The Lost Eight by Duron Crejaro (read me a book .TXT) 📕

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.

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