in from all angles. Two came in at once from the front, one going low the other high. Both attacks were knocked wide as a third tried stepping in from behind. His tail flicked out instinctively taking the attacker in the lower jaw. Thick muscles flexed and threw him with a spray of blood into two in front of him. Another came at him from the side with a vicious lunge. He turned grabbing the blade with a bare hand forcing the man to a dead stop, and then gave a strong jerk pulling the struggling man to him. His other hand was waiting all five fingers extended as he plunged them into his screaming face with unbridled rage. With a inhuman sound, the man slid lifelessly to the ground, a bloodcurdling roar emanating from the creature.

 

The few remaining Jergan gave up, they scattered into the bogs with amazing speed, obviously horrified at the carnage they had just witnessed, not willing to face the creature any longer. Elris and Creolis stood warily watching the panting creature as it stood surveying its surroundings, waiting for it turn its bloodthirsty eyes on them. It paused when it found them, before slumping to the ground. Before their eyes, the creature seemed to melt in upon itself, features twisting and changing quickly. Spikes left the tail. The wings melted away leaving a smooth flawless back. Bladed fingers becoming nothing more then regular claws. Even the horns shrank to small nubs adorning his head. Before them now lay the figure of Desoil, though the odd off white coloring stayed the brilliant shade of silver. His two companions just stood there in shock.

 

Several hours later, and with as much distance as they could put from the tomb carrying their unconscious friend. They sat about a small campfire, neither of them eating or speaking. Desoil slumbered nearby, the firelight glistening on his mirror-like scales. Eventually he began to stir, blinking his eyes trying to adjust to the fire lit darkness. "What happened? Where are we?" He started slowly grabbing for a water skin and drinking deep draughts from it.

 

The others looked at him wide eyed with surprise. "You don't remember?" they said in unison.

 

He shook his head slowly, "The last thing I remember was the tomb shaking and you two running out. Then the sarcophagus smashed open and there was this crown inside."

 

"Crown?" Elris instantly perked up. Deep within he had suspected as much, though he had held his hopes in reserve.

 

"Yes, it was beautiful. I felt like it was meant for me." A glint fluttered through his eyes as though he were spellbound thinking of it.

 

"So where is it?" Creolis chimed in.

 

"I put it on. Did it fall off?" He franticly reached to his head feeling for the crown. Where the horns were seemed to shimmer as they vanished, replaced with the ornate crown of which he spoke.

 

Creolis cocked his head to the side, jaw slightly gaping, "Well that’s different. Elris, what do you make of that?"

 

Elris had jumped up, the look of utter disbelief plain for all to see on his face. He began pacing back and forth muttering to himself. After a minute, he collected himself and managed to sit. "Unless I'm mistaken, which I seriously doubt. I believe that is the Helm of Elia," The shock still apparent on his face. "Please put it back on Desoil."

 

He quickly did as was asked. Once again, it seemed to melt away, replaced by the two small horns about his head. Desoil touched them gingerly, assuring himself that they were real and solid. They were. "This is unbelievable. We must hurry to Amlily. If this is really one of the Lost Eight, The Loremaster will be able to tell us more." He volunteered promptly, as though he was clueless.

 

They agreed hastily that they would find the Reastro River and follow it south. The river flowed directly through Amlily, traveling along the river would lead them right to the city. Desoil having rested volunteered eagerly to keep watch that night. Both impressed and grateful that they had carried him from the battle, despite being exhausted from it themselves.

Chapter 6: Across The Way

The sun crept lazily into the sky the next morning. A world away, over the shining city of Thyrinn, a quiet marketplace burst to life in the early morning. The sounds of shopkeepers hawking their wares and the general hustle of people going about their morning routines resounded through the air sharply. Mixed in amongst the crowds were the robed figures of the temples, the long flowing capes of the different ranks of Adrari, and the engraved leather armored figures of the city watch.

 

The city itself, the largest in the nation, was built to resemble a large wheel. The market sat at the center of the city, with large avenues leading off in every direction. Most of the gods of the Thyrinnian people was represented here, each having its own large self contained temple district. Each was almost a city within itself. To the north of the market was the largest district, housing the Adrari complex. In-between the market and the large districts, sat the housing section of the city. Where those working or in dedication had their dwellings, numerous taverns and inns also lined these avenues, except those that looked down upon living in excess.

 

Amongst the hum of activity in the market, a figured dashed through the crowd with practiced ease. A swarthy sweating stall owner smiled as the figure dashed up to him. Before him stood a young woman, dressed in well-worn tattered clothing. She was tall and lithe, for her age, appearing no more then seventeen. Tattered clothing hid her curves well, causing her to appear a younger then she actually is.   Her deep red hair was as unkempt as her wardrobe, falling in half tangled masses down her back. A long full singular bang over each eye, danced about her face, nearly concealing her pale green eyes, and thick flirtatious lashes.

 

"Breakfast sir?" She inquired with a teasing smile that tugged at one corner of her pink lips. She had learned quickly how to use her womanly wiles, easily soliciting what she wanted from those around her, giving nothing in return.

 

"Ah good morning to you as well miss Kaelina." He said tossing her a ripe red apple. "Ere' you go little lady, better I feed you then to have you rifling from the other merchants again." He scolded her half-heartedly.

 

Her smile grew as she caught it, knowing that should she desire more delectable food could be as easily procured. She gave him a wave of thanks as she again dashed off into the crowd. The apple was delicious she thought as she took a large bite, enjoying the crisp sweetness of it. She returned waves to several of the usual people, being a well-known nuisance among the citizens as she moved with purpose, heading towards the Avenue of Siladia. This district was dedicated to Siladia, goddess of healing, a place she visited almost on a daily basis. She had no real home, an orphan of the city she was, surviving on the kindness of the temple and their devotee's over the years. It did not seem to bother her overly much. Why be bothered by things you had no memory of she had once told a priest when asked how she could always be so optimistic.

 

The throng of people thinned as she made her way down the avenue. As a general rule the priesthoods tended to keep to their own, and the general populace only came for worship or if they had business. A small group of priests, shrouded in their robes passed by, not even bothering to glance at her. The priesthood was used to the orphans and gave no thought to her as long as she stayed out of trouble. She searched their faces as she passed though, anticipating her usual rendezvous. It did not take long, when she spotted him down the way. He was coming from the large polished granite temple of Siladia from his morning devotions. She raced towards him, tossing the apple core to the side as she ran.

 

The priest before wore the robes of an acolyte that had attained the rank of journeyman within the priesthood. His hood was pulled back, enjoying the brisk winter chill that had settled over the land several weeks earlier. He was not overly tall, standing not quite six feet. Even with the oversized robes adorning his body, she could tell he was very well muscled. His shaggy sandy blonde hair hung loosely about his head, smiling dark green eyes looking on at the girl as she ran towards him.

 

"Good morning Kaelina." He said not surprised to see her appear before him, it was common for her to find him each morning. He reached out and ruffled her hair a little.

 

"Dearn, stop that you'll mess my hair up." She complained half heartedly smoothing it back out as best she could. A genuine smile resting on her face, she considered Dearn her best friend. No one else in all her years in the city had ever been as kind as he had.

 

He laughed a little at this; "Maybe I should have some of the ladies round you up for a bath, and then maybe they can do something with that mess you call hair."

 

She gave him a disgusted look, her distaste for the ladies that forced the ragamuffins of the city to appear clean apparent on her lovely if somewhat dirty face. "They would have to catch me first."

 

With a shrug, he nodded knowing it was the truth; he once had been endlessly amused when he saw the ladies chasing several of the orphans through the city. "Well if you insist on pestering me this morning, you can walk with me to the assembly. Unfortunately, I must attend the council with master Atrimez today." She groaned with the same distaste that he felt. Politics was something he had no great love of. She fell into step with him as they strolled off towards the great hall of the Adrari. "What mischief have you been causing this morning?"

 

"Me? Mischief?" she asked, feigning injured pride, "None of course, besides the vendor Wallis gave me breakfast this morning, and the day is just starting." A coy grin spread swiftly across her face at her small joke.

 

A distasteful look upon his face, “Now Kaelina, don’t go getting into trouble while I’m attending council. We wouldn't want the city watch chasing you about again. Would we?"

 

She laughed a little at this, skipping ahead of him fancifully. "I enjoy my freedom to much for that."

 

Dearn chuckled a bit, watching her prance about. Though she was known as a tomboy, Dearn knew that deep down she considered herself a lady in waiting. Perhaps she would rise above her station he thought and become the refined lady he knew she wanted to be. Unfortunately he somewhat doubted it, the orphans were looked upon by the general populace as third rate citizens and only to be tolerated, not helped. Even the clergy were sometimes judgmental of them despite their supposed piousness. "So what other trouble are you going to get into today?"

 

“What do you mean trouble? We’re not going to get into trouble.” She replied flippantly referring to the other orphans who generally spent their days wandering the city without care. Doing as they pleased, with the occasional time spent begging from the citizens or unlucky travelers.

 

“Just remember Kaelina, the Gods and Goddesses are always watching you. Everything you do reflects upon them. So unless you’ve decided to devote yourself to Labrif, the God of Frivolity, I suggest you keep you antics to a minimum.”

 

She snorted at this as they continued through the market, turning down the grandiose avenue leading to the great hall of the Adrari. Dearn knew she had no love of religion. She was of course grateful for the care shown to her by the different priesthoods over the years. Yet, she could never bring herself to fall in line with their beliefs. They just did not work for her. The idea of someone or something beyond herself, controlling her destiny, she found the entire idea quite ludicrous. Only she was in control of her life, no one else.

 

Upon reaching the hall, Dearn bid her farewell. She smiled, promising to visit him again later that day. Dearn shook his head as she pranced off. He hoped she would stay out of trouble. He considered her overall, a good child. The two made an odd pairing of friends, and were constantly seen with each other, at least when Dearn was able to get free time from his duties within the priesthood. Yes, she was definitely a good kid, if somewhat misguided in his opinion. He had met her when he first came to the city several years ago to devote himself to Siladia. His Adrari tutor at that time had been very cross with him about his decision, calling it a horrendous waste of potential. Apparently the tutor had never had a pupil that had shown as much natural talent as Dearn had, only to give it up for a life of service of Siladia. Yet the decision had not shocked his parents, he had always been a giving soul, quick to help those in need, especially the infirm and elderly.

 

Today, much to his chagrin was one of the duties that he detested to no end. Today was the weekly meeting of the council, and he was one of three journeymen that would be attending the Temple of Siladia representatives at the assembly. Each temple had three masters in attendance. The Adrari were the main power within Thyrinn, but in a show of unity, the various accepted religions were granted a degree of power as well. He scoffed inwardly at this as he entered the main hall. Power was an overstatement in his mind. The assemblies almost never actually solved any problems. Dearn considered it a dog and pony show, with all the real dealings being done behind closed doors and in backroom parlors. He dreaded sitting for hours, listening to the council argue about the news of the realm.

 

Master Atrimez was already seated in the hall, as were many of the other attendees. Dearn quietly shuffled over to Atrimez and gave him a light tap on the shoulder. The master glanced up briefly giving a nod in his direction. "Sorry for my tardiness. I ran into Kaelina on my way over." he said in a hushed tone.

 

The master seemed to roll his eyes a little. He knew of the young priests friendship with the orphan girl, even if he did not approve. Every priest has to have his project though. Something he was quite fond of saying to the younger initiates. "It's fine. Some of the Adrari are late arriving anyway."

 

It was Dearn's turn to roll his eyes, the Adrari, always treating others as inferiors and wasting time. It was one of the reasons that he had decided to dedicate to the temple rather than pursue his Adrari powers. His parents had been a bit disappointed by his choice, even if they were not surprised, but they allowed him to make it.

 

After a few more minutes, the last of the Adrari arrived. The meeting was called to order and business began in earnest. The topics varied widely, from merchant problems, all the way to patrols on the border of the Desolation, to simple city ordinances and social unrest within the other city-states. Nothing of great importance ever seemed to be discussed when he was forced to attend. He highly doubted it was any different any other time.

 

The Adrari had taken control after the old empire split apart a little over four hundred years before. The civil war that followed had several city-states vying for power on the eastern continent. Kynnory, Calleron, Amlily and Thyrinn had all be involved. Eventually after the destruction of the old capital Thrynmore, the Adrari had consolidated their power enough to claim dominion over the fractured nation. Knowing that their new hold over the lands was tenuous at best, they had instituted a representative government, with themselves at the head. The city-states were given a degree of anonymity and generally allowed to keep their own councils and rules, so long as they followed the overall lead of Thyrinn and its Adrari council. This at least gave the disenfranchised people some semblance of being in control of their own fate. Over the centuries that followed the Adrari had grown in power, with nothing but the power of the priesthood to challenge them. The Clergy's power was the only thing the Adrari respected, albeit grudgingly.

 

His mind drifted during the meeting, as it usually does. He tried to pay attention, but the dullness always caused it. He thought of the last time he had seen his family. It had been nearly four years now. He had rode off from Kynnory and the family farm with only a little sadness in his heart. Mostly he missed his brother, Creolis. After showing only a mediocre aptitude in the Adrari, he had apprenticed into the Kynnorian Knights, not surprising since his swordsmanship was excellent. The two had spent their youth working with their father’s horses, which coupled with the swordsmanship training Elris had given them prepared Creolis early on for a life in the knighthood. Sadly, it had been nearly two years since he had seen him. After attaining a full position within the knighthood, he had requested a position nearer to their home. Dearn hoped that one day, in the not to distant future, he could also garner a quiet position in the countryside. Somewhere he could get away from the dreary politics of the big city, and get back to what his true passion was, helping the people of Mris.

 

"And finally, onto the loss of contact with Fort Konway." The moderator announced loudly. This comment brought Dearn back to reality. He recognized the name right away, everyone knew of the fort that lay so close to Kynnory. He had even visited it once as a child. Loss of contact he thought to himself, considering it quite abnormal. At almost every post and in every city of decent size, a specialized member of the Adrari was stationed. This person was known as the Saluth Mendora, The Speaker of Minds, capable of using a special focus to enhance their natural Adrari powers and communicate with others similarly trained with their minds.

 

"We have no proof that anything is wrong. Communication lapses happen. Maybe the Saluth Mendora has fallen ill? Or possibly had an accident. It could very well be that a messenger has already been dispatched to alert us of this." Suggested someone from the other side of the room.

 

"No, we should send a scouting party to find out for ourselves." interrupted another.

 

"What of Kynnory? Why not message them and have them send someone? They are only a few days ride from the fort." Recommended yet another.

 

The voices all began to go at once, each trying to talk over the other. Each having their own idea of what the best course of action was. Some even began to declare that maybe the fort had been overrun, or worse they could be under invasion. Others discounted this theory loudly to the council. Dearn could tell there seemed to be legitimate concern in some of the voices. Rumors had been spreading through the different clergy recently Dearn knew. There were quiet whispers and rumors of strange creatures coming across the Desolation, and trying to sneak in the city. There was even reportedly increased activity of the foul creatures that inhabited that god-forsaken land. The priests of Kynny had recently been in an uproar about having to send extra patrols into the area. Putting lives of knights in jeopardy for simple patrols into the Desolation was one of their more unpopular jobs. The council seemed so caught up in its own little bureaucratic world that little was ever accomplished. Today would be no different. The assembly ended with a wait and see approach, with a promise that it would be brought up again at next weeks meeting. Dearn was sorely disappointed as he made his way back to the temple complex with Atrimez.

 

They entered the lavish chambers reserved for those that had attained the rank of master. It was decorated in the most recent styles, lush rugs; extravagant throw pillows littered the room. A plush couch in the common area, Atrimez took a seat slowly, his old bones releasing a groan as he did. Dearn grabbed a small glass from a nearby table, pouring the elder man a glass of scotch. "Ah, thank you Dearn. These tired old bones could use a stiff drink." He said taking the glass from Dearn.

 

"Sir, what is with the councils inaction?" a rueful displeased tone awash in his tone.

 

"Hmm?" Atrimez replied after draining the glass. Dearn noted he had always been overly fond of the drink, and nine out of ten times; it seemed to loosen his tongue when it came to discussing matters that were generally only privy to those of higher ranks.

 

"They talk and talk, but nothing ever gets done. What if something bad has actually happened at Fort Konway? The council should care more about the happenings of this nation, instead of worrying about their paltry lives of luxury. Even some of the Temples are guilty of overindulgence these days."

 

Atrimez waved off the comment, holding out the glass for a refill, "I'm sure everything is fine. What does it matter to you anyway?" In his aging state, it seemed as though he were forgetting small details about those he associated with.

 

"I'm from Kynnory remember? That's right near Fort Konway. Also my brother Creolis is a member of the Kynnorian and is stationed at that outpost." He refilled the glass, watching the elderly priest drain it again, the concern apparent in his voice.

 

"Oh, that's right. You'll have to forgive this old mans memory. It isn't what it used to be. I'm sure everything is perfectly fine. The Saluth Mendora probably just got injured somehow. You know how the Adrari are, always something happening to them eh?"

 

"I'm not so sure Atrimez. There have been a lot of strange rumors lately."

 

"Ah bother, there are always rumors of this and that around here. Its just talk."

 

"What about the extra patrols into the Desolation?"

 

Atrimez raised a faintly tipsy brow, "How did you know about those?"

 

"The lower acolytes do talk amongst themselves and the other temples you know.” He returned, a little aggravated that the high-ranking priest seemed to think that they were the only ones that knew anything.

 

"Still I'm sure it's nothing. I'm sure we will hear word from Fort Konway soon. Then you'll see everything is perfectly alright."

 

"I sure hope you're right. If you'll excuse me sir, the council has tired me. I'm going to retire for the evening."

 

"Yes, yes. Do close the door on your way out please." The elderly man said, retrieving the flask for another glass as he spoke offhandedly.

 

Dearn gave a slight nod and turned to leave. He noticed a shift in the shadows at the corner of the room. This stopped him for a second, as he sent a glance towards the ventilation grating. He heard a quiet scuttling noise. Shrugging it off as rats or some other creature he continued on, closing the door behind him. He rapidly made his way though the temple to the journeyman’s section of housing to retire for the evening. Thoughts of home and his brother worried at his mind awhile, as he stared out the small window of his room. While his thoughts attempted to unravel themselves, he lay staring at the moon Repik. It was just beginning its weeklong trek across the heavens, eventually managed to slip into his dreams for the evening.

Chapter 7: Scuttlebug

Kaelina kind of crab walked backwards in the shaft as she caught Dearn looking in her direction. She held her breath acutely waiting, wondering if he had actually seen her. Finally, he shrugged and left. She slowly let the breath leave her before turning to crawl back down the shaft. She had grown up on the streets. She knew every alley and passage through the city. She had spent years rooting them all out. That is how she discovered the ventilation ducts through the various temples. She had delighted at them, finding an easy way to traverse between and around the temples. Furthermore, she found that she could learn that which adults and figures in power generally kept from others.

 

She let herself out in the kitchen. It was vacant and dim in the late evening, all the cooking having been done for hours. People would return to prepare the morning meal, but for now, she helped herself to a small peach and a bun of sweet bread. She ducked into another shaft leading to the outside. She strolled hurriedly through the dimming light towards the Temple of Drnae.

 

It was where all the orphans stayed. Only a handful of clergy stayed at the temple. Drnae had long since fallen out of favor. At the height of his power though, Drnae had been the most worshipped god on Mris. After the War of Eight, he had slowly lost his followers. For some unknown reason, his clergy had lost all their powers after the war, and the once popular god no longer granted favors or answered the prayers of those that still believed. Only the great histories, and those that still had faith, kept the memory of him alive. Many feared a repeat of the war, and so his temple was allowed, even if it remained mostly unused. The clergy of Drnae were kindly though. They refused to participate in the council and had unofficially adopted the cities unwanted orphans. She waved to the few people still about as she made her way through the temple. It was very simple in construction. A plain mortared stone complex. Even the furnishing were bare bones, the priesthood requiring nothing of what few patrons it had. Kaelina smiled to herself as she made her way to her small room, of all the gods the liked Drnae the best. His followers and priests were the only ones that were truly pious in her eyes, and to her, this was the way men of the cloth should be.

 

Her room was little more then a closet. It bothered her not though, she was used to it. A small bed and table were its only furnishing. She kept it clean, despite her rather unkempt appearance. She figured it was the least she could do for the people that had saw fit to look after her as she grew up. Settling onto the bed, she took a large mouthwatering bite of the peach. Questions raced through her mind. She had known about the increased patrols, but did it really mean anything. She did not know that Dearn had a brother in the knighthood. She of course knew he had family back in Kynnory, but he never talked about them. He was always elusive about his past, but then again, she had never really pressed him on the issue. After her small meal, she laid back licking the sweetness of the bread from her fingers, thoughts swirling with trepidation in her mind. Something just did not feel quite right to her, and she always trusted her instincts.

 

She had drifted off into a fitful sleep, her unconscious mind flooding her with appalling images. It was something else she had grown used to. It had started when she was much younger, terrible dreams that would wake her in the night. They were so lifelike and vivid she would come too terrified and screaming. The priests had always come to her side when it happened, whispering soothing words to calm her. She had long since become accustomed to it and no longer woke to them. This dream came upon her much like the others, a deep redness in her vision that slowly cleared. She found herself standing amidst a raging battle. She looked around through her hazy vision. She could almost make out the men fighting around her, though they paid her no attention as if she was not really there. The screams of dieing men echoed in her ears. Strange disfigured men fought with what appeared to be Kynnorian Knights in full battle regalia. Her horror intensified at she turned her gaze up to the stone walls. Hordes of the strange men were pouring over the wall in waves. One landed on the ground dead near her, another on his feet. His blade drawn, she was sure he had seen her as he released a battle cry and charged. She shielded her face, expecting her death to be imminent. The creature passed right through her, engaging a knight that was standing nearby behind her. He died in a bloody defiant mass of murdered flesh. It seemed to her that most of the defenders of this place were dead or dieing. The invaders had begun setting fire to the buildings, and the screams had become infrequent.

 

She awoke with a start, sitting up in her bed gasping for air. Cold sweat poured from her as she burst into tears. She had not even realized it was a dream it seemed so real. Even the smell of smoke seemed to linger in the air. As she sobbed, she realized that the smell was not clearing from her mind. It was only then that she realized that she did indeed smell something burning. A horrified scream interrupted her crying. It was distant, but still within the compound. She stifled another sob as she cautiously approached the door.

 

In the open hall smoke wafted slowly across the ceiling. Another scream echoed through the corridor. She took off running towards the scream, wondering what was going on. Her mind recoiled against her, urging her to run the other way. She ignored it rounding a corner to see an elderly priest being assaulted viciously by a hooded figure. The man lay bleeding against the stone wall, his cries of pain fading to a low sob. Kaelina screamed at him to stop, which drew the creature’s attention to her. It turned quickly throwing back its hood and snarled angrily at her. She stared in shock, eyes going wide at the disfigured man before her. She backpedaled quickly as it rushed her, and stumbled over her own feet falling to the ground. As the man reached her, she shielded herself, thinking back to the dream in that instance. It reached out and grabbed her by the hair, violently jerking her to her feet. She cried out struggling feebly. He thrust her against the wall leaning close enough to her face that she could smell his foul breath.

 

"Where is it?" He hissed hatefully into her face, his wiry black hair bouncing as he spoke.

 

She had no idea what the creature was talking about. She shut her eyes, turning her head from his foul odor. She thrust out a hand, attempting to push the creature away from her. Suddenly she felt the hand clenching her hair grow lax, and then release her. She slid along the wall, not daring to open her eyes. After a few moments she dared a peek, and found the creature that had assaulted her lying prone on the floor. It laid inert spasming on the floor; smoke seemed to rise from its body. The smell of burnt hair and sizzling flesh washed over her, nearly gagging her. Confused she stood and ran.

 

By now bells sounded in the distance, growing closer as the cities warning alarms were sounded for the first time in nearly four hundred years. She reached the entrance, eyes blurry as she cried. A figure stepped into view; cause her to stop suddenly, fearful that another of the strange men had found her. She wiped away a tear and looked again, relieved to see the insignia of the city watch on the man's uniform. She took off again barreling right past the guard, ignoring his frantic cries for her to halt. More guards passed her on the way to temple of Drnae, ignoring her as they rushed towards the complex. She spared a glance back. Smoke poured from the building, a reddish glow lit the late night sky in places where the flames had erupted from the buildings.

 

Dearn had awoken to the sound of alarm bells, a strange event in and of itself. A novice priest, whom Dearn did not recognize appeared in the entryway of his room looking anxious. He informed him that there were reports that the temple of Drnae had been attacked and was burning, before vanishing into the corridor. Instantly Dearn was on his feet. He barely took the time to slip on his sandals before running towards the entrance, his thoughts on Kaelina and the other orphans. His mind raced as he headed out of the temple and started down the long avenue. Many others crowded the streets making their way over as well. Such an unusual ruckus rousing the inhabitants of the city even at this late hour, most just trying to find out what was going on. He nearly missed her in the throng of people, but she saw him. Kaelina rushed him as he skidded to a stop near her. She hugged him, tears trailing small dirt smudges down her face.

 

"It was so terrible," she managed between sobs hugging herself to him as tightly as she could manage, her body shaking with fear as her mind replayed the events.

 

He embraced her gently, patting her head. "It's ok, you're safe now." He assured her.

 

"I know but there was." Her voice trailed off as she remembered the dream as well and burst into another round of sobs.

 

He held her a little tighter, trying not to let the worry show on his face, "I know, try not to think about it Kaelina. Just go to my quarters and wait for me please."

 

She clung to him harder now at the thought of being parted, "I don't want to." She cried.

 

"You have to. You'll be safe there; I have to go to Drnae's temple. It's my duty to assist if I can." She nodded and left hesitantly, heading to his room as asked. Dearn continued on his way towards the temple. Already crowds of onlookers had gathered about. Those of the watch not inside, stood around maintaining a perimeter, to keep the onlookers from interfering and possibly hurting themselves. Dearn pushed his way through the crowds, only to be stopped by a guardsman. He quickly explained whom he was and was permitted to enter. The inside of the temple was controlled chaos. The fires had mostly been put out, and no sign of the attackers could be seen. Kynnorian Knights had been some of the first to arrive with the watch, and according to accounts, they engaged in a pitched battle with the assailants. Wounded and dead were being brought forth from the temple, as others continued to battle the few remaining blazes within. Dearn tended the wounded, calling upon Siladia as needed.

 

After what seemed like forever, but really was only an hour or so. The fires had been squelched, the wounded and dead accounted for. All told fourteen people had died, and a dozen injured, which much to Dearn’s mortification included several orphans. The area was still off limits to most, as Dearn leaned against a pillar wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve. Atrimez appeared, looking weary and a little confused. Dearn stood giving him a slight bow. "What the hell happened here?" Dearn questioned anxiously.

 

"Obviously the temple was attacked." Atrimez responded in an irritated tone, "It appears they ransacked the vault as well, though I'm not sure to what end. Everyone knows Drnae's temple is the poorest of all the priesthoods."

 

"So what did they take? How many were there? Who would so brazenly attack a Temple?" He let his mind and mouth work in unison, not hesitating to consider his words.

 

"We’re not exactly sure. Witness accounts put the number between ten and twenty involved in the attack. Also, it appears absolutely nothing was taken, almost as if they couldn't find what they were looking for. It happened so suddenly. Only a few of the attackers were stopped, and so far only one body has been recovered. It appears whoever staged this attack took their wounded and dead with them except one." Atrimez stopped a moment panting for breath, his age showing. "Strangely the one recovered seems to have been electrocuted to death."

 

"Electrocuted?” The mere idea of it seemed preposterous to him.

 

"Yes, his body was discovered near a brother Marsus, burned and disfigured. It was as if something had shocked and burnt him to death."

 

"That is most bizarre indeed. Are they sure nothing was taken?"

 

"Nothing that anyone can tell. Like I said, Drnae isn't known for its wealth. Any other temple would have been an wealthier mark."

 

“Now if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid this excitement has interrupted my sleep and I'm extremely worn out."

 

Dearn nodded to Atrimez who then departed. Dearn made his last rounds, checking on the wounded one more time. He then sought out lead investigator of the incident. He found him quickly, directed by the city watch to a Kynnorian Knight named Silas. He found him near a covered body close to the living quarters within the temple. "Sir Silas?" Dearn inquired as he approached, receiving a nod in return. "Is that the body?" A quick motion of the hand towards the prone figure.

 

The middle-aged knight looked tired as he looked at Dearn, sweat glistening from his brow from having fought the fires within the temple. "Aye it is. We're not sure what to make of it though. He appears to have been electrocuted to death. Though it's unclear what could have caused it." Silas added.

 

"Mind if I have a look?" He inquired, curious to see for himself this man who had been so strangely killed.

 

"Be my guest. I must warn you though, whatever did this disfigured the man badly." Silas had the look of someone who had been unnerved by whatever lay beneath the covers.

 

Dearn pulled back the cover cautiously, trying to prepare himself. He was aghast to see the man before him. Its hair had been singed near the point of baldness, face contorted in a look of shocked pain, his eyes were pitch black and staring into the void. The smell of burnt hair and flesh still quite noticeable in the air, strangely a small red handprint adorned the side of the man's face. Quickly he pulled the cover back over the man, his stomach turning on end. "And we're sure that nothing was actually stolen?" He ventured to Silas, who had turned away, directing the cleanup of the grounds.

 

"It appears so, we've questioned several of the wounded priests. The attackers seemed to be looking for something specific, though we're not sure what exactly. None of the priests seem to know either, but those that attacked apparently tried to beat the information out of them." Silas said with a confused shrug. "We're still investigating, and a full report will of course be given at the next council."

 

"I look forward to it, maybe more will be discovered by then. If you've no more need of me, I should return to the temple." He said in earnest, actually looking forward to the next council. He thought surely after this they could not continue with their inaction.

 

"Of course." Silas waved dismissively as another knight approached him.

 

Dearn left the temple of Drnae quietly, lost in thought about the events of the evening. The crowds of people had begun to thin out by now as people spread through the city to no doubt broaden wild rumors about what had really happened. Dearn was more concerned with what had really happened and was anxious to check on Kaelina. She had been visibly shaken by the incursion and he wanted to discern exactly what she had seen. He found her sitting in his chamber, drinking from a small flagon of wine. Though she was much to young in his opinion, another priest had thought it would calm her battered nerves. He did not voice his disapproval this time however, and simply took a seat near her. She seemed much calmer then she had a few hours ago. She rocked herself slightly on the bed, clutching the flagon almost white knuckled. "How are you feeling?"

 

"A little better I guess. How are Drnae's clergy?' She asked with apprehension. Though she had no real family, Drnae’s priests were basically the same thing and her concern for them sincere.

 

Dearn sighed having known this question would come. He dreaded telling her, but felt she had the right to know, "Fourteen dead, perhaps a dozen injured. Our priests have healed those we could, but we expect a handful more to die this night."

 

Her eyes began to water again, causing her pale green eyes to glisten, "What of brother Charlset, and the other orphans?"

 

   A frown crept along his face. Charlset had been the priest that basically raised Kaelina, and he knew her fondness for him. "I'm afraid he didn't make it. I’m not exactly sure about your friends, I heard reports but didn’t treat any of them myself."

 

She buried her face into her hands once more, silent tears flowing freely. "He was so gentle, and didn't deserve it." She remained like this for more than a few minutes. Other then Dearn, there was no one else within the city that she was closer to.

 

"I know Kaelina. I know. I'm sure the Temple of Kynny will root out those who committed this vile act and bring them to justice. Just wait and see." He said lightly, mustering the best smile that he could. His mind recoiled at the inherent lie, the attackers had vanished like ghosts, taking their dead and injured with them. All except that one strange man, finding them would be unlikely if not impossible.

 

After a few minutes, she finally stifled her tears. "Dearn. I had another dream, just before I awoke to the temple on fire." At first, she was unsure if she would reveal it to him, but had decided if anyone would understand it would be him.

 

Dearn felt a chill run along his spine, though the room was not cold. Her dreams had disturbed him ever since he had learned of them. For some reason he just felt that they portended to something real, auspicious though they might be, he could not prove their accuracy. "What was it about?"

 

"I was someplace strange. It was like the temple or city, but smaller. It was walled in. Strange creatures like the ones that attacked the temple were there. Except there were so many of them, and they were fighting what looked like Knights of Kynny. I can't be sure though. They were so outnumbered, and dieing. Then the creatures set fire to the place. That's when I woke up."

 

Ignoring the dream a moment, his curiosity peaked. "What do you mean creatures like the ones that attacked the temple? The only one that was left behind was burned and disfigured, like he had been shocked to death."

 

She gulped visibly, realizing she had given something away, "No, he looked like that when he attacked me." She then relayed what exactly had happened in the hallway.

 

"Unusual. Maybe that's why they took their injured and dead with them. They didn't want us to know they weren't quite human." He speculated aloud to himself, silently wondering where they could have come from. If that is what they looked like naturally, then they were not native to anywhere in Thyrinn. "You should count yourself lucky Kaelina. Apparently someone was watching out for you."

 

She nodded solemnly, "So what do you make of the dream? It seemed so real." She attempted to steer the conversation back to the dream, which had so disturbed her.

 

"I'm unsure. You know I've always considered your dreams auspicious. I shall confer with master Atrimez about it tomorrow. For now, I think you should try to get some sleep. You've been through a lot today."

 

Again, she nodded, this time stifling a yawn, "I suppose, though I doubt I can sleep after all this." She lay back on the bed slowly.

 

"Oh, and one more thing. Stop spying on people through the vents ok?" He added, secretly having known all along that she was the rat in the vents. A smile slowly crept across her face, eyes closed. She gave no reply.

Chapter 8: The Loremaster of Amlily

Since the attack, everyone had recovered quickly. It took little time for them to reach the river under Desoil's expert guidance. Once there, they had only to follow its winding banks south. It would lead them directly to Amlily. As far as they could tell, the Jergan had not pursued them. The ferocity of Desoil's attack upon them had made them wary no doubt, but they were ever vigilant. The further south they traveled, the colder it became. The warm winds from the north that insulated the swamps from the bitter chill of winter began to give way, replaced once again by the icy winds flowing east from the Qemara Mountains. The bogs and marshes gave way too; slowly more solid grassy plains were underfoot.

 

They traveled light, stopping only when necessary. When they did make camp, Creolis found himself staring constantly at Desoil. The changes in his appearance were profound, yet he seemed unable to duplicate the strange battle frenzy he endured days before. He spent countless hours during his nightly guard duties trying to force changes upon himself to no avail. Elris constantly assured him however, that the Loremaster of Amlily would be able to shed light on the Crown. So onward they moved, everyday inching closer towards the knowledge that was being dangled before them.

 

On the eighth day, Elris spotted the fortified walls of Amlily. Though barely a dot on the horizon, which Desoil and Creolis could not yet see, Elris was firm in his opinion that today they would reach their destination. Sure enough, the city soon peeked into view before them. The late afternoon found them strolling down an actual road, the first one they had seen in weeks. The massive stone walls of the city loomed high before them, thick and imposing. Amlily was one of the oldest cities on the continent, dating back to before the Thrynmore civil war. Enormous towers lined its walls, upon which sat huge ballista and catapults. Amlily had always been one of the few cities that had never fallen to invaders. The massive iron portcullis stood closed in the fading light of the late afternoon. The three could plainly see several of the city guard standing in the observatory above the gate. They peered down at the three suspiciously from their perch.

 

"Who goes there?" The apparent leader of the troop yelled down at them loudly.

 

Elris motioned his companions to keep silent. Desoil had covered himself in an over large hooded cloak, figuring the sight of a Broslak might be detrimental to their entry especially one as extraordinary looking as he. Creolis ignored Elris and stepped forward. "I'm a Kynnorian knight, traveling to Thyrinn from the north. We seek lodgings for the evening, and a hot meal."

 

"Don't see many knights through here, but it doesn't matter." came a brisk response. "King Yelon has decreed no one enters after the evening bell has tolled."

 

"And why is that?" He queried, finding it odd that a city of this size would close its gate to travelers. It’s not like the watch could not handle a few rough characters should they enter the city.

 

"We've been overrun by a deluge of refugees. Claiming they come from Kynnory, and that the city has been ransacked by an army of unknown origin. The king is taking no chances with the safety of his people."

 

   Creolis perked up immensely at this, his thoughts immediately going to his family, "Good sir, my family is from Kynnory, and it is true they have been attacked. Please allow us entrance that I might look for news of them."

 

"Unlikely even if the bell hadn't tolled. Your friends look suspicious, like the cloaked creatures that supposedly attacked Kynnory. You could easily have stolen that armor. Now off with you, before we turn our crossbows on you." retorted the overly wary guardsmen.

 

Creolis frowned, he desperately wanted in the city now. Without the watch allowing it, he saw little chance of it happening. Elris glared at Creolis for his rashness, wanting nothing more then to smack him upside his head for his simple mindedness. "I told you to be silent. I could have gotten us entry. As it stands now they’re more likely to shoot us. Come, we will make camp for now, and I will enter the city alone."

 

"Alone?" Even Desoil seemed unsympathetic to the idea, "And how will you do that? We all heard they’ve closed the gates for tonight, and you’ve been seen already, even without us with you they’re likely to shoot first."

 

"You two forget I've been traversing these lands for a lifetime. I know secret ways that few have dreamt of. I will go; the loremaster is an old friend, and are highly respected in Amlily. If a request is made by the Loremaster that we be granted access, then it will be so." Without having any other viable option, the other two agreed. The three moved off some distance from the city's walls, making camp near a small grove of trees a slight way off the main road. While Creolis and Desoil made themselves as comfortable as possible, Elris turned south, leaving his companions to sit and wait.

 

He followed the river’s edge in the waning light of the evening. Once he felt he was close enough to the walls of the city, he huddled quietly within the reeds along its banks. He waited, obscured from sight until twilight had faded into the full grip of darkness. He moved again, wading silently into the cold waters of the Reastro. Always a strong swimmer, he made short work of the distance to the walls that plunged into the icy depths of the river. With a hand upon the wall, he waded slowly along its course. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a small notch in the stone. He smiled remembering when she had placed it there. With as large of a breath as he could muster, he dove. Using the wall as a guide, he swam down into the darkness. It opened up into a large circular tunnel. Swimming with urgency now he traveled the short length of the passage to the iron grating that fed into the city aqueducts, his precious supply of air running dangerously low. It had been ages since he had been forced to enter the city in this way. Mutely he sent out a prayer that the grating had not been replaced. Much to his lungs relief, the opening was still there. Within heartbeats that felt like an eternity, he was through the small gap and frantically kicking his way to the surface. He burst forth as calmly as he could, his lungs burning, an intense need for air nearly overpowering.

 

Swiftly he surveyed his surroundings, gliding to the edge of the aquifer. He threw himself over the edge landing with a wet smack on the brick street below. The drop was not far, but he wanted to get out of sight quickly lest he raise anyone’s suspicion. At this hour, the streets were becoming deserted. Normally it would not be so, but the refugees and rumors of attacks had the citizens on edge. His memory was long lived, though it had been many years since he had visited Amlily. He deftly ducked through the city. The king’s palace sat some distance from the river, a tall imposing figure atop the hillside in the distance. The trader’s guilds and living quarters dotted the area freely. The only mark upon the city that remained ever constant was the Loremaster. It was not quite a guild, nor was it the ruling class of the city. It was essentially a library, a portal to ancient times. In Amlily, the loremaster kept the secrets of ages past, things that were beyond remembering by everyone else. People did not quite understand it, but they accepted it, needed it, a reservoir of knowledge to be called upon when needed.

 

He stood upon the entrance, his nervousness apparent on his face. Usually his nerves were firm, but in this instance after so many years had passed, he was uncertain of the reception he would receive. He rang the bell loudly, and stood waiting, almost fidgeting. A young man answered the door, his plain robes giving nothing away. "May I help you sir? Visiting hours are from nine until three."

 

"The tempest has risen, fate hath chosen, I seek that which has been lost. Pray that I find it." Elris replied, speaking a secret phrase no one except him would know. The young man’s skin grew visibly pale. He had been trained to know his expected response all his life. Though from the look on his face, Elris doubted he ever predicted it would really happen. He stuttered in response, the training leaving him. He gave a low bow and retreated quickly into the building. A few minutes later, a younger woman appeared. A warm smile adorned her face as she invited him in. He followed her anxiously, as she led him through the musty corridors of the library. Finally, they came to a large set of old double doors. She motioned to them, knowing her presence would not be needed inside.

 

He thrust open the doors quietly and stepped inside. The room opened into a huge chamber. It was lined wall to wall in books. Nothing but shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books. The room itself was spotless as far as Elris could tell. Though obviously some of the books were ancient, and the room smelled musty with age, it had been kept meticulously clean. Small oil lamps dotted the room, giving a low eerie light throughout the room. Up above Elris noted a huge glass skylight, which allowed the room to be filled with the warm natural light of the sun during the day. At the center of the room was a small ornate couch, decorated with many soft velvet pillows in a myriad of colors. Near this were several small sitting chairs and a rather large oaken table, covered with several volumes of books. In one of the chairs lounged a figure, thumbing through one of the volumes. She was tall, unusually so, gilded in a deep violet gown that hugged her curves, covering everything yet leaving little to the imagination giving her a rather young appearance. He could not be sure though, her entire head was covered in a large veil that matched her outfit. The only thing visible, her strange pale yellow eyes, some said to be a product of living life in the seclusion of books. She continued perusing the book without looking up, "It's been a long time Elris."

 

Elris plopped down in a nearby chair, showing no etiquette, talking as if to an old friend. "Yes, it has. Then again you know what I've been up to."

 

"But of course. So what is it that brings you to see me?" She never paused her reading, eyes darting back and forth along the pages.

 

He sighed a bit at this, sitting up a little straighter so he could look right at her piercing yellow eyes, hoping to gain their attention. "The Lost Eight. You know Belladria has found at least one. They are beginning to surface.” He paused briefly to see if this garnered a response, then continued when he received none. “I have discovered one as well. The Crown of Elia."

 

   The book slipped from her hand, making a dull thud as it hit the floor. Her intense yellow eyes staring at him as if she thought this was a dream. "You have it here? With you now?" The excitement was easy to hear in her musical voice.

 

With a slight shake of his head, "No, of course not. You know it would be nothing more then a useless clump of metal to me." He let the silence carry a moment, "It has chosen a bearer."

 

"Who?" She had shifted forward as he spoke, sitting now on the edge of her seat. Animatedly her eyes scanned him, urging him to divulge what he knew.

 

"I wouldn't have believed it myself, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. A Broslak albino, reborn is the Silver One." He answered with a strange conviction to his voice, willing her to believe him.

 

"Truly?" her voice was almost a whisper now, her mind struggling to process what she was being told.

 

"Yes, and I have selected the one that is to be the guardian. A Kynnorian knight, His Adrari is untested, but powerful." It came out as an emotionless statement that he expected to be taken for granted by her.

 

"Oh by Renad, we've waited so long." she looked away a moment, eyes holding sadness, "So very long."

 

"And now we seem to be running out of time. Belladria has mobilized her armies. I’m sure you know of the refugees even now flooding into Amlily. We have been traveling for the better part of two moons already and she has likely conquered much of the Kynnory city-state by now."

 

"And what would you have me do? I have already been pressuring the King to prepare the city for war, but he seems doubtful of the true danger we face." She assured him of her ever-vigilant efforts in their cause.

 

"I need what we don't have. Time. First, you must use your influence to gain my friends entry to the city. There are things," he trailed off a bit considering his words, "They need to be made aware of, but do not give them to much, only enough."

 

A laugh echoed in the room, cold crisp and almost seductive, "But of course, I have not lost my touch Elris. I must warn you though, Belladria has agents even here. They will know of your coming."

 

"It can't be helped. Later we will need help escaping the city unmolested though. Also, Amlily must be made ready for invasion; the King must be convinced of the dire circumstances he is to face. This city must not fall to her. If Amlily falls, Thyrinn will not be far behind. I need time to secure the heir, and lead him to his destiny."

 

"What of the other?" She inquired, giving no specifics. Both of them knew of whom she spoke.

 

"Only the eldest is needed, the other shall remain hidden, incase I fail. Someone must remain to stand before Belladria." His mind was wracked with uncertainty as he spoke. Should he procure the other heir as well? No, if he failed with the eldest another would be needed. All hope rested on them.

 

She reached out then, touching Elris' hand gently trying to comfort his mind. She could see the insecurities racing through him. "I've never known you to fail."

 

"There is a first time for everything Ahrianna. At dawn, we shall be at the gates. Be a dear, do not keep me waiting overly long?" a simple statement as he rose, heading for the door.

 

She watched him leave with a coy smile, speaking low as not to be overheard. "Of course my Tempest." She reached for the table, grabbing a small bell, which she rang immediately. The young woman from earlier rushed in. Ahrianna quickly barked orders for the morning.

Chapter 9: Reception

Elris slipped out of the city the same way he had entered. He shivered with a cold wetness, and was thrilled when he saw the light of the campfire from a distance. He found Creolis and Desoil still wide-awake. Other then a slight start, neither of them reacted to Elris' sudden appearance. A curious look passed between them at his drenched clothes. Elris said nothing as he grabbed a bit of the wood they had collected and tossed it onto the fire stoking its flames a bit higher to warm himself. "Yes, I made it into the city. At dawn we will be granted entry, the loremaster will see to it."

 

Desoil seemed to twitch a little at this, but said nothing. Creolis was oblivious, but Elris noticed, "What's wrong Desoil?"

 

He gave a small shake of his head, silver scales glittering in the firelight, "It's just that I've never been into a city before. I've never even left the swamps. I've seen only a handful of outsiders in my lifetime, unless you count the dwarven caravans traveling the Reastro."

 

"Eh, this will no doubt be a learning experience for you then my friend." Elris offered consolingly, trying to refrain from letting his teeth chatter from cold.

 

"It's not me I'm worried about. It's them," He motioned in the direction of the city. "Few have seen a Broslak, we rarely venture beyond the marshes. I'm certain none have seen one such as myself," distress obviously gnawing at his mind.

 

Elris sat silent a moment, pondering his words, and his remarkable appearance. "That is true, but Amlily is a city of knowledge. The histories of the Silver One, though obscure, are not forgotten. Hold high your head, maybe it is time for them to be remembered, and word of the Silver One to once more be spread?"

 

Desoil had no response to this, and so said nothing. Elris yawned deeply. "We are close enough to the city that a watch is not necessary. If you two choose to keep one this night, you will do it alone. I'm exhausted." He would say nothing else as he stretched out to enjoy some well-deserved rest. Within the span of what seemed only seconds he was breathing peacefully in a deep slumber.

 

"It always amazes me how he can just fall asleep like that." came a wistful remark from Creolis. He looked at Desoil who sat brooding still. He gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "Lighten up, it probably won't be as bad as you think. Besides, we'll be right there with you."

 

Desoil managed a half smile and a nod. He supposed that he would find out one-way or another. He snatched another large branch, positioning it on the fire so that it would burn slowly through the night. Then the two of them retired for the evening.

 

Elris was the first up in the morning. He wasted no time waking the others. It was shortly before dawn, the light pinkish hue of the first rays of morning were just beginning to overtake the deep midnight blue of night. They broke camp, not bothering with breakfast, Creolis looking forward to a hot meal in one of the local inns, assuming that Elris really could get them into the city. No one had yet gathered outside the city gates as they approached. It was still to early for that. They stood before the gates, still closed. Saying nothing, they stood patiently waiting, as the guards above simply stood watching them. It did not take long for the guards to grow impatient at their silence. "The gates won't open for a bit yet, go on about your business. You may not be granted entry anyway." They yelled down.

 

A silencing glance leapt from Elris to Creolis, and this time he held his tongue. "We will be granted entry. War is coming, and the Loremaster will want to see us." Elris yelled back at them.

 

From his vantage below, he could see the guards glance at each other, doubt written upon their faces. "The Loremaster seldom leaves her library, I doubt today will be any different. Especially for a motley group of peasants." One of the guards responded in a superior tone.

 

"Oh, I have a feeling that she will. We will wait." He said, tapping his foot gently with a small smirk upon his face. They waited some time, which annoyed Elris to no end. He was sure he had asked Ahrianna to be prompt. Already they had been waiting for nearly an hour. Surely, the people of Amlily were already up and about for the day. Still the gates had not opened. Creolis complained mutely about missing breakfast.

 

Then clear as the morning sky, a loud bell rang out in the distance, coming from somewhere deep within the city. The guards looked up, not in alarm however. From where Elris stood, they looked more surprised then anything else. A few minutes later, a clamor came from inside the gates. They could only hear, not see what was going on within. Elris knew however, his smirk having vanished. It was replaced with what could only be described as a look of apprehensive irritation. She would make a spectacle of the whole thing, he thought to himself.

 

In short, order, a bald man, wearing non-descript robes appeared in the gatehouse with the guards. They could not hear what was discussed, but knew it must be themselves. They motioned towards them several times, before the lead watchman finally nodded, the robed man disappearing from view. "The loremaster bids your friend remove his hood, and you'll be granted entry."

 

Elris scowled a bit at this. He understood Ahrianna's reasoning even if he disagreed. Let rumors circulate like wildfire in a dry forest of the Silver One's return. He had suggested as much himself last night, though he was unsure if he had really meant it. There would be no stopping the rumors that would start now however, and with a sigh, Elris shrugged mostly to himself. Maybe this knowledge would give Belladria pause, though he sincerely doubted it. He gave Desoil a reassuring pat and nod. Desoil removed his hood, letting his silver scales glitter in the morning light. A terrified shock passed over the guard’s faces as they glanced at one another. Quickly one of them took off from the gatehouse, no doubt to inform the king. A motion was given and within seconds, they could hear the grinding gears as the portcullis began to begin its slow ascent.

 

Once within the city, they could see plainly this was going to be an event. Elris informed the others that very rarely is the loremaster seen outside the library. Public audiences where never given. Even the ruler of Amlily had to request an appointment to see her. This being the case, as soon as Ahrianna had left the seclusion of her library, rumors of it spread through the city like a whirlwind. It interrupted morning routine as almost the entire city turned out, vying for a glimpse of the elusive woman. The market, schools, temples, all emptied in light of a once in a lifetime opportunity. As the crowds had begun to gather, the city watch and even palace guards had been called in to keep the throng at bay.

 

The inhabitants of the city were jostling each other trying to get a view of her, when a small child, no more then seven or eight screamed loudly. An awkward silence descended over those gathered as they turned in the direction the child was pointing, directly at Desoil. A murmur rippled through the crowd, unsure of what exactly they were witnessing. From a large carriage drawn by several white horses, Ahrianna, the Loremaster of Amlily emerged, looking as radiant as the dawn itself. With a raised hand, she silenced the crowd advancing on the three quietly. This morning she was dressed in a pale lavender gown. It trailed low, a small train following behind. The sleeves flared out at the ends, covering dainty hands loosely. Once again, her veil matched, showing nothing but her sparkling yellow eyes.

 

"Honored guests." She declared loudly to those assembled, giving a low curtsey. "And the Silver One. We have awaited a long time for your return." She smiled at Desoil, whose look spoke of disbelief, much like those gathered. "Let all know that the Silver One is here to help us in these dark times." She motioned them to follow, returning to her carriage with all the poise and grace of a princess. The townsfolk stood milling about. Rumors had been spreading for weeks as the refugees from the city-state had begun arriving, and now the loremaster had appeared speaking of a dark time. They were unsure of what to do, though as the three disappeared within the confines of the carriage, those gathered began to slowly disperse. What else were they to do but continue with their daily lives.

 

Once within the carriage, the loremaster gave a slight laugh. "Well Elris?" She inquired, knowing that he had no requested such a spectacular entrance be made. Then again, she had always been one to take matters into her own hands, with dramatic flair.

 

He sighed his displeasure in response, his tone showing it more, "Years in seclusion have addled your mind Ahrianna. Was there really a need for such flamboyancy?"

 

"But of course, Belladria's agents will return news of this to her. Then when her armies come, it will rally the people and give them hope. Never underestimate hope. I believe it was Renad's Tempest that taught that yes?" A flippant look on her face.

 

He shook his head, and then gave introductions "Creolis, knight of Kynny, and of course Desoil, son of the Broslak chieftain Dwenoil." The two nodded greetings at her. “This of course is the illustrious Loremaster of Amlily, Ahrianna

 

She smiled through the veil, "Desoil, is it true?" Her eyes twinkled with anticipation waiting on the response she expected and had waited so long for.

 

A hairless brow raised in curiosity. Had Elris really told her of it already? Of course, he thought to himself, how else would he have gotten her to get them into the city? "What's that?"

 

"The Crown of Elia of course. Do you really have it? You must, I've haven't seen the Silver One in so long." The excitement was practically dripping from her voice as she spoke.

 

"You've seen a silver lizard man before?" Creolis added, not missing a word, confused slightly since it was a legend two millennia old. One that he had barely even heard of himself until recent events had jogged his memory on older lore he had learned.

 

Her head turned sizing up the knight, "So this is him?" Completely ignoring his comment. A nod from Elris, "Mmm a wise choice I think." It came out as a purr, as she ran her hand along his armored arm. Creolis blushed a little at this, totally forgetting about his comment before. "So the crown? May I see it?" A pleased with herself smile upon her face.

 

Desoil once again removed the crown, the horns vanishing. He held it gingerly in his hands, hesitation on his face at the thought of relinquishing it. The conflict within him was short lived. If Elris trusted her, then surely everything would be fine. Gently he held it out, like it was made of glass and might at any minute break. Without a thought she took it in her hands, turning of over, examining all the intricate details inlaid into it. After a few minutes of inspection, she returned it without a thought, not concerned with the fact she had held an artifact of unimaginable power that had not been seen in two millennia. "Fortunate are we with Belladria on the move, that the Crown that helped end the War of Eight has been found. Also, that it has been given to a descendant of the first Silver One."

 

"The first helped end the war?" Creolis added slightly perplexed. He ran through his knowledge of the War of Eight, limited as it was and could not recall the Silver One playing any major role.

 

She laughed a bit at this, knowing full well that Thyrinn's taught history made light of the Silver One and his role in the war. "Do not fret. I will reveal much. First, it is time for a meal and some comfort. I do not like being away from my library." She shot Elris a knowing smile, "Though, for an occasion like this I guess it cannot be helped."

 

They became silent now, listening to the stamp of the horses hooves, and the clatter of iron rimmed wheels as they rolled over cobblestone. Creolis thought her very mysterious, much like Elris. She seemed more lighthearted though, as if her life was not touched by whatever darkness seemed to linger around him. He sat pondering this reception, while listening to his stomach grumble angrily at him. Yes, he thought. A warm meal, comfort and answers. These are the things I need.

Chapter 10: Revelations

The library looked much the same to Elris this time around, with the exception of the early morning sunlight streaming through the vaulted glass skylight. It cast a warm illumination about the library, making it seem more inviting. Ahrianna had draped herself along the length of a plush couch near the center of the room. After they had been shown inside and comfortably seated, her aides had begun bringing platters of food and drink. They had laden the table with it, while everyone sat in a rather uncomfortable silence. Ahrianna lounged, almost bored on the sofa, eating grapes one by one from a bunch she had picked from the table. Creolis thought it mildly amusing, watching her move the veil slightly from her mouth to pop grapes in.

 

Within short order, the aides had all departed. They left a veritable smorgasbord of food for them. The conversation was delayed once again, as the three gorged themselves. Creolis especially ate much more then he would normally have, hungry from having missed breakfast, and the fact he had been eating trail food for over two moons.

 

The loremaster stood as they ate, retreating into the recesses of the library. She went directly to a very old wooden box, tucked into a corner of a bookshelf. She retrieved it with a slight smile, returning quickly to her company. She set the box on the table amongst the food, catching a curious glance from Elris. She opened it and withdrew a simple green corked bottle. She opened it skillfully, pouring each of them a glass, of a deep crimson colored liquid. Elris grabbed a glass, giving it a slight swirl, as he smelled deeply eyes closed. "It can't be." He exclaimed with a melting sigh as he sunk into his chair glass in hand.

 

"Oh but it is," She smiled broadly, " I've been saving it for a very special occasion, and what time would be more fitting then the arrival of the reborn Silver One. In possession of one of the Lost Eight no less.”

 

Creolis cautiously grabbed his glass, giving it an exploratory sniff. "What is this stuff?"

 

"This my boy," Elris paused nearly draining his cup in one long draught that ended with a sigh of content. "Is Shalusa, a wine made by the Dasorinthium, during the height of the Dalsor Empire. I didn't know any bottles still existed."

 

Ahrianna laughed, clear and beautiful like a songbird at the rising sun, "Come now Elris, of course I managed to save a few bottles in those last days." She refilled Elris' cup quickly.

 

Creolis took a drink, and found it wonderful. It tasted like nothing he could imagine, later he could describe it only as music in his mouth. Then he stopped, musing over what she had said. "Wait, You managed to save a few bottles? Dalsor fell two millennia ago. Even with that veil, you couldn't possibly be much older then me."

 

"Is that so?" A glimmer in her pale yellow eyes. She reached back behind her, untying the veil. She let it slip from her face. Her smile widened as she heard both Creolis and Desoil gasp.

 

The two of them were to say the least surprised. She was beautiful and elegant, sharp features to match those yellow eyes. Bright red full lips, with golden honey colored hair traveling down to her shoulders. The thing that had shocked him however, were her upwardly pointed ears. "You can't be an elf." He stated, sure of himself. "Elves have been gone nearly two thousand years. Unless you believe Elris, in which case they were transformed by that.... that crown." he stuttered slightly, pointing towards Desoil's head.

 

"Ah so true. The Jergan," she frowned a bit at this. " But, I am in fact Dasorinthium. Only those that turned against Elia were cursed." shrugging, "A sad fate for our people. Some of us remain though, members of Renad's Tempest. Keeping watch always as we promised, to watch for the return of the lost eight."

 

"But that would make you like," He did the math in his head, "Over two thousand years old."

 

Amused she struck a pose in her gown, laid out upon the couch, "Almost twenty three hundred, but who's counting?" She seemed quite pleased with herself for just a moment before sorrow blinked across her face, “One of the last vestiges of a dying race.”

 

He was in awe. Never before had he thought the elves had survived, let alone that he would be sitting before one. "So you were there? The War of Eight..." He trailed off a moment, lost in his thoughts before snapping back. "It was real?   The Crown is real.... It’s all real." His head was spinning.

 

"All myth is based on fact, though details may be lost. There is always a truth to them." She offered them simple wisdom.

 

"So that means you actually met Renad. You're in Renad's Tempest, just like Elris claims to be."

 

A quirk of her brow happened, as she threw a fleeting look at Elris that passed just as quickly. "Yes. I suppose that I am."

 

Desoil interjected at this point, "So if this Crown is so powerful, why can't I reproduce what happened to me in the cairn?" A perturbed tone of frustration following his tone, confused as to why he could not make it work.

 

She spared a glance at Elris before answering, fearing that she were revealing too much. "The Artifacts of the Eight. Curious they are. Each holds sway over an ancient type of magic. Take the crown for instance. It controls what your people would call transformative magic." she paused taking a sip of her Shalusa, "It's power is immense, but untamable, at least not in its entirety. The Lost Eight are alive." She waved off a confused look from Creolis, "Not in the same way you and I are, but they are like something alive. Only people descended from the original Eight can truly tap into their power."

 

"Then why was it, given? To me." Desoil spoke lightly, thinking back to the tomb, and the voice the feeling as if it were destined to be his still strong in his gut.

 

"The crown of Elia is a special circumstance. During the height of the war, when the Dasorinthium turned from Elia, Renad beseeched the king to give him the crown. After much convincing, the king relented, and Renad used it to create the five tribes of lizard folk. No one knows how, but we do know that Renad gifted the crown to the one that your people call the Silver One. He became the general that led Elia's armies to victory and ended the war."

 

"Then I must be descended from the Silver One? That is how I'm able to tap into some of the Crown's power." It was both a statement and a question.

 

"Yes, I would think so. With time or perhaps a bit of practice, and trial through error you will eventually be able to tap into more and more of its power. That is also, why the heirs of Elia must come to power. Only they can truly wield the enormous power of the artifacts and prevent another travesty from destroying the world."

 

"But where are the others? I mean, we've found the crown, and Elris says Belladria has one of the Eight as well. What happened to the rest?" Creolis said aloud, his mind wondering where the other six might have gone.

 

A simple shrug, "They were scattered after the war, before Renad vanished. I do know that the SaltSteel Dwarves have one in their keeping as well. However with the Broslak between her and the dwarves’ mountain stronghold in the north, Belladria will be long in acquiring it, assuming she even knows of its existence."

 

“Why didn’t Renad and the Tempest society destroy the artifacts after the war? It seems to me that it would have been the prudent thing to do. Then another war would never happen.”

 

Ahrianna smiled slyly, “At this is the crux of the situation isn’t it? I’m not exactly sure. The only person that would truly know the answer to that would be Renad’s Tempest.”

 

   A perplexed look festooned upon Creolis’ face, “But I thought that was an organization of Renad’s followers?”

 

“Oh it is. One built after the end of the war at Renad’s request, to the man known as his Tempest. Hence the name.”

 

“So Renad’s Tempest is an actual person?” Desoil chimed in.

 

She merely shrugged, “Who knows?” An almost unnoticeable smirk rose up on her face, “Though, some have said that something happened to Renad during the war, something to do with the Lost Eight, and that he couldn’t bare to destroy them.”

 

A sneer erupted from Elris at this moment, “Who are we to venture on what a man thought that long ago. More likely then not, he didn’t want to destroy them and unleash magic back into Mris. What good would it have done? Look at the destruction left behind from that kind of power in the first place.” All gathered knew he spoke of the eviscerated landscape of the Desolation. A marred wasteland of desert filled with twisted mutations that blighted the continent. “It doesn’t matter why they weren’t destroyed. We just can’t let her find them. This is why we leave the dwarves to their methods for now. I agree that Belladria will be frustrated thoroughly in her attempts to gain it. We should secure the heir of Elia. Only the heir stands a chance of wielding the power that will bring an end to Belladria’s reign of terror, and prevent the world from descending into the follies of war.”

 

"And after that?" Creolis asked, draining another goblet of Shalusa, seeming a bit unsteady in his seat.

 

"I'm not sure yet, Maybe to the Citadel of Kevved, Somewhere where we might find clues to the location of the other Lost Eight. Speaking of which, have arrangements been made to get us out of the city unnoticed?" Elris cocked an eyebrow in Ahrianna’s direction.

 

"Of course, but it will take a few days. Besides, it would be unusual after this mornings display if you three were to simply vanish after only a day. Until then, I've arranged for lodgings at one of the more upstanding inns in town. I'm afraid we aren't equipped for guests here. Though, I'm sure you already knew that."

 

A laugh leapt from Elris, his mind shooting backwards in time, to some occasion of which he did not speak, "But of course. Then we shall take your leave for now, and let ourselves be seen about the city," A knowing smile upon his face. He thought to himself that maybe this would work out all right after all.

Chapter 11: Amlily

Ahrianna had gotten them quite a nice room. An aging portly man and his wife ran the Ole House Inn. The first day they spent relaxing in the confines of the inn, taking a well-deserved break after over two months of hard travel and luckless situations. Creolis took time to shave what he considered to be grotesque facial hair that had grown during the journey. They spent the evening in their large comfortable room, allowing their supper to be delivered to them. The innkeeper smiled politely to them as he set the tray on a simple oaken table, though he was obviously taken aback by the strange appearance of Desoil.

 

The next day they went down for a quiet breakfast in the common area of the inn. However, what they found was a large crowd. At first, they thought the turnout was for them, people coming to see the Silver lizard man. A short word with the innkeeper told another story. The inn had been packed for weeks, and not just this one. All the inns were like this, ever since the city had been flooded with people fleeing from Kynnory. Though Horace, the old portly innkeeper seemed to doubt the rumors of Kynnory's fall, since none of the refugees had actually seen it happen.

 

Creolis thought back to his first days with Elris, and the warning he had supposedly sent to his father about the coming attack. He did not recognize the people gathered, but that was no surprise. He had not been home in quite a few years and Kynnory, though not the biggest city, was still quite large. He scanned the crowd once more, and then turned back to his breakfast, thoroughly enjoying his peppered eggs.

 

"Creolis?" A thick gruff voice yelled out across the inn, trying to be heard above the noise. “Creolis Kynra?” Hearing his name caused him to look up surprised. Across the room stood an older man, short and husky in build. His full beard covering most of his face, a dark tan covering rough skin that appeared used to hard work.

 

He recognized him immediately. It was Rota, one of the more popular blacksmiths in Kynnory. He rose leaving the other two to their own devices and greeted the man with a hearty handshake. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I left with your father and mother. When they said the town was going to be attacked, a lot of us packed up and left with them." He ran his hand through his balding hair, “Though honestly, a lot of us aren't sure if it ever actually happened."

 

"Oh no, my father was right. I watched Kynnory burn from a distance. Don't think of going back, its in occupied territory now." He answered sadly, thinking back to that night on the boat, the orange glow he saw through that terribly long night as Kynnory burned. A feeling of helplessness returned to him, showing on his face.

 

"But who would start a war?” He seemed perplexed as he voiced aloud his curiosity, his simple mind unable to grasp who would disturb four hundred years of peace and prosperity. “The city-states have been at peace for hundreds of years now."

 

He bit his lip a little throwing a careful glance in Elris’ direction. He was unsure how much he should tell the simple man, and decided that it would be better to feign ignorance. "I don't know, but it’s not safe. You said you left with my family. Are they here in Amlily?"

 

"Of course, your parents are staying over at the Wistful Down across town."

 

"I'm sorry to make this short, but I haven't seen them in quite a while. I must go. It was good to see you friend." An anxious excitement was rising within him. It had been to long since he had seen his family, even though he was stationed so close to home he seemed to always have a reason to miss a visit. Yet, now here he was after everything that had happened recently and he was scared still to face them. Rota smiled with a nod, raising his mug towards him.

 

Creolis went back to his table quickly, informing the others that he had learned his parents made it to Amlily after all. Elris cautioned him not to reveal too much to them, but agreed that he should see them. He left the inn quickly, pushing through the crowds that had begun to gather. Word was already spreading that the Silver One was staying there as the Loremaster's guest.

 

His stride was quick, pausing only a moment to ask for directions from a local. It took several minutes to make his way through the bustle of the city to where the Wistful Down stood. It was a much cheaper establishment than the one Ahrianna had put them up in. He could easily tell the building was well worn with age. Purposefully, he entered the dimly lit tavern. Scanning the crowd, he could not find them. Several patrons turned at his entrance, watching him. He gave a curt nod before stopping a serving girl to ask for the keeper. She smiled with a nod as she delivered a large mug to a nearby table.

 

   A few minutes later, a large swarthy old man approached. His beard was enormous; having been growing a few decades at least, Creolis surmised looking at the gray fullness of it. He used his old white apron torn and stained in many places to dry the sweat from his brow as he moved across the room. "My daughter says you needed to see me." A thick gruff accent he spoke with.

 

"Yes Sir," a small polite nod, "Someone told me that Mr. and Mrs. Kynra are staying at your fine inn."

 

"Aye. That they are lad, they're upstairs in their room with one of those Siladia Priests. Room three if I recall, last one upstairs on the left." He replied appearing to ponder it a moment, "Aye room three." He wandered off back to his work.

 

Creolis hurried upstairs finding the room of which the old man had spoken. Gently he rapped upon the wooden doorframe twice and waited impatiently. Mere seconds later the door creaked open just a crack, and Creolis smiled. His father had a look of bewilderment on his face as he quickly stepped into the hall with his son. "Son, What on Repik are you doing here?" His father asked happily.

 

"I'm here with Elris. He umm," He rubbed the back of his head unsure of how to put it, not wanting to tell his father that Elris had forged documents and spirited him away from the fort shortly before it was ransacked. "Saved me from Fort Konway before it was attacked."

 

He clapped him on the shoulder roughly, "Ah I knew he would when I got his message about evacuating Kynnory. He always did seem to have a soft spot for you and Dearn." He spoke with a fondness in his voice referring to his younger son.

 

"So where is mother? I'd sure like to give her a hug and let her know I'm safe. I'm sure she must be awfully worried. Also, what is this about a priest? Has something happened to her?"

 

The glow of his father's smile left immediately, replaced by an intense melancholy gloom. "She caught the cough on the trip from Kynnory to Calle. They did what they could there, but it didn't go away. I'm afraid that it has gotten worse on the trip to Amlily. The priest is with her." He stopped a moment, his voice cracking as a tear rolled down his aging face. "She's dying Creolis..." his voice trailed off.

 

A grief stricken look crossed his face, "Can I see her?" He managed to say, though his voice came out as a meager whisper. His mind was reeling from the idea. No, his father must be wrong, she was fine. He must be overreacting his mind attempted to convince him.

 

"Of course son, but she is very weak. If you're going to see her you best do it now. The priest doesn't seem to think she will last the night. I'll go and get him out so ya'll can have some privacy." His father reentered the room quietly. Creolis stood waiting in the hall, counting the seconds by the beat of his heart. After what seemed like an eternity, his father and the priest emerged from the room, and made way for him to enter. His mother was laid out in the bed, covered to her neck in a thick quilt. He was wounded to the core by her appearance, haggard and drawn, pale and feverish. He approached slowly, not sure whether she was awake or not.

 

"Mother?" Softly he spoke as he knelt at her bedside. Her eyes fluttered slightly, before opening. They were glazed over as if she were looking into some far off place. Slowly they began to come into focus, looking at Creolis confusedly. She smiled a little, and then was ravaged by an intense fit of coughing. She grabbed a small handkerchief, covering her mouth until it subsided. He could see the small pink stain on the cloth as she pulled it away. He said nothing as his heart sank further.

 

“Creolis?” She spoke softly, breath coming in short wheezing gasps.

 

“Yes, It’s me mother.“ He replied gently taking her small frail hand in his. Tenderly he rested his head on her forearm, not wishing her to see the tears brimming threateningly in his eyes.

 

“Is this a dream brought on by the fever?” She queried, not quite believing he was actually there. “I was so worried about you after your father said that the war was starting. I didn’t want to believe it.”

 

“Elris spirited me from Fort Konway before it was overrun. I’m quite safe I promise.” Creolis forced a small smile, gazing fondly upon her. His eyes drank in her features as if he might never see her again.

 

“Good, I’m please.” Her feeble form was once again wracked by a horrendous spasm of coughs as she spoke, forcing her to cease speaking. “Now you must go and help your brother. I’ve done my best to raise you both. I fear I’m not long for this world.” She sighed as she looked away from him sorrowfully. “I would have liked to have been here to see grand children.” A wheezing sigh escaped her, “I suppose it’s for the best, a time of war is no time to be raising children.”

 

“Don’t say that mother. The priest says you’re going to be just fine.” He smiled at her, the lie sickening his stomach. “You’re going to be around many more years, and one day when this is all over I’ll find a nice girl and settle down.”

 

She almost smiled at his kindness, “Just like your father, trying to spare me pain. Just know I love you all very much, even Dearn. Make sure you tell him so, when you see him.”

 

He found her words unusual but nodded, “You can tell him yourself when we all reach Thyrinn. I’m sure you both will travel with us there.”

 

She reached out, her hand trembling with the effort as she held his face gently, “Of course we will, but I’m so very tired. Could you fetch your father?”

 

With a nod, Creolis left, trying not to let his eyes mist up to much as he did. He informed his father that mother wanted him, and that he would be back later. He moved towards the Ole House Inn with slowness, his heavy heart forcing him to trudge along. He had always known that one day his parents would no longer be with him. Seeing his mother like that however left an emptiness inside him that he was unsure he could fill. To be forced from her home suddenly, on a whirlwind cross-country trip. All because some malicious woman was marshalling her troops in a war for nothing more then power. It sickened him, then to top it off, to catch the cough. The cough as people called it was a long running sickness among their people that most would survive, except the young and infirm.

 

So lost in his thoughts Creolis failed to notice the crowd until he had nearly run into it. Outside the inn was a large crowd of people gathered, milling about trying to see what was going on. All around the city watch had gathered, trying to keep the mob back. Creolis began to grow concerned for his friends. He attempted to push his way through the throng to the front only to meet resistance.   Suddenly someone recognized him and yelled to the crowd to make way for the knight, which only disturbed Creolis further. Instantly people began to move to the side, allowing him to pass to the front. A member of the watch quickly pulled him through, informing him that there had been an attempt on Desoil’s life. They ushered him within the confines of the inn.

 

The residents had been cleared out, though the room was still full of people. Investigators from the city watch mostly, and a covered body near the table they had been sitting at earlier. Creolis found his friends at a table on the far side of the room. Thankfully, neither of them appeared to be injured, though Desoil appeared nervous. “What happened? A guard said someone tried to kill Desoil.”

 

“Yes, but I don’t think they were actually after him. I think he simply got in the way.” Elris returned in matter of fact way, as if he was absolutely sure. “I’m almost certain I was the intended target. There is no way Belladria could know about Desoil yet. When the assassin attacked, Desoil saw the blade and reacted instinctually. He cut the man down.”

 

“Obviously one of her agents. Was he Jergan?” A frown was written on his face, wondering if the Jergan had already been in the city or perhaps followed them from Reastro.

 

“No, which distresses me. She has apparently been building a network within the populace of Thyrinn itself. It doesn’t bode well.” He stood, beginning to pace near the table.

 

“What about you Desoil? Are you alright?” Creolis added, taking in the lizard mans distressed appearance.

 

Desoil’s expression was hard to read. Creolis would have called it forlorn, “The guards wanted to arrest me at first, for killing the man. I didn’t mean to, I just acted on impulse. If Elris hadn’t been here they might have done just that, or worse. You should have seen it, when I saw the blade my heart skipped a beat and one of my claws,” He paused staring at his own hands mutely, “It just grew into a blade of its own accord.”

 

“And if you hadn’t been here Elris might be dead. You did what you had to do. There is no fault in that. The city watch know that I’m sure. They were just caught off guard by an outsider killing one of their own.” He voiced reassurance, patting his friend on the shoulder.

 

Desoil seemed upset by this, “This is the reception I should except everywhere? People judging me without knowing me for who I am? Simply because I’m different?” His voice rising instinctually as his anger rose.

 

“It’s not their fault Desoil. They simply knew that someone had died right? And once someone explained what had actually happened they backed off right?” He found himself trying to rationalize their response to someone not versed in the culture in which he now found himself.

 

“I suppose.” Desoil volunteered.

 

“They are just doing the job they are supposed to do. Did Elris and I receive a better reception from your people when we first arrived? Eventually someone has to be the bigger man and let the biases go my friend.”

 

Desoil had not thought of it that way before, and seemed to relax visibly. Elris was on his feet, pacing in small circles near them. “It still doesn’t change the fact that Belladria’s people know I’m in the city. We must get out of here as soon as we can.” He ranted, obviously fretting over the attempt on his life.

 

“Elris. My mother caught the cough during their flight from Kynnory. She is dieing.” Creolis interrupted his friend’s distressed ravings.

 

“I know, I heard yesterday.” Elris said offhandedly not bother to look at Creolis before continuing to mumble to himself.

 

“What? And you didn’t think this was something that you should maybe tell me?” Creolis nearly yelled, his voice full of outrage.

 

“There wasn’t time, and it doesn’t really matter. We’ve,” His sentenced was interrupted by a fist smashing him in the face. He stumbled backwards, thudding into the nearby wall he nearly fell.

 

Creolis shook his fist from the blow, seething anger written on his face. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” He stalked maliciously towards Elris, intent on pummeling him further. The blue glow of the Adrari spread over him. Elris had regained his feet and was prepared when the next blow was thrown his way. He grabbed the fist mid air, and used Creolis’ own momentum to throw him into the wall. Creolis crashed into it soundly, stunned by the sudden impact.

 

Elris stood over him glowering, “Be mad if you want, but keep it to yourself. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve seen die in my lifetime? Any idea how many loved ones I’ve watched perish? The pain that I carry with me at all times? There are more important things going on in the world right now.”

 

Creolis rose from the floor and slumped down in a chair forlorn. He said nothing, not even sparing a glance for Elris. He had no words to describe what he felt. The pain was overwhelming, but he had no argument for what Elris had said. He did not know his sorrows, or what he had been forced to do or see. “Come to the Loremaster’s library at dusk. Or don’t. I’ll be leaving then regardless. My mission is far to important to die here.” Elris declared angrily as he stalked off.

Chapter 12: Family

Elris had stormed off, a fire burning in his soul. Who was he to question? Creolis, who had done so little in his life, lost so little. What did he know of pain, of sacrifice? Elris scowled inwardly as he stalked through the city, disgust raging through his entire being. Had he been so impetuous and brash in his youth he wondered. Oh, it must be nice to be that young and see the world so narrow-mindedly. He found himself once again standing at the steps of the great library of Amlily, home of the Loremaster.

 

A gentle rap on the doors he placed, while musing to himself. He always wondered why they referred to the head of the Library as the Loremaster, instead of Mistress. The entire city had always known she was female, though none suspected she was one of the last vestiges of the Dasorinthium. The city had long been led to believe that a successor was chosen from the temple attendants when the one prior grew to old, and that the knowledge was handed down.

 

The same attendant that had appeared that first day opened the door, groaning at the constant intrusion at the library recently. Without open remark, he admitted Elris, quickly closing the door behind him. Elris waved the man away. He knew the layout of the library, better then any of the attendees. He soon found Ahrianna as usual, lounging about her expansive main library. The room was alit by the wondrous skylight above, though to him the room seemed darker then usual. She lay stretched out daintily across her day sofa a large leather-bound tome across her lap, lazily flipping through the pages as she sipped wine from a large gold inlaid goblet. “Back so soon?” Her eyes never leaving the pages of the book in which she was engrossed.

 

Angrily he flopped down into a chair across from her, and grabbed a goblet as well filling it to the brim. He drank deeply finishing nearly half the glass, “I need that passage out of the city tonight.”

 

“Oh?” A question followed by a raised brow as she flipped another page.

 

“An attempt was made on my life just a little while ago. Her people know I’m in the city. No doubt thanks to the spectacle you put on yesterday.” He came back with, angry at her apparent lack of concern. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” It came out as a near roar, outraged that she seemed so dismissive of him.

 

Calmly she closed the book, setting it beside her as she sat up straight. She looked him over slowly inch-by-inch, as if piercing his soul with her eyes. She then took her goblet in hand, draining a small sip of it as she pondered, “And this has nothing to do with the young knight in your company? The one that you’ve been fighting with?”

 

No response issued forth from him therefore she continued, “You are not the only one with resources you know. I looked into the young mans past after you had retired for the night. I know his family is within the city; that they are looked at as the unofficial leaders of the refugees streaming in from Kynnory. I also know that his mother is sick with the cough and will likely not survive.” It was then that she leaned forward ever so slightly, and softly laid a hand upon his cheek. A soothing yet sorrow filled smile playing lightly across her face, “But what I know more than anything Elris, is you. I know you probably either knew all of this already, or at least assumed as much and didn’t deign to inform him did you?”

 

His eyes closed, he relaxed into the gentleness of her caress with a sigh. Words rushing through his mind as he considered what to say. He knew she was right. She had always known him so well, and not how he was now. She knew the inner him; a man lost to ages of grief and loss and pain. She alone had intimate knowledge of everything. He mustered up the courage to speak, and his eyes fluttered as the words formed in his mind. This was the moment when she slapped him forcefully across his already injured cheek.

 

“And that means, I know exactly how much of an insensitive bastard you can be. Sure, you helped groom him to be the guardian. Does that make him less of a real person to you? Should he not feel? Oh, I suppose he should be controlled and calculating like you? To only think of the greater mission?” She berated him with loud fluidity.

 

Elris winced visibly at her onslaught. Each sentence another slap, though not to his face. These were directed at his pride, his ego. He cast his gaze downward, goblet clenched firmly in his hand. A chastised child is what he felt like in that moment.

 

“I remember how idealistic you used to be, merry and full of life. And don’t try your rigmarole on me, I know everything that happened. I was there.” It all came out as an angry hiss, “Don’t lose yourself. If you do, you’ll become no better then them, and if that happens will you really have completed your mission?” Gentleness returned to her voice as she chastised him.

 

“I know that you’re right Ahrianna. I’m just afraid that it can’t be helped; that it’s already much to late for my salvation.” He sighed as he said it. Deep down he felt as if he would never find deliverance from the pain of the sins he hid.

 

“I hope not, I most certainly do hope.” She leaned back into her sofa once more, the lines of age showing just a bit more freely upon her face, “As for leaving tonight, that is out of the question. This morning I received word from King Yelon. He has requested a meeting with you and your companions, and by requested obviously I mean demanded.” At this point, she drained what was left in her glass and rose.

 

“What are you doing now?” He asked curiously, his eyes never leaving her.

 

“I’m going to retrieve my veil obviously. Like I said, I know you. Your not taking your friends to see his highness, and you’ll want to go now.” Laughter echoed on her lips, “I can’t very well be seen in public with these, now can I?” A slight motion to her ears followed.

 

He smiled sadly as he rose as well, and then shook his head in agreement. Deep down, he wished she was not so in tune with him. It was impossible for him to hide his soul from her, and she was quick to take it from him, leaving it flayed open before him. She was the one person that could do this, and force him to look upon it without the possibility of denial.

 

***

“You know, Elris is what my people call an old soul.” Desoil ventured leaning back in his chair trying to break the brooding silence that had descended since Elris’ sudden departure.

 

Creolis raised his head curiously from his hands. The indecision of his current predicament was written plainly, on his face, “I’m not sure I follow your meaning Desoil.”

 

“It’s like,” He pondered a moment, trying to think of how to explain it in a foreign tongue, “Underneath he is good in his heart. He has a purpose, and that purpose pushes him to help people. He didn’t have to save my brethren and I. He didn’t have to save you. His life is about some promise that we can’t understand. I think, that maybe it helps hide some great failure in his life. Penance for some sin that he thinks he committed, or perhaps not. What do I know about such things? In my opinion though, you judge him to harshly.”

 

Creolis smiled a bit at first before falling into a fit of uproarious laughter. He laughed harder than he thought was possible in his current mood. Desoil sat there head tilted just slightly to the side, gazing at him ponderously unsure why he was laughing. Several minutes passed like this till Creolis finally settled down again. “Amazing Desoil, just amazing. While I think you may be quite right. If someone had ever told me, that I would be sitting in a bar, hearing philosophical talk from a lizard man. I would have called them a fool. Yet, Here I am doing exactly that.”

           

Unfortunately for Creolis, the irony was lost on his scaled companion. Desoil simply sat there, staring at Creolis a perplexed expression adorning his face. Sadly, their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted. A runner burst into the inn loudly, running over to the two of them. Creolis was somberly startled and went for his blade reflexively. It was unnecessary however, for the runner stopped breathlessly before them with only one simple purpose. He was there to deliver a message. Creolis’ mother was dead.

 

***

 

The palace blotted out the skyline quickly as they approached in Ahrianna’s carriage. Elris had hung his head lazily out the curtain of the door, watching the scenery. Many of the citizens they passed stopped whatever normal routine they were following to stare, not used to the sight of her carriage rolling about the city. The palace itself was quite simple in design; it had been built hundreds of years before for two simple purposes. One was to be an impenetrable stronghold; the other was to stand the test of time. It was a simple rectangular structure of thick stone walls, a wall within the walls of the outer city. Upon its ramparts sat many more of the same defensive siege weapons that dressed much of the rest of the city.

 

The guards stopped them at the gates, as was routine. A few short words from Ahrianna quickly granted them access to the interior without question. From what Elris overheard of the conversation, it appeared that she was not an infrequent visitor to the palace. The steward greeted them kindly as they disembarked from the carriage in the courtyard. A formal honor guard mutely escorted them within the palace, taking the most direct route to the throne room. Elris took it all in stride, having seen the castle many times before. Dutifully the steward announced them to King Yelon, who was in the middle of settling a dispute between two farmers. A wave of his hand and they were taken to a well-furnished stateroom to await his highness’ pleasure.

 

Shortly thereafter his royal highness Yelon deigned to join them. Elris suppressed a grimace as the aging king entered the room. He knew his type well; pampered, pompous and greedy he thought to himself as the graying man settled into an easy chair. Yelon was in his early forties, a full well groomed beard and mustache riding his face. It was obvious that he took care of himself physically. Shrewd black eyes seemed to be sizing up Elris in return.

 

“So this is the infamous Elris? Hmm.” Yelon muttered tapping his chin. “Ahrianna speaks quite highly of you sir. I however, am I must say, at a loss.” The king mused as he waved his aide to pour them all a round of drinks, “I have put my feelers out you would say, for information about you. And what do you venture my informants bring me?”

 

Elris remained quiet, hands folded neatly in his lap as he scrutinized the king. He assumed the question was rhetoric and not really in need of an answer. A glance he did spare at Ahrianna however, who sat lazily in her overly fluffed chair the hint of a smile twinkling in her yellow eyes as she sipped her wine without a word. “Nothing that’s what, whispers of whispers, rumors, not a single concrete fact. No one had even heard of you until fifty years ago, and even then, all that’s spoken of is a vagabond, a wanderer of unknown origin. Not even a last name, why is that Elris?” he pondered aloud, shooing away the attendant that tried to refill his glass.

 

“My past is of no consequence your highness. That isn’t really, why we’re here is it? You want to know if rumors of war carry any grain of truth with them.” He refused to give out information about himself. He never had and never would. On his fingers, he could count the number of people left that knew the truth.

 

“Oh, to the contrary, as I said no one had heard of you until fifty years ago. Yet, you sit before me looking a man younger then myself. I find it quite curious indeed. “ The curiosity showing as he ponderously stroked his beard.

 

He shrugged it off, giving the same excuse as always that he had aged well. “ What should really concern you is the stream of refugees and what will happen when your city comes under attack.”

 

Peering at him warily, the king frowned with unease, “This city can withstand an outright assault for months. What I don’t know however, is the enemy that we face. That is where you come in. Ahrianna tells me you are a master tactician and know this enemy intimately. It would be a privilege if you would stay and help fortify our defenses.”

 

“While I can assure you that she is quite correct, I’m afraid that will most definitely not be happening, I have other things that require my immediate attention. However, I have a trusted colleague within the city that should more then suffice for the help you need. I trained him myself. I’ll leave the details with Ahrianna when we depart. I’m sure he will make himself most invaluable to you.”

 

“I see,” He replied look over at Ahrianna curiously, “Well then. My steward will see you to the carriage and take you back to city.”

 

Elris stood swiftly, not wishing to dawdle within the confines of an old musty castle, despite how luxuriously it was furnished. The fact that Ahrianna made no move to follow gave him pause, “Are you not coming?”

 

A wave of her dainty hand, “No. I think I’ll stay and enjoy his highness’ company a bit longer.” She emitted a light giggle her eyes twinkling.

 

Elris stood staring, the comment not lost on him. He let off something that sounded somewhere between a snort of disgust, and a bit of an amused chuckle. “Loremaster,” Smiling at his use of her formal title he bowed, and then followed the steward back to the courtyard in silence thinking to himself how little Ahrianna had changed, always so loose with her affections.

 

It took Elris a while to locate his friends. He checked both inns, only to find they had left several hours ago. After a bit of inquiry, he discovered that they had left for the local temple of Siladia, for the funeral of Creolis’ mother. Having use of the Loremaster’s personal carriage, he arrived only minutes before the ceremony began. He noted silently that the crowd was considerably larger than he would have expected. A moment of understanding hit him, as he noticed Desoil standing separate from the main crowd with Creolis and his father. Obviously, the people gathered were there more out of curiosity about the rumored silver lizard man than they were for the funeral itself. Even so, the crowd was hushed and somber, and all attention directly moved to the carriage, as a murmur erupted from the crowd about the visitation of the Loremaster to the funeral. Sadly, they were disappointed as Elris emerged from the carriage instead, giving the driver a dismissive wave back to the library.

 

In somber reverence, Elris approached the pyre. There he gave a bow along with a final goodbye, before retreating into the crowd, moving to stand quietly with his friends as the blaze was started. He embraced his old friend Lesolis, and leaned in whispering quietly to the aging man, who appeared to grimace slightly at whatever was being spoken to him, but eventually nodded. As Elris once again moved back to solemnly, he happened to catch a questioning glance thrown at him by Creolis, who had apparently witnessed their little exchange.

 

No one spoke for what seemed like hours, all eyes glued on the blaze before them. Creolis seemed close to tears as he watched small embers blown skyward in the inferno; his thoughts no doubt on the departing spirit of his mother, going to rest eternally with Repik. Slowly as the evening wore on, the crowd began to disperse. Their reverence at the dearly departed they had not known giving way to the mundane things of life which they now had to perform.

 

Later, after the fire had died lower, and the priests had dismissed them the four of them returned to the inn. They sat somberly about a small table, everyone reflecting silently on the day. A round of mugs had been placed on the table for them, however no one had touched a drop, the mood simply not in them. Eventually in the palpable silence, Elris excused himself, giving Desoil a knowing look; quickly he offered to join him.

 

Creolis nonchalantly took a sip of his drink, barely tasting the strong spirits, “What was that at the funeral?”

 

A sigh escaped Lesolis as he pushed his mug away, “You saw that huh?” The question seemed more rhetorical then anything else. He placed his arm on the table, slowly pushing back the sleeve of his tunic. In the dim light of the inn, Creolis could make out the tattoo of a swirling tempest embedded into his forearm.

 

A look of stunned surprise leapt to Creolis face as its meaning dawned on him. His father had known about the tempest his whole life, he was a member himself, “When?” It was the only thing that he could think of to say.

 

“Long ago, before you and Dearn were born. In fact, even before I met your mother. Elris and I have had quite a few unusual adventures in my younger days.” A reminiscent smile alit his face as he thought back to those days, “Though, those days were not nearly as serious as what we face today.”

 

“Did mother know about this?” He asked with concern, silently wondering what else his father had kept from him.

 

“Yes of course, I had no secrets from her.” He stopped a moment, sounding very sullen, “Unfortunately for our family Creolis, this is just the beginning.”

 

“Of course it is, Elris wants me to travel with him. He wants me to help him uncover the Lost Eight, and prevent Belladria from decimating Mris.”

 

The crestfallen look never left his face, “It’s not just that Creolis. Elris has given instruction that I’m to stay behind, here in Amlily. I’ve been given a mission to assist in preparing for Belladria’s arrival. This city must hold as long as possible.”

 

“What?” Creolis exclaimed loudly, causing what few patrons remained in the common area to look over at them briefly. “But we’re going to Thyrinn, You could see Dearn!”

 

“I know, Elris already told me, but I have a duty here. We all do though you may not understand it yet. Our family was drawn into this twisted web the day I met him, and now we must all play our parts. You and I, even Dearn.”

 

“What does Dearn have to do with this?” His brother was nothing more than a carefree follower of Siladia. Though he had combat training, it was in Creolis’ opinion rather limited.

 

“Well,” He paused, seeming to consider his words carefully for a few moments before continuing, “Your Mother and I love you both very much. This might well be the last time I see you in this life. Your mother would be livid with me, but it’s a confession that you deserve. You’re brother was not born to us, he was brought to us, by Elris.”

 

There was a pointed silence then, as the weight of what his father had just said descended on him. It crashed upon him in waves of wildly flowing thoughts. I’m not the heir, Dearn is. He’s not my brother, how did I not know? Does he know? Why did Elris keep this a secret? Why did my parents never tell me? If it’s not me, then who is the other heir? He sank back into his chair, unable to put words to the emotions welling up within him.

 

“Yes, I know it’s a lot to take in. Be that as it may, you must continue with Elris. I need you to look after your brother, since I cannot any longer. Your mother would kill me a second time when I eventually join her in the afterlife if I didn’t do what I can to protect him. We love you both very much, and don’t you ever think of Dearn as less than your brother. Your mother would have a fit with you if you did.”

 

“Of course. It’s just unexpected. Though, I guess it does make sense. This is a lot to take in,” He paused, taking a long drink from his mug this time, “Who is the other heir? Did Elris tell you?”

 

A shrug with a swift shake of his head was his response, “Elris always did like to keep his secrets. Now if you will excuse me, the hour is late. It has been a hard day for me, and they’re only going to get harder I think.”

 

A silent nod was received from Creolis as his father rose to return to his quaint lodgings for the night. Creolis however, continued to sit at the table alone. He knew he should retire for the evening, but could not force himself to do so. He knew it would accomplish nothing; sleep would not come to him now. Too much had happened today, his mind was to alert, replaying the day’s events repeatedly to him. He waved the innkeeper over for another round as he finished his current drink off. It would take several more for his mind to relax enough for sleep to find him.

 

The next day was spent gathering supplies. Today they would depart Amlily in secrecy, with the assistance of Ahrianna. After all preparations had been made they stood together, with Ahrianna and Lesolis one final time in the courtyard of the Loremaster’s mansion. Solemn goodbyes and well wishes were made as five ornate carriages of the Loremaster pulled up single file. As soon as darkness enveloped the land, the three companions loaded into one of the carriages, Ahrianna had already arranged for horses to be waiting for them nearby outside the city. All five carriages departed, each heading to different places within the city. If Belladria’s spies were watching, they would be hard pressed to know which one housed the three. So, in secret they left Amlily behind, changing over to the waiting horses as soon as they were safely out of the city. Now, only time and distance separated them from the grand city of Thyrinn.

 

Chapter 13: Convergences

The first leg of their journey to Thyrinn was comical. Immediately they encountered a problem that neither Elris nor Creolis could have foreseen, Desoil had never ridden a horse. Both were endlessly amused by his attempts to mount the horse, but after several failed attempts, Elris was forced to subdue his humor and give him a few quick lessons in horsemanship. Desoil was rather hesitant at first, obstinately voicing that he would prefer to travel on foot. His companions however had to disagree, knowing they would make better time on horseback. Finally, with a sigh of resignation he agreed.

 

The first few hours of riding were intermittently interrupted. Desoil after managing to mount his steed had consistent trouble remaining so. Both he and the horse seemed unnerved by each other. Several times, he somehow startled his horse, causing it to buck and throw him. Each time his companions had to choke back fits of laughter, not wanting to offend their friend’s pride. After a while, and a bit of hard earned practice the riding became smoother for him. He almost felt as if he could learn to enjoy riding. Almost.

 

Their luck, as fate would have it changed for the worse on the second day. What had been a rather mild winter so far took a startling turn. The winds grew bitterly cold, the sky ominously dark. Then something happened that Desoil had never seen before. It began to snow. He swiftly decided that he cared not for the snow. The wind swirling it all about him, penetrating any creases in his cloak that it could find, promptly melting into a wet mess afterwards. Cold and miserable, he borrowed extra cloaks from his companions as he tried to keep himself warm. Despite the misery caused by the weather, he had to admit to himself that the scenery was quite breathtaking. The white almost powdery looking snow drifts appearing then disappearing in the breeze. The slumbering trees, bare of their greenery, icicles hanging from branches like frozen fingers. The snowflakes dancing like small albino pixies in the wind. Yes, quite beautiful.

 

For several days after, winter maintained its icy grip on the land. Progress was slow and hard won. Despite having dealt with many winters before, even Desoil’s friends found themselves fed-up with the weather. Fortunately for them the snow did finally stop, though it remained to cold to melt. Even with the despicable conditions, they remained wary, ever vigilante for signs of Belladria followers. In an attempt to remain inconspicuous, they joined up with a merchant caravan traveling towards Thyrinn. They signed on as guards; Creolis even went as far as to change out of his Kynnorian armor, wearing simple studded leather. There was no help for Desoil’s less than normal appearance, except to stay cloaked as they traveled. He was rather glad for that, as he was still trying to grow accustomed to the cold.

 

Their time with the caravan passed uneventfully. During the coldness of winter, attacks by brigands were unlikely. Crime was not a huge problem in Thyrinn, though occasionally raids against merchants did happen. The concern would grow however, as they moved closer to the Desolation. Desoil had never seen this place that concerned the others so much. Though he had heard tales passed down by his people. A scarred desert wasteland that had once been the shining jewel of Mris. During the final battle at Dalsor, terrible powerful magic’s had been unleashed upon the land without care for the devastation it might bring. The power’s unleashed by the opposing armies had torn asunder the land, stripping it of natural life. All that remained now was a blasted wasteland, full of strange creatures, mutations caused by the torrential magic that had been brought to bear. The area was uninhabitable now, though forays into the area were constantly being undertaken by hunters, and even by the Knights of Kynny, just to keep the populations of horrendous monsters in check. If left uncontrolled, the creatures would occasionally venture outside the Desolation in search of fresh prey. During the caravan’s nightly stop, everyone would sit about the large fire, Desoil listening intently to the terrifying tales told over the campfire about creatures of nightmare that would burrow through the sand unseen, only to launch themselves from it suddenly to take their prey by surprise. Desoil was more than a little unnerved by some of these stories, definitely preferring the wildlife of the swamps to the creatures of unimaginable bloodlust.

 

***

 

The city of Thyrinn was in an uproar. The tension in the populace had slowly been building for weeks since the attack on the Temple of Drnae. Since then Dearn had been able to learn little more about the attack, and Kaelina’s strange dream. Even Master Atrimez had been unable to shed any light on it. He had begun attending the weekly councils with vigor, trying to learn anything he could about the situation at fort Konway. Since the first meeting however, everyone had remained rather tight-lipped about the entire situation, as usual back parlor politics were winning the day.

 

Dearn was on this particular day lounging about his room, his heart heavy with anxiousness. Still no word had come from Fort Konway, and now to make matters worse contact had been lost with Kynnory as well. Most people were unaware of this small fact, as the Adrari were doing their best to keep it under wraps. Dearn had learned of this news through a friend within the Temple of Kynny. He had also found out that the Kynnorian Knights had dispatched a regiment to find out what was going on, without the Adrari’s consent. Word had it that they were even going to skirt the mountainous western edge of the Desolation in an effort to reach Kynnory faster. This of course showed Dearn the urgency they felt, traveling that way with the land in the clutches of winter was dangerous.

 

With a resounding sigh, he leaned back into his chair the nervousness ever present, without any relief in sight. A light tapping at his door interrupted his brooding. “Come in.” His mood was uplifted immediately as Kaelina strolled in nonchalantly, plopping herself down on the bed with a grin. “What has gotten you in such a good mood?” Cautiously he inquired, though somewhat relieved to see her spirits improved. She had been rather downtrodden since the incident at the temple.

 

“I had another dream last night Dearn, but this one wasn’t like the others.” Her smile grew larger as she thought of it. Obviously whatever it had been about had been pleasant.

 

“Well are you going to tell me about it? Or are you just going to sit there looking at me with that stupid grin?” He said with a small chuckle, her mood contagious lessening the dread he had been feeling.

 

She giggled a little nodding, “Usually my dreams are terrible, full of pain and violence. This time though it was peaceful, so much so that I almost didn’t remember it when I awoke. I saw a man; at least I think it was. I couldn’t really see him. I just remember his troubled gray eyes.” She paused looking off at nothing in particular as she thought about it. “Despite his haunted look, I could just feel that he was a friend, and what’s more, he was in Thyrinn. I think he is coming here.”

 

“But you have no idea who he is?” He smiled unconvinced, willing to entertain her fantasy if it helped keep her from focusing on the incident weeks before.

 

She stood up, an indignant look on her face. “You don’t believe me do you?” Right away, she crossed her arms before her, replying in a cantankerous tone.

 

Just barely he shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not. It doesn’t really matter what I believe. As long as you believe that’s all that matters right?”

 

***

 

Two weeks of hard travel had brought them to the southern edge of the province of Amlily. Here the edges of two city-states and the Desolation came together in a small region along the eastern coast of the continent. Soon they would leave Amlily, skirt along the edge of the Desolation and move into the province of Thyrinn. Once inside the borders of the city-state, it would take another two weeks of travel through rugged country before they would finally reach the illustrious capital of the Thyrinnian nation.

 

Desoil was shocked when they reached the edge of the provinces, amazed that it literally just ended in a jagged line of sand. The Desolation just seemed to materialize a little ways to the west of them. The snow that had finally melted ending abruptly in sand, seeming to him as if some powerful magic had sunk its teeth into the land and refused to allow nature to have its hold on the part it had claimed. He stood staring for several minutes, trying to comprehend the awe-inspiring forces that must have been at play to cause such a disaster. Finally, his friends yelled at him to catch up, he was lagging behind the group in his dazed amazement. Creolis and Elris glanced at each other, not surprised how shocking the sight of the Desolation was to their friend. Both of them remembered the first time they had seen it for themselves and seeing it again only reminded them. Elris in particular seemed particularly sullen by the view.

 

So far, their time with the caravan had been extremely uneventful, for which none of them could complain. After all, of the recent troubles and dire circumstances they had faced, they were actually more than a little relieved for the reprieve they were enjoying. During the first part of their journey with the caravan, the traders and their families had been apprehensive about having the strange colored Broslak with them. It had been the curiosity of children that overcame this. He would catch them, peeking from wagons, or watching him as they ran around playing. Finally, a small group of them had come forth, asking him a slew of questions. Much to their surprise he answered, apparently the children were not even sure if he could talk. Since that day, Desoil had grown more at ease as well. After his interesting reception in Amlily, he seemed to have learned that every individual is different and will react differently to him. He was unsure if it were good or bad. Perhaps it just was he mused to himself as he trotted along on his horse. Maybe it’s just each persons view of things that mattered, the thing that made them friend or foe.

 

Desoil had also been practicing his manipulation of the Helm of Elia’s power. At first, he achieved little success with it. That changed quickly on their journey. Quite quickly, he discovered that the Helm seemed to follow the direction of his will. Back in the swamps, when his friends had been in dire straits, without thought his will had been to defend and destroy that which threatened. His subconscious mind had manifested with the Helm’s enormous powers, the battle form that he had entered. Now he found that with his conscious mind he could duplicate similar effects. He toyed with his newfound powers regularly, though only away from prying eyes, lest he undo the amicable nature of the caravan. Now he could manipulate his appendages at will, growing his talons into blades of almost any length he wished; morph the small nubs of horns upon his head into large goring tusks or even antlers if he wished. His tail he could make barbed or into an armored club. He had even had limited success sprouting leathery wings upon his back, though so far he had been unable to manipulate them in a way that would allow him flight. As they crossed the border into the Thyrinn province, he promised himself that one-day he would fly.

 

***

 

The announcement had come at noon, shortly after an emergency session of the council had been called. Thyrinn had been invaded by an unknown army. No details were as of yet known about this enemy or why they had decided to launch a campaign against a nation that had been at peace for four hundred years. Dearn had been attending master Atrimez during the sudden council, stood there in disbelief as he heard the words uttered by the Adrari leader to a subdued group of leaders. Fort Konway had been demolished, Kynnory sacked and burned. The entire city-state of Kynnory was being overrun, and might possibly already be completely under enemy control. Orders were already being drawn up to assemble forces to battle this new enemy. Word had been sent to Calle and Amlily, to apprise their leaders of the situation. As of yet Calle had not responded, though oddly enough, Amlily was already preparing its defenses incase they were besieged, and had even requested aid from Thyrinn.

 

Dearn whispered a quick word to Atrimez and excused himself from the council. He was in no position of power there and the news had troubled him deeply. He began a slow plodding walk back to the temple. In a few short sentences his entire world had been shattered, his heart now a shredded mess. Kynnory and Konway destroyed, his mind had trouble wrapping itself around this notion. His family likely dead, Creolis would have fought bravely with his men, even against insurmountable odds. His parents, and potentially everyone he had known growing up killed. His mind jetted back to Kaelina’s strange dream a few weeks back the night of the attack on Drnae’s temple. Of course, it fit, though at the time he had been unable to connect the dots. Had she possibly watched his brother die in a vision, he was not sure he wanted to know. So deeply lost in thought, eyes brimming with tears that wished for freedom, that he was startled to see he had company. Kaelina had at some point joined him, and seeing his crestfallen expression had no intention of questioning him. In sullen silence, they continued to Dearn’s humble lodgings.

 

“So are you going to tell me what’s eating you?” Kaelina ventured cautiously, unused to seeing her friend so withdrawn.

 

He sighed deeply wondering if he should tell her all he had learned. No doubt, it would become public knowledge before long. “I think your vision was about something that really happened.” he began slowly, “Fort Konway was destroyed. As far as we know there are no survivors, which means my brother is likely dead. Kynnory was overrun and burned, which means my parents are also probably dead. Some unknown army is rampaging across the country-side in the north and I’ve just found out I’m probably an orphan now.” Once he began it seemed to flow from him along with tears he could no longer hold back. “The worst part is, that there is no reason behind this. No one knows where this army came from or why they would want to wage a war. Our society isn’t perfect, but we are peaceful.”

 

Kaelina had no words of wisdom for him and could think of nothing that would be a comfort to him in his aggrieved state. She did the only thing she could think to do. She enveloped him in a warm long lasting hug. Though she herself was an orphan, she had grown up that way. Having never known her family, she could barely comprehend the pain that he must be feeling at the idea of his whole family being gone.

 

***

 

Creolis finally had Elris alone. It was well past twilight now, the caravan having stopped hours ago to make camp for the night. The two of them were on perimeter guard, watchfully if a bit nonchalantly patrolling the outskirts of the camp for any signs of danger. All was quiet however, as it had been since they left Amlily. It was almost as if the troubles of the world had been left behind and this was just another day. Creolis knew better, with all the unsettling things he had learned lately weighing on his mind, he knew better.

 

Suddenly, without warning or thought, Creolis grabbed Elris by the collar of his signature hooded cloak roughly, lifting the lithe man from his feet and holding him suspended in the air before him. The blue inner fire of the Adrari shadowing his taut muscled arms. A downcast sigh emanated from deep within Elris. “It’s about time we had a little talk Elris.” Creolis glare was scathing.

 

“Yes, I figured you had something like that in mind.” Elris exhaled, giving a halfhearted attempt at a shrug, meeting Creolis’ glare unflinching. “However, I must protest that this isn’t really necessary. I’m willing to answer your questions without force” A small smile curled at the edge of his lips.

 

Creolis lowered the man to the ground. “Father told me that Dearn is the heir. This, all of this is your fault. Belladria, the war, my mother’s death. It’s all on your hands.” Grief sounded plainly in his voice. “Do you deny it?”

 

Elris sat down, a look of resignation tearing at his face, “I’m sorry about your mother, she was a wonderful woman. And yes your brother is one of the heirs I hid fourteen years ago.” He looked older as he spoke, the weight of untold sorrow creasing his brow. His gray eyes sparkled a bit in the twilight, tears brimming on their edges.   “There are things I guess you should know.”

 

“You’re damn right I should know. Willingly or not, my family has been brought into this mess. Now my mother is dead, and my father is on some blasted mission of your contriving. Then I learn that my brother is the heir to an entire kingdom and you whisked him away as a small child to protect him. The time for secrets is over.” Creolis fumed. He was tired of letting it go at an old man and his secrets. He was angry, though he was not entirely sure where to direct his rage. So Elris was bearing the brunt of it, deserved or not.

 

Elris nodded, “Then I’ll tell you the story, but bare with me. It is long in the telling and probably far more than you expected.” He sighed, knowing it had to be told. He had carried it all with him for so long. There were so few that still knew of it. “My ears Creolis, they are not scarred from some battle. I did it to myself, so I could walk openly among your people. Just like Ahrianna, I’m Dasorinthium. Though I’m a bit older then her. My old man and his secret jokes aren’t really jokes. I’m nearly twenty five hundred years old.” He paused letting the idea rattle in Creolis’ mind. “I was there when the war broke out. I was Renad’s closest friend if anyone was. I am Renad’s Tempest.” His voice grew cold and distant at the last statement as though he were remembering the person he used to be. “Renad ended the war, I helped him. After it was over, I begged him to return magic to the world. Power like that was never meant to contained.” His gaze was now distant. “But something in him had changed. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. So instead, he scattered the Eight. He charged me with one purpose before he vanished to time. Watch for the return of the eight and do what he couldn’t, destroy the artifacts and free magic. For two thousand years, I have watched and waited. I built upon my legacy as the Tempest and created a society of allies under my namesake.”

 

He snapped back to reality staring into Creolis’ stunned face. “Then twenty years ago, I made a terrible mistake. I fell in love, with the niece of King Disrasi of Eliasovania. Belladria” His voice was lilted full of bitterness. “I told her the same tale, of my secret past. Oh what a fool I was. It was all an act on her part I learned to late. Power hungry she was, but to far removed from the royal line to ever ascend the throne. She vanished into the wilderness a week later, in search of the Lost Eight.” He almost growled out the story through gritted teeth, the pain still fresh in his mind. No doubt, twenty years was just a drop in the bucket of time for one who had seen the better part of two millennia. “At first I was inconsolable. I went searching for her of course, following her trails, or rumors of her when I could, but to no avail. Then in my travels, I learned the truth. She had succeeded where countless others had failed, until the Artifacts were lost to the myths of time. She had found one of the Lost Eight., and with her new power she rallied the Jergan. Promises of a renewed Dalsor nation, of old times, of a restoration of their beauty, and oh how they flocked to her.”

 

All the while Creolis sat mute, listening intently, his brain franticly trying to process what he was being told. “Then you of course know the rest, I smuggled the direct heirs out and hid them. Only descendants of the original eight can use the artifacts true powers, or destroy them. That Creolis is my sin. Now I must make it right, and stop another truly apocalyptic war from taking place.” He slumped as he finished, the weight of his perceived crimes a palpable burden to him.

 

Creolis was dumbstruck, finding his emotions at odds. He felt sadness for Elris’ plight, and yet at the same time, a disdain for the mysterious man. He had long considered him a close friend of the Kynra family, but now he supposed they really knew very little of him. Now after hearing his confession, he knew one thing for certain. He was unable to place the blame for this solely on Elris’. It was not his burden to bear. This, all of this, was the sins of our father’s.

 

***

 

Creolis was elated when Thyrinn materialized on the horizon. Even from this distance, it loomed huge. Desoil too seemed excited, he had thought Amlily a magnificent city, but Thyrinn was considered by many to be the cultural and intellectual center of the world. He had on several occasions talked with the dwarven caravans about the shining city. Elris had been unusually sullen and quite as they made the last leg of their journey. Though, his spirits did seem to lift slightly as the city finally came into view.

 

It took the greater part of the day to actually reach the gates of Thyrinn. Word of the attacks had already reached the city, as was made obvious by the intense questioning the caravan received before gaining entry to the city. The caravan leader, happy to have made it to the city unmolested, quickly offered to settle their pay after entering the city, all three gratefully declined. After parting ways with the caravan, Creolis wanted to find Dearn right away. Elris intervened, advising caution. The city was on high alert already, and for a knight, that had supposedly died at Konway and a Silver Lizard man to go openly traipsing about the city in the late even would be ill advised.

 

Though unhappy and with much grumbling, Creolis finally acquiesced to the wisdom of the much older man. They found cheap lodging in the Temple district of Labrif, God of Frivolity. It was one of the less scrupulous districts of the city, known for what passed for unsavory characters and excess debauchery. As such the innkeeper of a quaint place called the Flowing Cup, barely glanced at them when Elris got them rooms. Creolis found Desoil’s look of surprise at the scantily clad serving girls serving drinks in the common area quite amusing. He supposed that it must come as a bit of a culture shock to him, after the somewhat more conservative nature of the folk of Amlily. Creolis ushered Desoil quickly up to their room, not without throwing one of the bustier ladies a wink and a smile.

 

The three relaxed in their room, sipping the drinks brought to them from the common area, making plans for what tomorrow would bring. Creolis it was decided would seek out the Praetor, Commander in Chief of the Knights of Kynny. Since the city had already been appraised of the attacks, he would take Desoil with him and try to enlighten the leader of the largest fighting force in Thyrinn of the true nature of the threat they faced. Elris would venture out this evening and see what he could learn of Dearn’s whereabouts and what exactly the citizens knew about Belladria’s army.

 

Elris slipped from the room quietly just a short while later, leaving Desoil and Creolis to entertain themselves. Desoil paced around the room a bit as the serving girl brought them another round of drinks. She smiled flirtatiously at Creolis, but gave Desoil a worrisome look, obviously unnerved by the sight of a silver lizard man. Seeing one outside the Reastro swamps was nearly unheard of, but what little general citizens did know, was that their race was black scaled, not silver. Creolis chatted salaciously with her, trying to put her at ease that Desoil was a friend and quite harmless. Though he laughed a little slyly when he said this, knowing that Desoil was only harmless as long as he was a friend, and that an enemy was indeed destined for pain. The maid left shortly thereafter, leaving the two alone in tenuous silence before Desoil broke it. “Have you noticed that Elris seems a little withdrawn lately?” He said, prodding his friend for information.

 

Creolis was taken aback, realizing just then that Elris had not spilled his secrets to Desoil. Though he had not forbidden it, he was reserved about revealing what he knew. After a few minutes of pondering, he decided that it was best he did. He after all would not want to place his life in the hands of someone he had trust issues with, and so he told Desoil the whole story. For Desoil’s part, he took the information in stride, barely batting an eye at the revelations. He seemed to have blind faith that his friends would not lie to him. “Well, that explains a lot. No wonder vague myths about the scarred one stretch back to the beginning of the Broslak.”

 

Elris slipped from the inn, weaving his way through the evening streets. Just from walking through the small lingering crowds of the Labrif district, he could easily ascertain that tensions in the city were running high. Remaining inconspicuous, he visited several other inns listening to the local rumors and gossip. He was a surprised to learn that the Jergan had attacked the temple of Drnae so brazenly, though at the time it happened he sincerely doubted the locals were aware of what the Jergan were. Working on the assumption that Belladria could not know of Dearn’s location here, he surmised that she must have had them searching for a possible artifact hidden at the temple. He scoffed to himself as he headed for the temple of Siladia. He knew that if indeed an Artifact had been spirited away and hidden at the temple of Drnae he would have found it long ago.

 

Though it was late, he made his way to Siladia’s district. It was much more vacant at this hour. Quickly he made his way down the avenue, his memory placing the layout of the city exactly as he remembered it. He was greeted as he entered the temple by a young acolyte. The youth gave him a warm smile, inquiring to his needs of Siladia this evening. A short description and a name procured the location of Dearn’s quarters within the temple. Elris was surprised to learn that he had already advanced to the level of journeyman among his peers. Other duties had kept him from the heir longer than usual this time, that and he felt that he was quite safe. Navigating the temple proved easy with the directions of the young acolyte, and soon he found himself standing before Dearn’s chambers. Now that he was here, indecision filled him. His mind wandered over all the events that had led to this moment, trying to decide if he had taken the right course. He did not know, could not know for certain. Hope was all he had. Hope that the rivers of time were flowing to a destination that would not see a repeat of the devastation of the War of Eight.

 

He knocked on the door lightly and waited. Moments later he heard noise from the other side and put on his most amicable smile as it opened. Dearn pulled the door open, “Back so soon Kaelina?” he asked, then stopped as he stared at those cold gray eyes. “Elris? By Siladia what are you doing here?” A mixture of excitement and unease floated about his voice.

 

“The Nation of Thyrinn is under attack, Kynnory has already fallen. That is what I’m doing here.” He replied smoothly, unsure of what other answer Dearn might expect. “We’re going to see the Praetor in the morning. The forces of Thyrinn must be mobilized, Calleron may already be under siege.”

 

“We’re? Why would the Praetor want to see me?” Dearn asked confused, opening the door further to allow Elris in the room. He motioned to a chair, inviting Elris to sit as he took his own seat on the bed.

 

Elris shook his head with a small chuckle, “Not you, Creolis, and Desoil too. I’m sure the Praetor will definitely be interested to meet him.” He took a seat in the chair, crossing a single leg as he sat back comfortably.

 

Dearn jumped from the bed excitedly, “Creolis? He’s alive? And He’s here in Thyrinn?” Dearn’s heart lifted as he spoke, his mind relieved at the knowledge that his whole family might not be dead after all, “Where is he? Why are we sitting here talking, let’s go see him!”

 

“Whoa, Hold your horses Dearn. You’ll see Creolis tomorrow, Come to the Temple of Kynny in the morning. Creolis will be glad to see you, and there are many things he will want to tell you. I just came to let you know he was alright, I’m sure after news of the attack reached the city, you must have thought he was killed in the attack on Fort Konway.” He informed him solemnly, stifling a yawn as he stood to leave.

 

Dearn lay back down on the bed; it was late after all. What were a few more hours in the long run? His heart and mind were much more at ease with just knowing that Creolis was alive and well. He wondered silently how he had managed to make it out of Konway when it was reported there were no survivors. Obviously, it must have been Elris’ doing he thought as he heard the door click shut as he left. He sighed deeply, eyes closed, anxious for what tomorrow would bring as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 

The next morning Creolis was up early. Since making it to Thyrinn unmolested there was no need for him to remain incognito; so he donned his knight garb again. After fitting it carefully to his body he gave an experimental stretch, making sure that it was all fastened correctly. He felt much more at ease wearing his armor, and it would be impolite to show up before the Praetor not properly dressed he had thought to himself. After dressing, he quickly woke his two companions, Elris having returned at some point during the night. He informed then he was going down for breakfast, and that he was ready for their trip to the temple whenever they were. With that, he left the room heading for the common area. As soon as he hit the stairs he could smell the delicious sent of pan fried bacon and the strong aroma of coffee. Ah yes he thought to himself, that was one thing he had missed about the big cities. The wonderful food was so much better than the grub of the trail.

 

He had nearly finished his hearty meal when the two finally sleepily made their way to the table. He pushed his plate away, drained his mug of coffee and sat back, a satisfied expression on his face while his friends ate their meals. “So what did you learn while traipsing about the city last night Elris?”

 

“Not really much more than we already knew,” He offered between mouthfuls of food. Desoil too remained silent, thoroughly enjoying his coffee, something that he had never had the pleasure of trying before. “Also, I paid your brother a visit last night at Siladia’s temple. He should be joining us when we go to see the Praetor in a bit. I left the details of what has been happening for you to tell. I leave it to you to decide what he should or shouldn’t know.”

 

Creolis nodded and remained thoughtfully silent as the two finished their meals. Afterwards it was time to visit the Praetor. Creolis’ palms were sweating; he had only ever seen the leader of the knights in passing. To him it was both unnerving and an extreme honor. They traveled mutedly down the shining avenue of Kynny. The cobblestone street was immaculate, well maintained and clean. Numerous fully armored knights, some on foot others on horseback hustled about on temple business. Creolis noticed right away that many seemed tense, which was not much a shock to him. Though they were the largest standing force within Thyrinn, there had been no real muster of their ranks in nearly four hundred years. He shook his head to himself, if it had not already started, it soon would.

 

The temple itself was one of the most marvelous in Thyrinn, second only to the Adrari’s magnificent complex. Dwarven craftsmen from SaltSteel had come down, commissioned by the first Praetor to construct it. It stood as a domed oval structure, comprised entirely of sparkling red granite, hewn from the southern edges of the Qemara Mountains, the peculiar colored rock a result of the magic’s of the Desolation. It sparkled in the early morning light, a symbol of the blood of the innocent that the disciples of Kynny were sworn to protect. Creolis stared at the massive pillars along the borders of the temple, supporting the massive awnings of the ceiling. Many had been painstakingly carved into prominent figures of the temples past, priest and knight alike, for it made no difference when it came to the esteem the temple felt for those that had made great sacrifices in the name of Kynny. Quite a few of the pillars remained intact; waiting for the day that someone would rise up and earn their place among the exalted.

 

The three sat upon a luxurious couch in the large private meeting room of the Praetor. Desoil never ceased to be amazed by the extravagance of the city, and sat mutedly. Elris lounged comfortably, his mind preoccupied by other things. He felt that this was just a formality, Thyrinn would be moved to action soon enough, despite anything they might tell them. The people would only stand for inaction for so long when their lives were at stake. Creolis was lividly relaying the story so far, though to his credit he altered what was necessary. He had been on a hunting furlough with Elris when the fort had been attacked. They had seen the enemy’s numbers and rode straight away to Kynnory to warn the townsfolk to evacuate. He imparted the rest of the story, leaving out small tidbits, such as the heir, Elris’ role in all this. He did however divulge Desoil’s part in this, the finding of the crown of Elia, that the Lost Eight are real, and that is what this new enemy is after, power.

 

Praetor Janice sat hands folded across from them at her desk listening intently to Creolis’ story. Despite her esteemed station, she was quite beautiful. Long flowing chestnut colored hair, well groomed and proper. Intense intelligent hazel eyes sat behind long full lashes as she inquisitively watched the three. She was quite knowledgeable in the old lore, though no expert, she doubted anyone would be considered an expert these days. She said nothing as Creolis finished his story. She simply watched them, deep in contemplation. She was quite sure he believed his story to be true, equally sure she was that he was not telling her the whole truth. It was not of much consequence either way, but the idea of the Lost Eight being real fascinated her. “These artifacts you claim this army is after. You say this Broslak has one in his possession. May I see it?”

 

Desoil felt unsure, but regardless he hesitantly reached for the crown. Much to their surprise, the crown was not forthcoming. Try as he might, Desoil could not seem to pry it loose. Elris chuckled after a few minutes of Desoil’s frustrated attempts. “Remember what the Loremaster said, they are like things alive. I’d venture that the crown does not trust our dear Praetor.”

 

Janice quirked a brow in Elris’ direction, “Oh, and I should trust you Elris? Vagabond, Wanderer, Thief. I’ve heard plenty of tales about you but it doesn’t matter. Creolis, without physical proof of course I have nothing but your word to go on, and though I believe knights above reproach, I’m not sure the council will agree.” She turned her attention back to Creolis, “I’ll have to make a full report before the council and see what they will decide to do. Until then, I’d prefer if you and your companions would remain in the city.” She gave them a dismissive wave.

 

“Of course Praetor.” Creolis responded formally, as they stood to depart. Creolis was a bit flustered now, standing outside the Praetor’s office. He was in disbelief at her questioning of their story. Though he had left small inconsequential parts out, he had told her nothing but the truth. He mind gnawed at his thoughts as they traveled the well-lit halls back to the entrance of Kynny’s great hall. He was paying so little attention he never even noticed as they nearly ran right into Dearn.

 

“Creolis!” Dearn said loudly, breaking his brother from his thoughts, a warm genuine smile on his face. “It’s great to see you. I was so worried when we got word that Fort Konway had been attacked.” His smile faded a moment then vigorously returned as he entangled Creolis in a bear hug. “What of Kynnory, and our parents?” He inquired, releasing him from the hug with a grunt.

 

Creolis rubbed the back of his head smiling awkwardly, “Um, let’s discuss this somewhere else. Join us for a drink at the inn.” It came out sounding not like a question, but more like a brotherly command. “Oh, where are my manner, Dearn, this is Desoil. Desoil, my brother Dearn.” He suddenly thought to make introductions between the two.

 

Desoil smiled in his own way, expecting Dearn to be taken aback by his unusual appearance. To his credit though, Dearn did not bat an eye, simply nodding and offering his hand in friendship, a elated grin on his face. Desoil took it without thought, noticing the man’s strange gaze at his head, as if something was off. He said nothing however as the four made the return trip to the Flowing Cup. None of them noticed the figure bobbing a short distance behind them in the crowds.   They took a table in a corner of the common room, ignoring the curious glances of the few patrons this early in the day. After receiving a round of drinks from the barmaid, Creolis began to relate the tale of their journey so far in a hushed tone to Dearn. He had decided not to divulge Dearn’s identity, or Elris’ role in all this, unsure if he would even believe the outlandish tale. He paused after breaking the news to him that their mother had died in Amlily. He seemed to take the news as well as could be expected, though all present could see the pain wash over Dearn as he heard the words. The haunting sorrow crept into his eyes, threatening to spill out.

 

“So what are you going to do now that you’ve warned the Praetor about this Belladria?" Dearn asked, his voice strained with the extra effort to sound calm, when his heart was telling him to flee for darkness and seclusion.

 

“Well for now we are waiting on the Praetor, but I know Elris wants us to continue to search for the Artifacts, Belladria’s army is already strong enough with just one. There is no telling what she would be capable of if she obtained more.” A small shudder ran through Creolis as he spoke the words, his mind thinking back to the terrifying power the crown had shown in Desoil’s hands. He wondered silently about the power of the others.

 

“What about you Desoil? I’m not well versed in the Broslak culture, but I was under the impression that they didn’t have a monarchy.” Dearn asked quizzically, staring at the silver lizard man.

 

His hairless brow rose in confusion, “What do you mean? We are a tribal people.”

 

“Then why are you wearing a crown?” Dearn asked looking confused himself.

 

“Wait, you can see the crown?” Elris asked surprised. This had been unexpected development. They had withheld knowledge of the artifact purposefully from Dearn, now it seemed they would have to be forthcoming. After a few tense moments of silence, Elris finally related that part of the tale to Dearn, who seemed excited that they had an equalizer versus the might of Belladria.

 

“Surely the council can use the crown to help fight against her?” Dearn asked thinking to fight fire with fire.

 

“Desoil only has limited control of the crowns power. Nothing on the scale of mastery that Belladria possesses over hers, and we’re not even sure which Artifact she has. The crowns power might be inconsequential against hers.” said Elris, the surety of his words voiced in his tone. He had seen firsthand the devastating power of all the Lost Eight. “No, it will be much safer if we keep the crown with us. Only the heirs of Elia will truly be able to stop her. Thyrinn’s armies might delay her, but I doubt they will be able to stop her outright.”

 

Dearn sighed, hoping they had found an easy solution to the problem, only to have his dreams dashed just as quickly. He excused himself, feigning fatigue as an excuse to find the solitude his soul was craving. He left them to their own devices as he nearly ran to the safety of his simple temple dwelling. Tears fell freely as he crashed onto his bed. He was not sure if the tears were of sadness at the loss of his mother, or relief at the safety of the rest of his family. Those thoughts mixed with the strange series of events playing out around him, had his mind in a tizzy, unable to still itself. He could already tell it would be a restless night.

 

***

 

A sneak. That is what she felt like, but what choice did she have. Dearn had been avoiding her all day it seemed. So, she did what came naturally. He had appeared at the Temple of Siladia early that morning, right after devotions, much like any other day. However, unlike most days, he had headed for the Temple of Kynny. She found it slightly off for him, it was not somewhere he usually visited. She grumbled a little to herself as he entered, considering for a moment entering the secret tunnels within the complex. She dismissed the idea quickly, having no clue where he was going within, and finding him that way might well be impossible. He could easily finish his business inside and slip out without her ever knowing. Instead, she found a perch on a curb nearby, so she could keep an eye out. She was sure he was up to something, and be damned if she was not going to nose around until she found out exactly what it was. She sat around for what seemed like hours. Basking in the early morning sun, attempting to use it to keep the brisk chilled air at bay. A few locals waved at her as traffic on the avenue began to pick up. She entertained the thought of going searching for vendors as the gnawing pains of hunger began to fill her, but thought better of it, not wanting to risk missing Dearn coming from the temple.

 

Finally, she thought to herself as she spotted him exiting the temple. She quickly ducked out of view, watching him. She was surprised to see him in the company of others, usually he was what she would have called a recluse, herself excluded of course. She looked over his companions slowly, intrigued. One was a tall dark haired man, not much older then Dearn, wearing full regalia of the Kynnorian Knights. A small gasp escaped her as she took in another, he was a lizard man. She vaguely remembered stories from the clergy of Drnae, about the black-scaled Broslak of the northern swamps; this one was oddly colored, silver scales gleaming in the sunlight. The final man, stopped her in her tracks. She froze in place, a cold chill running up her spine, raising goose bumps all across her body. She instantly recognized him, even from this distance. It was the gray eyes that gave it away, sad haunted eyes holding so much pain and wisdom within them. She ducked away as he looked in her direction, terrified that she had been spotted. Her heart was racing as she stood there. Once again, her dreams had been right, he was here, though she did not understand what that meant, she felt as if it was significant. She peeked from her hiding place, seeing them flowing into the crowds towards the central market. She dashed from where she had hid herself and began to cautiously follow them from a safe distance.

 

They ended up settling into the Flowing Cup Inn. Of course she waited outside, smoothly weaving in and out of the crowds, trying not to look out of place. Desperately she wanted to go inn, announce herself and ask the million questions dancing about her mind. Instead, she forced herself to wait, to continue her spying as best she could manage. Finally, Dearn appeared from within the inn. She stopped, her gaze locked onto him, he was obviously lost in his thoughts as he left, for he never even noticed as he walked right by her. He seemed almost disoriented to her, his face a mask of mixed emotions as he trudged along. Though curiosity was eating at her, she decided not to follow, feeling that sometimes it was better to leave someone to their thoughts than to intrude. Though she tended to be a brusque overly excitable girl, even she could see that he needed time alone. So, her mind told her beyond a doubt, that it was indeed time for food.

 

***

 

Of course Janice had immediately arranged for an emergency session of the council yet again, to inform them of things that had been brought to her attention. Now, the day after, the three, joined also by Dearn, sat once again before the Praetor. “While the council doesn’t dare impugn the word of a knight, they don’t feel there is adequate evidence to support your claims.” She began in a serious forthright tone. “However, the incursion of this army into our nation is being taken seriously. The knighthoods along with other forces under our command are most certainly going to be mustered.”

 

Creolis felt his blood begin to boil as she spoke the words, though they had not outright called him a liar, the insinuation was there. “So they’re going to ignore the threat represented by the Lost Eight?”

 

She smiled facetiously at his words, apparently not entirely believing his story, “They, I’m afraid to say don’t believe the story to be much more than a fairy tale to scare the people with thoughts of older times. Regardless, you are to be reassigned to the Fourth Expeditionary Force. They will be traveling to Amlily, then onto Calle to assess the situation.”

 

This of course only further enraged Creolis, the base mockery and glib handling of the situation. Then to be told he was to be forced to turn from his current self imposed mission to combat an enemy he considered secondary to the prudent course of action required. “I will not.” He said, stunning those gathered, causing Janice to raise a brow in ire. He refused to wait for her response, the rage seething within him. He simply stood and stormed from the chamber with an arrogant grace. Owing her and the knighthood no allegiance, his three companions apologetically excused themselves to chase after their friend. 

 

 “Are they out of their minds?” Creolis asked as his friends caught up to him. “Belladria is raging across the country and they want to face her head on. They don’t believe me? She doesn’t care about land or money, she just wants the eight. They want to ignore the true danger. What if she gets two or three or four of the eight, what will she be capable of then?” His comments were aimed mostly at Elris. “I’ve seen firsthand a portion of the power they contain. The Adrari are powerful in their own right, but what chance do they have against that kind of magic?”

 

“So you’ll just up and do what you want then?” Dearn asked, his tone subdued.

 

“I’ll do what is right Dearn. Elris, where to next? If they won’t listen to me then we will find the Eight ourselves.”

 

Elris sighed slightly, “We go to where it ended, Dalsor. There are things that should be seen there.” He took a second to watch Dearn, then looked back to Creolis. “You didn’t tell him.” It sounded somewhere between a question and an admission.

 

Creolis laughed letting his rage carry him, “Of course not, it is not something that finds its way to your tongue easily. Hey, you’re not really my brother. You are the heir of a kingdom across the Qemara. Our family friend kidnapped you when you were a child and put you in hiding. Oh, and you’re the last hope to stop Belladria, because only descendants of the original Eight can wield the artifacts properly.” He stopped, realizing that his rant was in front of his brother, who was staring at him dumbfounded.

 

“Dearn wait.” It was the only thing he could think to say as he watched Dearn run off. He had angrily told Dearn all the things he needed to know, but that by the same token he did not want him to know. What would he do now he wondered to himself as he watched his brother’s figure fade into the crowds.

 

***

 

A prince? A king? Kaelina thought to herself as she shadowed Dearn. And she thought her life was complicated, she smiled to herself at the thought of it. Could it be true though? Why would he say it if it weren’t? And who is this Belladria, and the mysterious gray eyed man from her vision, how was he mixed up in all this. She was positively giddy with excitement. She of course knew little of the details, and had little true notion of how Dearn’s world had just been floored. One thing she was sure of, was that her dream had been right. The gray eyed man, they called Elris, was here in Thyrinn, just as she had predicted. That meant something, she had to tell Dearn, make him listen, even if he did not want to.

 

She caught him in the courtyard before the Temple of Siladia. The weather seemed to her as enraged as Dearn looked. A brisk chill wind had set in, brusquely nipping at her, causing her cheeks and ears to brighten to a blood red, almost like a blush, her tangled mass of crimson locks danced in it, long singular strands which made up her bangs whipping about wildly. “Confound it Dearn.” She yelled out high pitched and exasperated as she attempted to stop him.

 

Dearn turned, giving her a quick once over. His face contorted in a hundred different emotions all vying for dominance in his mind. “I’ve not got the time presently Kaelina. Other more pressing matters have been brought to bare.”

 

“Like your brother miraculously showing up alive. With that strange looking lizard man.” Her voice nearly shrill with insolence, he would hear what she had to say.

 

He paused at this, only a moment. His eyes narrowed, “Spying on me were you?”

 

“Not that you really left me much choice. Traipsing about, ignoring me, avoiding me for the last few days.” Her defense came out as an indignant huff. “Now I won’t claim to know exactly what is going on, because my spying as you call it only gives me half the story. I do know there is a lot of talk of war coming for us all, and I don’t exactly know what all that was back there, but I had to tell you. My dream I told you about a few weeks ago. About the gray eyed man coming to Thyrinn. Well he is here. It is your brother’s friend. The one you call Elris, as soon as I saw him, I knew it was him. This, all of this that is happening means something, something immense.” Her ranting ended, she felt she had gotten her point across as best she could, so she stormed off.

 

Dearn was dumbfounded, finding himself chastised by the lithe nothing ragamuffin of a girl who had just left him standing in the open courtyard. He did agree thinking on it, this old myth of the War of Eight and their artifacts. Elris showing up with Creolis and Desoil, the strangely colored lizard man and his Crown, supposed of Elia. He figured she was right, He could not in good conscience allow them to go running off into the wilderness alone, at least not without finding out the whole story.

 

Surprisingly he found them readying their gear to horseback, preparing apparently to depart forthwith without pomp or ceremony. “Really? You drop an angry rant like that on me. How I’m the heir of some far off kingdom, and not really your brother. That Elris spirited me away as a child, and then you’re all just going to up and leave?”

 

“Of course not,” Elris said with a large smile. “We’ve got a horse for you as well. Creolis said you would be back to hear the whole story. So get ready and saddle up, It’s a tale worth hearing, but you’ll have to hear it en route.”

 

“So you really mean to go to Dalsor?” Dearn did seem a bit concerned by this.

 

“Of course, it will be fine. There are a right many things you need to know.” A coy smile began to play across his face.

Chapter 14: Strangers

Dearn was silent in his saddle. Elris had lain out the story for him as they began their journey. Leaving out only his confession of Belladria, and of course the secret he refused to give anyone, who the other heir was. He did not press the issue, his mind having trouble enough absorbing what he had learned. A stolen heir to some kingdom halfway across the world, hidden away with the Kynra family, though to his credit Creolis acted no differently. Still, his supposed ability to control the Lost Eight’s magnificent power, Desoil’s strange appearance and Elris evidently over two thousand years old and Renad’s Tempest no less, all grand and outlandish ideas.

 

It had been decided soon after their rushed departure that it would unwise to try to make it straight away to Dalsor with what little provisions they had brought, not to mention horses simply were not made for a trip through the Desolation. A hardier better-suited animal would be needed if an incursion into that blasted wasteland. So, they headed to the northwest of Thyrinn, making for a small town, little more than a trading post of a village situated on the edge of Lake Tril, known simply as Bemo.

 

It was extremely late in the evening the second night of the three-day trip to Bemo. Three of the companions were fast asleep, and the fire was burning low. Only Elris was awake, his turn on the evening watch. He sat relatively absentminded before the fire poking at it with a large stick. None of them really expected any trouble, though the danger was there, it was small. That of course would change as they moved closer to The Desolation. Reaching over he grabbed a medium sized chunk of wood they had gathered as they made camp earlier in the evening, tossing it into the dying fire. Winter was beginning to come to a close, but a strong chill still held its grip on the land, especially this late at night. Elris sighed a little to himself reflectively. Having to talk about his past, even in as limited a way as he had was hard on him, but necessary he felt as the search for The Lost Eight had began in earnest and the race to prevent another apocalyptic war was on. The sound of rustling in a nearby bush snapped Elris back to reality. He perked up slightly, figuring it to be just some local vermin nocturnally rummaging about, but was taking no chance. Slowly he got up from where he sat and began strolling about the campsite in a random fashion. As he neared the brush where the sound had emanated from, he suddenly leapt into action, dashing over into it with practiced grace. Hiding in the brush he grabbed a small lithe form that he could not make out in the darkness. He pulled the small struggling figure up from its hiding place into the firelight; he found himself staring into terrified wide pale green eyes and he could not help but gasp as he roared uncontrollably, “You!”

 

His outburst roused the camp instantly, as he brought a slightly struggling mass of tangled red hair to rest by the fire. Dearn rubbed his eyes blurrily, looking at the figure Elris had just deposited fireside, then jumped up astonished, “Kaelina, what in Renad’s name are you doing here?”

 

“What is going on? Who is this girl Dearn?” Creolis asked perplexed.

 

“She’s my friend from Thyrinn. One of the cities orphan’s.” Dearn offered as way of explanation. “Why did you follow us from the city Kaelina?” Dearn said

 

“I was curious. With everything going on, I couldn’t just sit in Thyrinn and wonder.”

 

“Well that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Added Elris. “Cause as soon it’s morning we’re taking you back.”

 

This of course caused protest from her. She started shivering from the cold as well as her nervousness at the idea of being sent back. Dearn quickly offered her a warm fur-lined cloak, asking if she was hungry. Of course she was, cold and hungry, tired as well from having to rush on foot to keep pace with them. They fed her, and she ate silently as they discussed her fate. Finally, it was decided that she would accompany them, and they would drop her back in Thyrinn on the return trip. All of this of course was much to Elris’ protestation. Kaelina sighed with relief, both from the decision and having a full stomach, and the knowledge that she would no longer have to run to keep up with them, as Dearn had volunteered to allow her to ride with him.

 

The next day they hit the trail again, heading quickly for Bemo. Kaelina sat happily astride Dearn’s horse as they rode. Creolis looked over at her as they rode, inspecting her in the daylight. He thought she looked rather a mess and voiced his opinion. “You look like you could use a wash, a brush, and maybe a dress.” He said with a laugh as she gave him a horrified look.

 

They arrived in Bemo in the early afternoon. The town, if you could call it that, was quite small, consisting of only ten or so buildings, including a large, if worn down inn. It was here that they stopped for the day, to gather the supplies they would need for the treacherous foray into The Desolation. The innkeeper, a man who introduced himself as Joria, and his wife Maria, greeted them warmly as they entered. Then Maria saw the young girl traveling with them and became all flustered at the general disarray of her appearance. She hustled the young girl away. Elris took Desoil to the traders post, they figured to buy a few Danu, and possibly hire an experienced guide to join them on the dangerous trek. Creolis, and Dearn went to buy supplies for the journey, also as Dearn suggested, more suitable clothes for Kaelina. They could not very well have her journeying with them looking like a common city beggar.

 

Dearn and Creolis quickly procured what was needed, paying in advance and assuring the proprietor that they would be by in the morning to pick everything up. All except the clothing for Kaelina. Creolis in mirth at first suggested they actually get her a dress, but in the end, they settled for clothes more suitable to traveling, trousers and a simple blouse. They then left to join the other two. They found them nearby, having just agreed on a price for five Danu. They joined up with them on the way to meet a guide recommended by the Danu breeder. They found him at a small house, the last one in the town. He was sitting in an old rocking chair on his porch. He was old; probably well into his sixties from his appearance. Wiry white hair, what was left of it anyways covered his head. Well-tanned wrinkled skin covered his entire body. He introduced himself as Jerrance, also known roundabouts as Old One-Eye, due to the patch covering one of his eyes.

 

Hastily they explained that they needed an experienced guide for travel into The Desolation. He agreed that he was probably the most experienced within a hundred miles. He inquired what they were traveling through that accursed place for. He was in disbelief as they informed him that they were not actually going through it, they were actually going to Dalsor. He laughed at first, assuming they were joking, no one went to Dalsor, the ruins of the ancient battleground for The War of Eight was somewhere even the most foolhardy traveling into The Desolation avoided. At first he almost downright refused, then reconsidered. Maybe it would be a large expedition worth large sums of money, but no, he was told when he asked how large a force he would be guiding. There was no force, just the four of them, plus a small orphan girl from Thyrinn. Old One-Eye laughed in their faces, “Surely you boys are putting me on. Did Garrette put you up to this?” He asked as he laughed, thinking this was some kind of joke.

 

“I assure you, we are quite serious.” Elris told him matter-of-factly. “We don’t know a Garrette and we are going. We need someone experienced in traveling through there to make sure we don’t fall afoul of any sand traps or other dangers.”

 

“What about all the creatures? I wouldn’t go to Dalsor without an army.”

 

“We have myself, a Knight of Kynny, a Cleric of Siladia and of course our dear friend Desoil here. We will be perfectly safe, Desoil himself is a one man army as it were.”

 

“While I’ve never met a Broslak before, but I’ve heard they’re tough. Yet I’ve seen what the inhabitants of The Desolation are like, and I’d say he’d be eaten alive.” He replied, gazing hard at the group with his one good eye.

 

“Desoil, would you give our friend here a demonstration?” Elris asked.

 

Creolis stepped to the side with a bemused smile. Desoil closed his eyes, tapping into the power of the Crown of Elia. With now practiced ease he felt his body slip into what he was calling his battle form. He grew large impaling antlers this time, his signature leathery wings, settled on a double spiked tail and for One-Eye’s benefit settled on blades nearly as long as broadswords on each of his fingers. All this while he grew in size to over seven feet, causing him to look much like a hulking metallic wall of death. Dearn quivered slightly as he watched the transformation, not having seen it before himself, but it was more than that. He felt the pulsing power of the crown emanating forth from it. It touched his skin, crawled along it like something alive. Tantalizing it was, whispering dreams of unimaginable power to him. He almost swooned from the sensation, but it faded quickly as the transformation ended. To his credit One-Eye seemed impressed and after much haggling finally agreed to guide them, though his price might have been considered extortion by others.

 

Across the small town, Kaelina soaked in a hot bath Maria had drawn for her. They chatted together as Maria scrubbed her clean, using a homemade tallow soap to wash the matted mass. She closed her eyes as she dipped her head into the warm soothing water, which was when she felt it. A rush starting in her toes almost like a tingling sensation. It moved swiftly up her body like electricity, and then it was simply gone. She shrugged it off as she exited the tub and dried herself; she donned a simple sleeping gown Maria had laying about. She then sat patiently as Maria produced a long ivory-toothed comb and began the painstaking process of removing the tangles from her hair. Kaelina took it as well as she could, only occasionally grunting in displeasure when the comb would snag painfully. All told, she had finally finished as the four were returning for an evening meal from their tasks that day. Creolis found himself at a loss for words as they entered; Kaelina milled about the room, helping Maria set the table. Her matted mess of hair now flowed gracefully down her back, smooth porcelain skin, now clean and he noticed marked here and there with small freckles. She smiled at them, those soft pale green eyes dancing behind her thick lashes. They all sat to relax for a hot meal, for once in his life Creolis barely seemed to eat.

Chapter 15: Old One-Eye

Danu, what disgusting creatures Creolis thought to himself as he sat astride one. Large hulking beasts of burden nearly three times the size of a horse. Shaggy things with short blunt snouts specifically bred to endure the harsh heat and dryness of The Desolation. The thing that bothered him the most though, was the awful smell. Kaelina laughed at his complaints, rubbing her Danu’s head affectionately. She thought they were cute, Two days so far. At least as far as Creolis could tell it had only been two days. With the way time was bleeding in on itself, it could have been weeks. The Desolation was just that, a flowing endless sea of sand as far as he could see. It not only seemed a cursed place, it felt like it in a way that Creolis could not quite explain. Everyone it seemed had noticed it, as soon as they had crossed into the outer edges. It was like passing through, as invisible barrier that told life it was not allowed to exist. He just was not quite sure. Up till this point, their trip had been uneventful, no rapacious monsters or crazed creatures attacking them, just the endless sandy dunes of The Desolation. Mostly it had just been them listening to Old One-Eye drone on and on about stories from what he called, his glory days; a proclamation that amused the companions.

 

Bounty runs he called them, during his youth when he was a braver man, current situation excluded of course. Down on their luck men or just those seeking the excitement and danger had come from all over Mris to the small trading post of Bemo. He had grown up listening to the stories of crazed monsters and heroic journeys into The Desolation. So, as soon as he had become old enough, he had joined up with the first group he could making the perilous trip to hunt creatures, worth a small fortune in bounty by the Thyrinn government. Hundreds he had been on by his reckoning, each more daring than the last. He was all joyous talk and heroism as he recalled his old tales, and then grew somber.

 

He had of course gotten his nickname on one of these adventures. A party of almost thirty had left Bemo on that fateful trip. Several days into their patrols, they had already racked up nearly two-dozen heads without so much as a single injured man to boot. They were relaxing one evening after a successful day of hunting. That is when it happened; a small pack of Sand Terrors came upon them. Oh this was not what they were really called, it was just what the hunters and other locals and traders called them. Giant sand burrowing worms with many tentacle-like appendages about their long bodies. They could grow to enormous sizes and were notoriously hard to kill. Almost the entire expedition had been wiped out that night, only three men having had survived. He had lost sight in one of his eyes that night, though he had sustained no real injury to it that he could tell. He always claimed that it was the horrors of that night that had turned his eye milky. “After that of course, I couldn’t really be a hunter anymore. So, I hung up my weapons and took to being a guide. Mostly the work is slow, not many cross The Desolation. Back in my younger years it was mostly traders, bring back loads of the prized red granite from where The Desolation touched the Qemara Mountains. Nowadays though, most of that trade is done through the shipping lanes.”

 

“Well that’s quite a life you’ve lived.” Dearn commented as the story finished, the others adding in nods of agreement, except for Elris. “You know if you’d like. I can try my hand at healing it. Siladia is known to be most kind.”

 

Old One-Eye smiled fondly at him, touched with just a bit of sadness, “Alas lad, I don’t think that’s in the cards for me. Several followers of Siladia have been through Bemo over these long years, all have offered and none have been able to cure it. An affliction of the vileness of The Desolation they say it is.”

 

Dearn pondered this for a moment confused, before Elris chimed in to enlighten him. “They say that this place is cursed, nothing grows, it never rains, and even the power of the gods and goddess don’t work the same way here. As if the land itself refuses to allow any magic’s to work as they should, after the devastation that was done to it. The various priesthoods and even the Adrari have tales of their powers working oddly, if at all, within this place.” He winked at Dearn, “Of course they didn’t have part of the power that cursed the land with them either.” A whisper, meant only for Dearn’s benefit.

 

“Still sir, you’ve agreed to guide us through here at not little risk to yourself. I would like to at least have a try at it. If it is as you say and I fail, then you will be no worse for the wear.” Dearn spoke boldly, quite sure of himself.

 

He sighed a little in response but did not further protest. Dearn urged his Danu closer to him, bringing it in stride with him. Quietly he raised a hand, letting it hover near the patch covering the man’s eye. Whispering aloud but inaudible, he sent a prayer to Siladia, asking for her divine favor in returning what the man had lost. That his help was needed for their mission and that he should bear witness to events that might shape the world. Dearn finished his prayer and waited. Nothing happened after a few moments and the old man smiled at him, “Don’t worry lad, I give thanks for the attempt but.”

 

The man’s words never reached Dearn’s ears. He was still looking at him, but it simply appeared he had just stopped without explanation. He felt warmth on his finger, the ring he wore in dedication to Siladia flared with an inner heat. The tingling of it traveled throughout his body, but was not hot. In fact, the oppressive heat of The Desolation was gone as well. The arid scornful wind replaced with a cool spring breeze. A knowing feeling of peacefulness settled over as time caught up with him. Old One-Eye must have felt it to, or at least something, because he had indeed broken off mid-sentence and was just staring dumbfounded at Dearn. Everyone gathered as he removed the patch from his eye. Shocked silence and the whistle of wind blown sand was all that was heard as they watched the milky whiteness of his bad eye begin to fade to another color. Kaelina herself gasped, it returned not to the icy blue color of his other eye. Instead, it slipped to a vibrant deep forest green color, similar to that of Dearn’s.

 

Old One-Eye started to speak, the words never left his mouth. A shrill cry echoed through the air, taking everyone attention from the miraculous events of moments before. Racing across the dunes at them, was a collection of Razariks, the creatures were a good foot and a half taller than even Creolis, who was tall for a human. They reminded him of small harmless mantises of the woods of his homeland. These grotesquely large creatures were not like those he thought, as he and his friends drew their weapons and braced themselves. The Razariks were here for blood.

 

Old One-Eye watched the scene in terror with both eyes wide. He was unarmed, relying on the present company for protection. Immediately he could see that his decision to trust them had not been misplaced. As before Desoil warped into the savage creature, built solely for combat, Creolis had drawn his overly large Ejora blade and dismounted, standing stoically awaiting the charge. Elris stood next to Dearn, his strange sadistic looking blades in hand, while Dearn firmly held a large spiked mace, a firm unwavering expression on his face. Kaelina had moved back from the others, closer to Old One-Eye. She was unarmed and looked positively horrified at the creatures stampeding towards them.

 

Six Razariks raced into them, making strange clicking noises at each other as they came. Straight away, the companions were in a fight for their very lives. Outnumbered but well trained they leapt into action. Desoil and Creolis each charging the creatures with surprising ferocity. Creolis’ telltale Adrari flame visible, but weak, as he blocked a huge stabbing blade-like arm of the Razarik before him. Desoil was a wall of carnage, acting on instinct, driven with the powers of the Crown of Elia. Elris and Dearn stood back-to-back fending off three of the vicious creatures that had encircled them. One-Eye for his part stood protectively hovering near Kaelina as he watched the bloodshed unfold, though unarmed, he knew that if push came to shove he would do his best to help. One of the creatures fell, several limbs missing before being gored by Desoil’s horns. Another now, this ones exoskeleton covered head crushed beneath the force of a well-placed blow from Dearn’s mace. Desoil moved quickly, joining Elris and Dearn, charging a Razarik from the rear.

 

Kaelina watched in awe, very little had real violence entered her life in such a real way. Yes, she had her vivid terrible dreams, and there had been the attack on the temple, yet this was different, carnal and vivid, unfolding before her eyes. Her friends, fighting for their lives and by extension her own, it all struck her with fear. She could not fathom how they could do it, the practiced ease with which they wielded their weapons, despite the mortal danger and threat of death looming before them. She watched one, then another go down, Desoil move to aid his friends, but most of all she was transfixed by Creolis. In the heat, he was sweating profusely, standing firm against a creature nearly four feet taller then himself. His near perfect precision with a blade nearly as tall as himself was awe-inspiring. A blocked stabbing limb, followed by a severing cut to another. He flowed in and around the creature with strained ease. The pale blue light, she had seen from other Adrari, flowed with him like a phantom dancer in the shimmer caused by the heat.

 

Time slowed as she watched, and her awe turned to trepidation. One of the Razarik had moved from the main group, whom were still locked in pitched battle. It was stalking towards Creolis. Her entire body was trembling, turn and see it she urged silently, unable to find her voice to yell a warning. She could tell he was unaware however, so transfixed on the creature before him, biting at him with its huge clicking mandibles and stabbing with its one remaining razor-like arm. It had crept perilously close now, he had no warning, and she stood thunderstruck, unable to move.

 

Elris launched himself from a crouch, barreling right into the face of the creature before him. He did not blink as a giant scythe-like arm swiped by, narrowly missing him. His hooked stiletto caught the Razarik in its plated shoulder. Using his momentum, he swung under the massive arm, rolling up behind the creature onto its back. Immediately he latched onto the creature with his legs and began repeatedly striking it with his scimitar in the neck, hacking furiously until finally the creature’s head rolled from its body, still clicking spastically as it struck the ground. Elris rode the creature to the ground as its headless body slumped forward into the sand. He spared a glance at Desoil and Dearn, who now had their enemy on the defensive, hacking at it as it attempted to fend them off while backing away. Then he too saw it, a short distance away. Creolis, engaged with a heavily injured Razarik. His attention solely focused on finishing off the wounded assailant. The other Razarik creeping up on him from behind, unseen, unchallenged. Poised it was, to end the young knights life. He hesitated, unsure. Could he cross the distance in time? No, the twenty yards or so he could never traverse in time. A yelled warning, maybe, but the distraction could prove fatal from either side.

 

It broke free like a flood-burdened dam. In the earth, it came like the vibration of a tremor. In the air, it licked across the skin with calm assurances, and heated strength. The pale weakened light of the Adrari flared with brilliance before unseen. Time was unmoving in this moment; Kaelina felt all these things ripple through her at once, as well as something else. It was a dark promise whispered in her mind, seductive and sly it sounded to her. Offering her power, struggling with her to acquiesce to its will and be free. It crawled through her. He was going to die. She could stop it. Make a choice it screamed at her, and she did.

 

It started as a soundless roar, as she pointed her hands at the vile mutated creation of the War of Eight. Such vileness it was, created from a time of greed and lust for power. Two millennia later, the havoc caused by their greed was going to take something away from her that she had never had, a sense of belonging, of friendship, of a closeness with other people. The rage crackled through her, moving by force of will and instinct. A courageous lithe freckled thing, starkly white against the tan of the sand, red hair fluttering with the same inner malice in the hot breeze. It reached her fingers and was released like raw power. A white hot crackling bolt of unrefined power arced from her towards the Razarik, sizzling through the already air. It struck the creature as it hovered behind Creolis, poised to strike. The creature was stunned, unable to move, as the lightning coursed through it, cooking all the liquefied innards. Seconds later, the smoking creature simply fell over, never having known what hit it. The flash and the power left her exhausted, and she slumped to the ground darkness taking her. The only remnant of the overpowering force of nature she had released, a strange trail leading towards the Razariks body. A line of sand turned to glass.

 

Only two people had watched the strange outburst. Elris and Old One-Eye. Both stood, as if hypnotized, unmoving. One-Eye because he was just at a loss, unable to understand what he had just witnessed, Elris because he did understand. He was not sure he believed, but he had seen it with his own eyes, felt it in the air. He was one of the few that had the memory to know. Magic, real magic, unseen by him or anyone else in over two thousand years, had just been unleashed.

 

Glancing around carefully, Elris realized with relief that no one else had seen what happened, other than that old fool. Ignoring the remnants of the battle, which was winding down, as Dearn and Desoil were quickly overpowering their opponent, as Creolis was finishing off the already wounded creature before him, he rushed Old One-Eye, grabbing him by the collar to shake the startled man from his stupor. Leaning in close, his cold gray eyes meeting the now mismatched pair that were staring at him frightened, he hissed, “I know you saw that, but you didn’t see it. Do you understand?” One-Eye was looking at him with a look of confusion, “Let me put it like this. If you breathe a word of this, you’ll be Old No-Eyes.” He dropped the startled man, sure that either One-Eye would remain silent, or he would carry out his threat, though he preferred the former. Quickly he moved over, scooping the unconscious Kaelina up to carry her away from the strange glass trail near her.

 

The battle ended, everyone regrouped. No major injuries, just minor abrasions and cuts, which were tended to quickly, and the general fatigue of combat. Elris quickly took credit for the slaying of the Razarik that had tried to sneak up on Creolis, with a resounding agreement from One-Eye who claimed to have seen it all. Kaelina’s condition was quietly blamed on the heat and excitement of her first battle, and surprising his companions, Elris fanatically requested to be in charge of caring for her. Dearn argued at first, as he was a cleric of Siladia, but Elris would not hear of it, and finally Dearn was forced to relent.

 

After gathering themselves, which required a little more work than originally intended, as the shock of the fight had caused several of their Danu to flee, and it took a bit of time for Desoil and Creolis to corral them. Finally, they managed to resume their progress, and after a few hours, night began to overtake them. Oddly, there was not much change to the weather as night fell, another quirk of The Desolation. Then, much to Elris’ relief Kaelina regained consciousness. He had her separated from the others, who were meandering about the camp doing various trivial things. Immediately after awakening, she began to try to rise, trying to figure out what had happened. Elris quickly silenced her. “I saw what happened, and yes, you saved Creolis, he’s fine, they all are. I know you have questions, and I know they’ve all told you who and what I am. Right now, you have to keep this to yourself, the others won’t understand. You just have to believe me for right now, that you’re very special, more special than I could have known. Soon, I will explain what I can, but for now you need to rest.”

 

She nodded meekly, unsure. Her mind still held an exhausted haze about it. “May I have a drink?” She managed to hoarsely ask, her voice cracked and dry. She was rewarded with a warm smile and a quick return on a canteen, from which she drank heavily. The water could not have been more amazing; she felt it was like tasting heaven. She sighed as she returned it and settled back onto her sleeping roll. She let sleep reclaim her, she was sure she had never been so tired in her entire life.  

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Texte: Duron Crejaro
Lektorat: Duron Crejaro
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.04.2015

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Dedicated to all those who urged my writing on