by Dan Zangari
“May the Crimson Eye remain hidden for all time,” a voice boomed through the blackness. “Only my faithful speak this vow.”
Iltar turned in the abyss, searching for the source of the voice, but it came from every direction.
“Seek my faithful, Unspoken One, and fulfill your destiny.”
The booming voice faded and brilliant light flashed in front of Iltar, blinding him. He blinked several times, and when his vision returned, he found himself in the living room of his family’s home, still on the couch. He sat up, breathing deeply.
Rain beat against the window. It was dark outside. The lightstone lamp on the porch was all that illuminated the yard.
“That phrase…” Iltar mumbled, “It was in the letter from Rovin’s father.” But why would that be a part of his dream? And what was the Crimson Eye? He pondered those questions for a moment and then saw a flash of memory in his mind’s eye; the patterns on Reflection’s robe. The emblems were still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t forgotten!
Tossing aside a blanket, Iltar sprang off the couch. He stumbled through the room, tripping over furniture, heading for the dining room. The dining room was mostly dark. The chandelier was shrouded in a thick velvet drapery tied to its chain hanging from the ceiling. Iltar pulled on the drawstrings of the drapery, and the velvet covering fell to the tabletop, brightly illuminating the dining room.
“Parchment,” Iltar whispered, frantically searching the room. There had to be parchment nearby. He had to transcribe these symbols before they faded from his mind. Iltar hastily opened and closed the drawers on the nearby cabinet, but found only utensils and place settings. Nothing here was useful.
The den! he thought, hurrying out of the dining room and into the hall leading from the home’s foyer. Iltar turned a corner, running down an intersecting corridor. The light from the dining room barely reached this new hallway. Iltar passed a couple of doors, then stopped at the last one, squarely positioned at the end of the hall. He threw the door open, squinting his eyes. He could barely see the outline of a desk to his left. His grandfather had used this as a small library. But the room had not been used since Iltar inherited the place.
Moving carefully but quickly, Iltar picked his way through the study and searched the desk with his hands, feeling for parchment and an ink vial. He soon found them and then hurried back to the dining room.
Now sitting, Iltar spread out the sheets and pulled the quill from the vial. He could still see the emblems in his mind, but some details were fading. Putting quill to parchment, he meticulously drew the first symbol. Iltar was a decent artist, but he excelled in copying documents. At one time he had almost considered forgery as a trade, but then his and Cornar’s adventure’s paid off handsomely.
After a moment, Iltar finished drawing the first symbol. The center part looked like the blade of a sword with a jagged fuller. Six spikes curved from the bottom, arcing upward. Eight-sided stars rested at the tips of each spike. There were other details to this symbol, but they had since fled from Iltar’s memory.
“Now for the other six,” he whispered, urgently setting his quill to another parchment.
“I decided to confront Elynia but I needed to be prepared for the worst. So I dusted off my old armor and weapon and began practicing. After several sessions I approached her, feigning fatigue. As expected, she asked questions about my armor and weapon. She said they looked like the stuff of legend. Had I been gone that long?”
- From Origins and Oaths of the Keepers, preface
Cornar sat quietly in his dining room, staring aimlessly out the windows to the vineyard. Morning sunlight shone upon the workers tending to the brandleberry vines. Another batch was ready to harvest.
He looked down at the open book in his hands, Towers of Comdolith. It was historical fiction, the tale of a civil war which spread among the nations on the northeast part of the Mainland, taking place several hundred years ago. The author, a low-ranking soldier in the Losian army, had written the book fifty years ago. He used plenty of source materials from Losian military records, memoirs of past generals—great and small alike—and historical events. Of course, those events were twisted and dramatized, but it was done in a way that made the war come alive.
Cornar’s father had owned a first edition of the book. Melthas raved about the book, and so left quite an impression on his son. When Cornar was an adult, he bought a copy from a merchant who trafficked foreign novels in Soroth. Towers of Comdolith soon became one of Cornar’s favorites. But today he couldn’t even keep his eyes on its pages.
Three days had passed since he’d told his men and his friends-in-adventure about his retirement. Things hadn’t been the same since then. The sorrow Cornar had felt while sequestered in his study still lingered.
The Promised Maiden would be setting sail sometime today. Cornar furrowed his brow, looking past the book and to the table, although he wasn’t focused on it. His mind was elsewhere. In his mind’s eye, he saw his men jovially carrying supplies to the ship. The warriors bantered with each other as they climbed a gangway. The mages conversed with each other, seriously speculating about the venture. The boat had an air of excited anticipation.
Oh, he longed to be there and—
“Are you going blind?” Karenna asked from behind him. “You’ve been stuck on that page nearly all morning.” She loved teasing him, and Cornar loved it when she did.
“No.” Cornar cracked a smile.
Karenna set a plate in front of Cornar. It held one of his favorite morning meals. Three biscuits were arranged around browned ground beef, garnished with sautéed mushrooms and yalvinen, a squash-like vegetable native to Soroth. Yalvinen grew in other locales, mostly islands in the southern oceans. It didn’t seem to grow well on the Mainland, though, so yalvinen was a major export.
The meal did smell good, but its aroma seemed hollow. Towers of Comdolith read the same way. Hollow. But perhaps the hollowness didn’t come from those things. Perhaps he was the source?
“Cor,” Karenna said firmly, placing her hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” he said.
Karenna groaned. “Of course, nothing!” she said in exasperation. “That’s the problem. The last three days you’ve just sat around the house, trying to do things, but never actually doing them.”
She was right. Everything was empty to him. It was as if life itself had lost meaning. That was frightening. Was this what it was like to retire? Cornar wondered. Had Delrin and Jalim felt this way? But they were still doing what they loved. They were just not as active as they had been in their youth.
“I…” Cornar started to speak. He wanted to get the words right. “I think I’m just adjusting, coming to terms with reality.”
“Cornar,” Karenna said firmly. She grabbed his clean-shaven chin and turned his head toward her. Karenna’s eyes were fierce, her lips drawn to a line. Her expression was stern. “In the last three days your life hasn’t changed from what it has been this last year and a half. Really, it hasn’t. The only thing that has changed is that the decision you made is no longer private.”
She was right again. Cornar had been retired. He had been living the peaceful life he had fantasized about when first speaking to Gregan and Ordreth about his retirement. This life was exactly what he wanted. Helping Karenna tend to the horses, visiting family, cultivating their land, attending plays in Soroth and Sarn, and long nights of reading together. The longest trip Cornar had taken was to Tor to accompany Karenna to the annual Equestrian Exhibit of the West. Otherwise, they were island-bound.
If this is what he wanted, then why, oh why, was he feeling hollow? Was he not truly committed to this life? That terrified him. “Perhaps I need to talk to someone,” Cornar suggested. “I should have spoken to Delrin…”
“No, Cor,” Karenna said flatly.
“No?” Cornar asked, looking confused.
“You heard me,” Karenna said. “I was foolish to think this would
work.” She sighed, averting her gaze to the windows.
“No,” Cornar said, clasping her hands. “We can make this work. This is just the first time everyone is going away. It’ll get better.”
“Cornar, I don’t think it will. Your retirement will tear you apart. You won’t be the man I fell in love with, the man I married. For Kalda’s sake, you’re not even that man now! Where is my jovial husband that would sweep me off my feet every time he came home?”
“He’s sitting here getting old,” he quipped, but Karenna didn’t find it funny. She stepped back and folded her arms.
“And you can’t tell me you’re not the least bit intrigued about Krindal’s quest.” Karenna shook her head. “Of all the men at the meeting, you were the most impressed by that map, even though you were trying to hide it. And you didn’t even do a good job at that.” She rolled her eyes.
“Of course I’m intrigued,” Cornar said. “It’s probably the most important adventure any of us have ever undertaken.”
Karenna nodded. “Exactly!”
“But,” Cornar continued, “I made a promise to you. And you know I won’t break it, no matter what.”
“Well, you are loyal…” Karenna sighed. “I just wish you weren’t so sulky about it.”
“Sulky?” Cornar furrowed his brow and rose from his seat.
“Yeah,” Karenna made a flabbergasted face. “Look in the mirror,” she gestured to her side. “There’s Sulking Cornar, right there. You can see it in his eyes.”
His hollowness was that obvious, wasn’t it? Blast it!
“If this is going to be what it’s like to have you retired, I want no part of it.”
Those words stung, like an arrow piercing his heart. What did she mean? Karenna wouldn’t leave, would she? She had remained faithful to him all these years, even when he and Iltar were thought dead some twenty-seven years ago. Perhaps it was easier to love a dead man… A hollow man, though… was that even a man at all?
“I’ll fix this,” Cornar said, his voice shaking. Karenna raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be that man again, the man you fell in love with.”
Karenna sighed. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “There’s only one way to fix this, Cor,” she said, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “You need to go.” Go? Go where? Was she trying to kick him out? Karenna wasn’t through with their marriage, was she?
Another tear trickled down Karenna’s cheek, followed by another. She extended her hands toward him, but Cornar didn’t respond. What was she doing? “Take my hand,” she said, reaching out with one hand and wiping her tears with the other.
“I…” Cornar looked at her hands, her beautiful hands. A tear trickle down his cheek. By Heleron’s Trident, what was happening?
“Take my hand, Cor!” Karenna said through clenched teeth. He complied reluctantly. Karenna’s hands were cool and smooth. Her touch was bittersweet. “Look at me,” she said.
Once their eyes locked, Karenna spoke again, her voice and her hands trembling. “Cornar Dol’shir, you’re going to promise me that you’ll never allow anything to stop you from being the man I fell in love with all those years ago. The man who was always excited for life. You’ll follow your passions, no matter what tries to defy you. You’ll live your life to its fullest, both on and off the battlefield. And when you come home, I will be your entire world, cherishing every moment.”
Tears streamed down both their faces.
Cornar couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find the words. Was she really making him promise to never stop being who he was, an adventurer, a warrior?
“I don’t want you missing the greatest opportunity of your life,” Karenna said. “I know you were conflicted because you weren’t going with the others. I could feel the yearning radiating from you. The promise you made me was selfish. I should never have asked that of you.”
“You didn’t ask,” Cornar said, fighting back more tears. “I made that promise of my own volition.”
“You underestimate the power of a woman,” she smiled and sniffled, blinking away more tears. “You made that promise because I wanted you to.”
No, she was mistaken. Cornar was not one to be manipulated. “I can’t break my word, Karenna. You know I’ve never broken a promise.”
“Now you’re being selfish,” Karenna said. She was right, yet again. By Heleron’s Scales, what was he doing? Karenna was telling him to go with the others, and he just declined. Was he really using his own pride as an excuse?
“Promise me now,” she urged. “Promise you’ll do those things I said.”
You must always keep your word, Cornar heard his father’s voice. And be faithful to those loyal to you, especially your future wife. Do whatever you can to make her happy.
Those words echoed in his mind.
“Cor, I’m not happy with you like this,” Karenna said, another tear falling from her chin. “Not like I was throughout our marriage.”
Do whatever you can to make her happy, Melthas’s words rang again.
“You always know what’s right, Cor,” Karenna said. “Those feelings of yours—those promptings that you get—they never lead you amiss. I know you weren’t following them when you made your promise. You know you weren’t.” As always, she was right.
Cornar remembered the feeling he had when he’d made that promise to stop adventuring. It didn’t feel wrong, but it felt different. Off would be a way to describe it. At the time, he thought that feeling was because the promise seemed like such a radical change. Cornar eventually dismissed it. Well, consciously at least. Always follow your feelings, son. Melthas’s voice sounded in Cornar’s mind.
“Cornar,” Karenna said again. “What say you?”
Cornar rubbed at the middle of his forehead, his eyes closed. He had always been able to keep his wife happy while also keeping his promises. But at this moment he couldn’t do both. It was one or the other. If he kept his promise, she’d stay sad for who knows how long; until he came to terms with never going on an adventure? When would that happen? If he made this new promise, Karenna supposed he’d became the man she once fell in love with. She’d have her husband back, but not here with her.
Karenna would have her old life. She didn’t hate that life, but it wasn’t perfect. “Cornar,” she said, her voice still trembling, “I know you want to give me everything I want. You want me to have my ideal world. But I don’t think my ideal world will make me truly happy. Because it won’t make you truly happy.”
By Heleron’s Trident, she was selfless.
“Your promise was rash, Cor,” she continued. “When you’re ready to stay home with me, you’ll come back. But you’re not ready.” Again, Karenna was right. Her wisdom vanquished his doubts. Cornar had married a woman far better than he. No hidden treasure of any worth could be as valuable as Karenna.
“I promise,” Cornar said, his voice soft, “that I’ll never allow anything to stop me being the man you fell in love with. I will be excited for life. I’ll follow my passions, no matter what attempts to defy me. I’ll live my life to its fullest, both on and off the battlefield. And when I come home, I will cherish every moment, making you my entire world.”
The tears stopped, and a fire lit inside him, a burning fervor. This was right! He knew it, felt it in every fiber of his being.
Karenna pulled away, sniffling and wiping her cheeks. “Where are your chain mail and weapons?”
Cornar grinned. He was happy, truly happy! The thought of exploring the ruins of Klindil invigorated him. Finding tevisrals, ancient relics, and learning more about this ancient Order from Kalda’s past. It was tantalizing!
“The weapons are in the chest at the foot of our bed,” he replied. “I’ll get my armor.”
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Karenna said. “We need to hurry.”
“We?” Cornar asked, confused.
“You’re going to need to ride Heinseil to the docks, practically up to the gangway. Someone needs to bring him home.” Cornar hadn’t thought ab
out that. “I’ll pick up Nilia,” Karenna continued. “She’ll ride him back to the manor.” Nilia was a young woman who tended to Cornar and Karenna’s manor home in the city. He and Karenna often wintered there.
“Did Krindal say when they were leaving port?” Karenna asked, moving to a hallway leading to the foyer.
“No.”
Karenna hurried out of the dining room. “Let’s hope you don’t miss them!” she hollered.
Cornar darted through the kitchen and toward the home’s side entrance. Hopefully he wouldn’t miss the Promised Maiden. Then what would he do?
* * * * *
Cornar rode through the docking district of Soroth, girded in his brown chain mail, with a sack strapped to his back. His serrated dagger and short-sword bounced against his thighs as Heinseil struggled to canter down the busy road. The trip to Soroth had taken most of the day and poor Heinseil was tired. Karenna had since parted ways to fetch Nilia.
Pier Eight, wasn’t it? Cornar thought, maneuvering his horse around a slow cart. Wharf Twenty.
Chatter, bells on ships, and the regular hustle and bustle of a port filled the air. But Cornar wasn’t distracted by it. Within a few minutes, he neared a large sign above one of the nearby piers: Pier Eight.
Cornar kicked Heinseil’s sides, spurring him into a gallop. His hoofs echoed against the wooden pier, where carts and wagons traveled easily on either side as well as a pedestrian or two. Cornar weaved his horse around the sparse traffic on the pier. Some people shouted at him, calling him a madman. But that didn’t matter. He had to board that ship! Cornar passed wharf after wharf. Some were empty, but others were occupied. Eventually, Cornar came to Wharf Twenty.
The wharf was empty.
Blast!
Ships were moving in and out of the nearby wharves. Others were in the waters beyond the piers. But he didn’t know what the Promised Maiden looked like, so he couldn’t tell if those tall ships were the vessel he wanted.
