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

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