Leaving Paradise by Christopher Pastrana (new ebook reader .TXT) 📕

            "You were so cold and you wouldn't wake so I decided that some heat could do you some good." The old man sounded sincere, if not just a bit amused with his actions. It had been a long time since Reinhardt heard another person’s voice, so many years.

            "What is your name, old man?"

            "I'm Edward Gardener."

            "Entalian? Are we on the Greater Expanse?" Since his eyes were still blurry he closed them, letting them rest. The back of the carriage was warm and sheltered from rain or snow. It felt strange too be moving around freely again.

            "You know your nations well, large man. I am a lower caste merchant from Ental, but we are not on the Greater Expanse, we happen to be on the lesser, Icilee to be more specific." The two major continents on the planet were the Greater and Lesser Expanses. All six nations held portions of what used to be the Erauvian Empire, even if they had been divided by millenniums of war.

            "Icilee? Last I remember I was in Duzee. How did I end up back here?" Reinhardt's memory was foggy but he remembered bits and pieces of a fight...no a war. How long had he been asleep?

            "My family and I found you a few weeks back lying face down in the snow near the mountain borders between Duzee and Icilee. We picked you up and brought you with us. I have very limited knowledge in healing so we kept you warm and decided it was best too bring you too a family friend. She's a healer in Ela Meda, the capital of Icilee."

            "I used to live here in Icilee, I know what Ela Meda is, though I have never been there myself." Just the thought of the capital city made him angry. Within the heavily fortified city lay thieves, bandits, and worst of all, the elementalists' serving their corrupt master.

            "We all guessed that you came from the area. Icileans are often times far larger than those from Duzee, and from the looks of you... there was no possible way you could be from the mountains." The old man wasn't making a joke. Reinhardt knew he was heads taller than the average Duzee man, but even for an Icilean he was tall.

            With effort he opened his eyes again and saw that they were beginning to regain focus. The old man sat beside a small table that had a large candle sitting on. Flames flicked every time the carriage bounced. A soft glow illuminated everything around them, setting what Reinhardt felt was a relaxed tone.

            At first glance even he could tell that the man was not a low caste merchant. Everything in the room was decorated with bright colors and decorative designs. Even though the lighting made everything look dull, it was clear that everything was new and expensive. Edward Gardener was not a simple merchant.

            "You have mentioned your family a few times Va'yas Gardener. Are they nearby?" The formality of the question took the old man by surprise and he let out a throaty half cough laugh. 

            "You have it wrong Icilean, I am not of the Va'yas. I am merely a Ras, lowest level of traders in the empire. Thank you for the promotion, it was a kind gesture." With a move of his hand he pushed some cloth aside and waved someone inside. All of the rocking movement stopped and a few moments later an elderly woman made her way inside the carriage. Her smile was looked genuine but Reinhardt could feel that there was something else hidden behind it. 

            "This is my wife Mabel, she helped me get you into the carriage, but it was my granddaughter who first spotted you. Violet! Please come here." Unlike the older woman, Violet wore a long dark purple robe that shrouded her face in a dark shadow. She made her way directly to the corner of the room and sat, not letting the light touch her face.

            "Please excuse my granddaughter, she is shy." The old woman, now looking worried, excused herself and left the room. Moments later the carriage began moving again, slowly creaking its way down the road.

            "I have yet to get your name, young Icilean." Finally able to see clearly Reinhardt sat up. Looking around some more he saw a pile or rags nearby. They were probably his clothes from when they found him. He didn't remember what had happened before he woke here in the carriage but he was beginning to remember small details of it all. 

            "My name is Reinhardt."

            "Okay Reinhardt, it's nice to finally meet you formally. Tell me more about yourself. What was someone like you doing in Duzee, and in that condition?" Reinhardt could tell he was searching for something. Between his actions and that of the older woman he knew something wasn't quite correct.

            "The last thing I remember was a war. I was near the capital city of Nivged and..." nearby Violet stood abruptly and made her way to the door. Edward gave a smile of apology and followed her out into the night air.

            Finally alone he looked himself over and was surprised to see his entire body was covered with vein like tattoos. Memories of fires and the sound of screams flooded his head. It took some time before it all died away but when it finally subsided he was sweating and cold.

            The carriage came to an abrupt halt and Reinhardt could hear people yelling outside. With great effort he lifted himself too his knees and then his feet. It had apparently been a great deal of time since he used his legs, they shook from being tired already. Pushing the heavy cloth away from the entrance, the tall Icilean ducked through the doorway and walked into the chilly night air.

            People were running around in panic. They frantically scattered from an unknown threat. He hadn't realized that they were actually part of a caravan that was moving through a forest down a large, well-used trail. Fires began springing up nearby and the screaming grew more intense. 

            Blood began to splash onto the ground as bandits flooded into the caravan, cutting fleeing people down in large groups. Just before the tree line began a figure dressed in a dark robe watched Reinhardt. Its gaze had fallen upon him and refused to break. There was intensity too it that he couldn't understand, it was so unknown, yet familiar. Before long the granddaughter Violet turned and vanished into the darkness of the woods.

            Reinhardt looked around but couldn't see the old man or his wife anymore. Had they already been killed or did they get away? They had been acting so strangely and something about them just hadn't sat well with him. At any rate they didn't matter anymore.

            Turning back into the carriage that carried him the past two weeks he grabbed his tattered clothing and put it on. With a smile he picked up the pieces too the armor he wore on his left arm. Memories flooded his mind of the tool, picking fruit with the blade. As each piece fit into place he flexed his arm under its familiar weight. The Dragons Tail was rusted and beaten, but it was his most dependable weapon.

            "It's been too long my old friend. Let's go see what these bandits want." As Reinhardt walked towards the doorway a strange feeling overcame him. With the limited time he had, he searched the carriage. At first it was no more than a desire, soon it was a panic, a need to find something. Reinhardt didn't know what he was searching for but it became clear too him that he wouldn't be able to leave without it.

            As he began moving towards the next chest to begin his search again he felt a floor board shift slightly under the heavy leather of his boots. Crouching down, he touched the wood and watched it move. This had been the spot he was laying on earlier. It was a clever way of hiding something important.

            Slowly ripping up the boards he exposed a hidden compartment built into the floor. Within rested a sword unlike any Reinhardt had seen before. The long blade black blade soaked up all of the light near it, reflecting none from the metal surface. 

            A strange familiarity filled him as the dread of searching left him completely. This is what he had been looking for, and with the unique weapon now in hand he turned to the door and once again walked into the darkness of a cold night.

            The scent of smoke filled the air as fires burnt through the canopies of many of the caravan’s wagons. People were still screaming as riders on horseback rode them down, silver blades flashing against the darkness of night. It didn't surprise Reinhardt that bandits would openly attack such a large convoy. When any group of merchants this large traveled they were at risk, and with the lack of armed personnel this would have made a great target for criminals.

            Nobody seemed to have noticed him yet so he took the couple of seconds he needed to figure out where he was. The old man had been correct, they were definitely inside Icilee. Tall dark trees bordered each side of the trail they traveled, branches growing wildly down their trunks and branching out, creating a shield against wind and ice. This unique species was only seen in this part of the world, and coveted due to their smell, which was sweet.

            No snow had fallen this far south of the mountains yet but it wouldn't take long before the seasons turned. Icilee spent nearly three fourths of the year covered in snow, with the only respite being a three month season that barley passed for a spring in other parts of the world. It was a tough place to live but the constant supply of ice created a natural weapon for those that lived here.

            A man on horseback caught sight of Reinhardt and began riding towards him. At first glance he must have thought they knew each other but as he rode closer his posture changed and he spurred his horse into a sprint, flames from his torch lighting the man’s face. This man was clearly Icilean, his dark skin and large build gave it away. As he closed the gap between them the rider dropped his torch and drew the large sword that was harnessed to his saddle.

            Reinhardt knew he had little choice but to deal with the man. From his earlier inspection the dragon’s tail was broken, so that left only one option. Ducking under the hurried strike of the bandit, Reinhardt reached onto his back and unlocked his sword. The familiar weight of the weapon fell into his hands, freed of its restraints. With an explosive movement the face of the sword landed against the back of the rider, sending him falling from his saddle. In an attempt to stop himself from falling he braced himself, breaking both his arms.

            His screams almost made Reinhardt cringe. He had