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

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