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

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