The Keeper's Codex: Ashen Memories

by A. D. Wills

  It was even worse than it sounded on the inside. Wild giant waves crashing in from all directions without any control—swirling around to create a fatal current. Not to mention the winds beating against the side of the ship that threatened to burst right through, tearing the chip to little pieces in the middle of the ocean.

  “Wait, Sappo, do you see that?” Caden stared out the little porthole, and blindly reached out to tap on Sappo's shuddering shoulder.

  Sappo didn't move an inch though, struck by fear.

  “Sappo, hey, you there?” Caden looked away and snapped Sappo out of it for a second. “Look at this, I think someone's out there...”

  Sappo inched his way up to his feet on shaky legs, and looked out to see just what Caden said he saw, someone floating among the waves right next to the ship.

  “But how are they out there? Did someone fall overboard?” Sappo couldn't believe it, but there they were, aimlessly afloat in the treacherous storm that looked about ready to swallow them up at a moment's notice.

  “I don't know, but we've gotta help them.” Caden headed to dart out of the room, with his grip trinket in hand. “Come on Sappo, trust me, we'll be fine.”

  Sappo gulped, and followed Caden, despite the nerves begging for Sappo to stay, digging their nails of doubt in him as they always did. But he wasn't about to let Caden down right away.

  The two of them stormed out and up through the now empty mess hall with everyone having moved to their rooms during the storm, and those working on the ship exhausting their efforts to keep the passengers and ship in one piece. Upon reaching the door leading outside, Caden and Sappo pushed it open, to violent winds that sprayed waves of mist brine all over them, and the slippery deck.

  It was much worse than it appeared from the inside. Black clouds swirling around into funnels that eventually formed into full blown twisters off in the creeping distance, with lightning dancing in and around them to light up the ocean's surface. Just to stay on their feet throughout the pressuring wailing winds, Caden and Sappo clutched the railing tight so they wouldn't slip and fall from the severe swaying the waves hurtled the ship through.

  Looking out over the railing, they could hardly see anything other than chunks of wreckage from the old ship, but a chain of flashing lighting rattled off to light up the ocean's surface behind near deafening thunders.

  “Look, there they are, Sappo!” Caden had to shout just so Sappo could hear him through the muting mess.

  “Shouldn't we get some help?” Sappo shouted back through squinting eyes in an effort to shield from the pelting rain.

  “We don't have any time, and there wasn't anyone in the mess hall. We've gotta go and get him ourselves. I've got an idea though...” Caden pulled out the handle trinket he had after it looked like an idea—a dangerous one, one still an idea—popped in his head. “Here, take this and fire it straight down into the water. Just press the sides, and tightly grip it. I think that's how I fired it off anyway.”

  “You think?!” Sappo couldn't believe how relaxed and foolish Caden was right now.

  “I'm sure it'll fire, don't worry about it,” Caden tried to ease Sappo's worries.

  “Then what? What are you going to do?” Sappo asked.

  “I'm going to dive down and get him, then grab the line you shoot down, wrap it around us, and that's when you press it again to reel us back up!” Caden explained as if it were nothing—as if it were a foregone conclusion of a plan that didn't sound at all recklessly foolish.

  Sappo didn't want to do this, and wasn't sure at all in the least, despite Caden's adamant confidence, but he didn't have any better ideas himself. And he knew Caden was right. If they went to get help, who knows if they would still be in sight by the time he and Caden get back.

  “Alright, but be careful!” Sappo shouted back, reluctantly agreeing.

  Without any hesitation, Caden handed the trinket over, climbed onto the railing, and dived down into the wicked ocean alongside the ship.

  Every second stretched out for Sappo who watched as no sign of Caden emerged. Paranoia ran through Sappo's head off of Caden getting sucked down into the current, drifting away never to be seen again.

  “Come on Caden, come on...” Sappo repeated over and over, until he saw Caden poking up, gasping desperately for a breath, wading his way over to the person overboard.

  Caden struggled to keep his head above the surface, and get much more than a breath half-filled with water. It took everything he had just to inch over a few feet to the floating body, wrestling against the unforgiving current that threatened to pull Caden down into its drowning clutches. But eventually, he made it. Caden couldn't see a thing, but he grabbed hold of some of their clothing—pulling himself close, and waved up at Sappo to give the signal.

  Sappo steadied his aim as best he could, and fired the trinket straight down.

  Caden took the line, and tightly wrapped it around him and the unconscious person—enough line being pulled out for him as needed, before he signaled up to Sappo.

  Sappo pushed the trinket in, and the line started to slowly, but surely, reel the two of them in just as Caden said it would. Just as surely however, they looked to be slipping out between the line.

  Because it's so thin, it was awkward to actually secure the two of them, but they were only halfway. Sappo thought they might slip out before they got to the top at this rate, but no matter how much harder he pressed the trinket, it wouldn't go any faster. On instinct, Sappo dug his feet into the side of the boat as an anchor, and yanked them both up and over the railing, slamming onto the soaked deck as the line came loose.

  Caden mouthed a thanks, coughed up a bunch of water, and gave Sappo a proud thumbs up laying down on his back.

  Chapter 2: Dreymond

  The yearly Festa in Lyndenwell, the capital of Ethril, has been well under way for nearly a week now. Fantastic displays, plays, and all sorts of lavish events filled the city for both foreigners, and those at home in Lyndenwell to enjoy together in harmony. Being known as a bastion of peace and stability, there was no better place to have it.

  It's towering blue walls surrounding the huge city, sprawling out into stretching wild, lush, green valleys as far as the eye can see. Quaint cozy homes, neatly tucked in behind guarded circles of shops in different scattered pockets of the rosy stone streets weaving around the city, maximizing the amount of people able to call Lyndenwell home. More impressive, the massive arena on the outskirts of the city that stood taller than everything other than the city walls, and the royal keep, whose marble walls, and diamond roof shimmered in the morning light.

  As with every year, the Festa has gone on without a single problem thus far. Everyone enjoyed themselves, happy to leave their worries back wherever they came from, and spend a week in celebration of peace ever since the War of Regions came to an end twenty years ago, and united the once divided country of three regions into one, Ethril.

  But what everyone waited for, was the King's Tournament. A gathering of the world's most elite fighters in one place to close out every Festa, but this year, the winner would be granted the privilege of escorting King Dreymond to the Summit of Leaders taking place in Faella, a place few outsiders have ever been fortunate enough to be allowed in.

  Of course, there just had to be a wrinkle. Things were going too well after all.

  “M'Lord!” Lorin, dressed in a fancy white puffy shirt, burgundy pants, and his neatly coiffed black hair, clutched a letter to his chest, racing through the wide pristine sapphire halls of the keep.

  Dreymond's lone loyal aid ever since the War of Regions, Lorin did everything. Whether it's setting up the Festa on his own, or tending to every one of Dreymond's whims and needs on any given day, Lorin did it all alone. Even when Dreymond suggested hiring more help, Lorin refused. It's not as if Lorin didn't do a good enough job, he did everything perfectly, it was that Dreymond worried Lorin would overwork himself. But so far, all these years, Lorin seemed to manage just fine.

 
Lorin made his way to Dreymond's study, and barged on in. “My apologies for the sudden entrance Milord.”

  “Ah Lorin, breakfast was fantastic as usual.” In his royal blue robes trimmed with silver, Dreymond poked his head up with a pleased, warm smile; brushing away the crumbs from his groomed black beard with creeping streaks of gray. “Sorry, I know I said I was going to see you once I finished eating, but I've been caught up a little bit here.”

  “I'm glad you enjoyed it as usual,” Lorin said, distracted as usual from any compliment from Dreymond.

  “What is it you have to speak with me about? You seem to be troubled, even more so than usual,” Dreymond let out a warm chuckle at the expense of Lorin's paranoid tendencies.

  “I have a letter here, however it is strangely unmarked.” Lorin handed the letter over.

  Any letter to the King would need to be marked to reach the Keep, but this one somehow slipped through.

  Dreymond took no more than a few quick seconds to examine the letter. “I have a decent idea who would be that irresponsible.” Dreymond opened it without much urgency, and upon unfolding it, his eyes tired dropped at the sight. “I suspected as much...” Dreymond turned the letter to face Lorin.

  Lorin leaned in, noticing the signature of Dreymond's brother at the bottom, Lord Aldriss of Rhogar. “The nerve! He should know we are busy enough as is, we don't need to worry about unmarked urgent messages at a time like this. What, not only with the Festa, and tournament, but the Summit as well...” Lorin huffed, flustered as always when anything even somewhat related to Aldriss came up. To say he didn't get along with Aldriss during his rare visits, would be a gross understatement.

  “As always, he couldn't make it any more apparent how the concept of responsibility still manages to escape him, despite being a Lord,” Dreymond spouted his annoyance for his younger brother, and proceeded to skim over the letter. “He claims to be on his way by the time I'm reading this, and that he will be here in time for the tournament tomorrow. He also says, in so many words, to 'make up for not being there earlier.”

  “I will not stand for his antics this year, m'Lord.” Lorin crossed his arms.

  “I wouldn't worry about it Lorin,” Dreymond immediately regretted telling Lorin that last bit. By now, Dreymond was able to let his brother's brash, prodding antics roll off his shoulder mostly without much worry, but Lorin stewed on every single one—letting them fester and annoy him to no end.

  “He nearly turned the entire city upside down for two nights while he was here last year. I won't have it this time, absolutely not. We will have our usual decorum m'Lord,” Lorin raced along, puffing out his chest.

  “And I have no doubt you'll enforce it as usual.” Dreymond patted Lorin firmly on his meager back. “In the meantime, I need to see Calaera for a bit. Do you happen to know where she is?”

  “If I recall correctly, I last saw her beginning her morning readings in the sky garden. Do you plan on telling her the great news?” Lorin almost looked to be vibrating, bouncing up and down with joy.

  “Well, you and I certainly think it is great news, but it remains to be seen exactly how receptive Calaera will be,” Dreymond sighed, nervously scratching away at his beard.

  “I'm sure she will take to the news quite well,” Lorin provided a final boost of affirmation.

  “I'll be on my way then. I've put this off long enough after all."

  “Good luck, Milord!”

  Dreymond let out a deep relieving sigh on his way to meet his daughter. Dreymond let out a deep relieving sigh on his way to meet his daughter. Between handling everything Lorin pestered him to take care of, it was the first time Dreymond had a moment to his own thoughts. But in turn, it allowed his worries, and anxieties to creep in as they always did every five years when a Summit was called. Ever since the War of Regions, it's always been the same.

  It's been twenty years now since all talks of peace broke down between rulers of the Kuxori, Tepis, and Ethril regions. King Grendel, Dreymond's Father, and much maligned former King of Lyndenwell, passed away soon before the scheduled Summit. The King of Kuxori, and Queen of Tepis were quick to sniff out a moment of vulnerability in young King Dreymond who just ascended to the throne, but Dreymond had ideas of his own.

  For years, Dreymond wanted to do something about his father's disgusting rule, and wished to abolish gross policies like slavery, trial by death—every last one of his archaic policies. Kuxori and Tepis wouldn't have it though—listening to a boy-king who wants to ruin their horrid ways of life. With neither side budging, the War of Regions was ignited. Tepis and Kuxori banding to share the land to wipe Ethril out. Any hope of discussion, or turning back was off the table, and in turn, the country consumed by carnage.

  Despite the tall odds, Dreymond led Ethril to victory, and in turn, bringing peace to a now unified country thanks in no small part to a group of four legendary warriors dubbed the Starborn, led by Aldriss. But better than anyone else, Dreymond knows how fragile a thing peace is, even twenty years later. He's seen firsthand how quickly everything can change without much reason to it.

  But right now, Dreymond had other things to worry about. Amid his wandering worries, he didn't realize he already arrived at the sky garden, a gift from the Avians; a peaceful race of bird people who live in their country of Nestiss floating high up in the skies atop giant gusts of wind. It might not be an entire country like Nestiss, but this gust of wind propelled by the swirling feathers of Avians held up a serene green garden up above the keep.

  “Best not to come right out and say it. I should ease into it this time...” Dreymond pondered over what would likely be a failing strategy, just like every other time he fumbled around into this topic with Calaera. Raising Calaera on his own after her mother tragically passed away upon giving birth, it never got any easier for him after all these years.

  Dreymond stepped into the rising gust of wind that effortlessly pushed him up in a peaceful rising balance onto a cloud-like platform in front of quaint beige-framed glass doors he went through. He gazed his eyes upon the full, neat sections of vibrantly colored horn flowers, chiming beautiful music with every near step, and perfectly maintained shrubs that Lorin took great pride in caring for. It was the perfect serene place for Calaera's assigned readings, with only the peaceful rippling of tiny ponds around the garden filled with fish that might occasionally jump out for a good splash every so often.

  “It's unbecoming to sneak up on someone like this, Father. Especially seeing as it's the first time in days you've left your study. The bare minimum of a verbal greeting would have been appreciated."

  Calaera appeared from behind one of the tall flowered hedges, revealing her long raven black hair, wearing a light pale blue spring dress, and matching sapphire eyes that demanded the attention of anyone who would be so lucky as to catch a passing glance of them.

  “My apologies. I've been so busy lately with the Festa, the upcoming Summit, and a slew of other things...” Dreymond cleared his throat, hoping to drift from the subject, feeling the guilt sinking in.

  “Hmm, I wonder what's so important then to drag you out of your study.” Calaera inquired, wearing a look of suspicion, sussing out Dreymond's intentions.

  Calaera, and Dreymond both took their seats across from one another at a small wooden table, hearing songbirds chirping a soft tune by the fountain.

  “C-can I not just come up here to talk with my own daughter without pretense?” Dreymond bumbled over his words, clumsy as ever when trying to hide anything from Calaera.

  “You can, but it's always painfully obvious when you have an ulterior motive.” Calaera looked her father up and down with sharp judging eyes. “I hope you don't arrive at the summit with similar tells.”

  Dreymond slumped in concession, shaking his head. “I suppose you're not exactly wrong...” He trailed off. “But with the tournament and summit both happening so close together, I won't have much time to speak with you like this until I return. Especially now that
I'll be dealing with Aldriss before leaving...” Dreymond cringed as he let out those last few words, forgetting to censor himself in telling Calaera of Aldriss' imminent arrival.

  “Aldriss is finally coming tomorrow?” Calaera's eyes lit up as they always did when speaking of Aldriss, sidetracking from the conversation Dreymond hoped to shoehorn in.

  “So he says, but I wouldn't get too excited. He's been known to break more than a promise or two...”

  “Perfect! I was hoping he wouldn't skip out on this tournament of all times, now that I've been so generously allowed to finally view one for the first time."

  Calaera loved it when Aldriss would make a rare visit. He was the only one who ever indulged in her interests in battle, and discuss the intricacies of their strategies; what went wrong or right in any given situation.

  Dreymond, and Lorin, tried to overload Calaera at a young age with readings the furthest away from anything having to do with battle. It didn't matter much to Calaera, who voraciously consumed all of her readings, so that in her free time, she could dive into books, and records of old battles. She lived for finding out how to win in every situation, no matter how large or small in scale, almost becoming an obsession at times. As a final last ditch effort to stem her interests in becoming some kind of strategist, Dreymond wouldn't allow her to watch any tournament at the Festa until she's twenty years of age.

  “I almost forgot you were attending this year...” a defeated Dreymond hardly sounded excited at the prospect.

  “Twenty years of arbitrary waiting does blow by quite fast, doesn't it? I wonder what my dainty little eyes would have done had I seen such reckless violence before tomorrow.”

  “Yes, well, there's no need to wait any longer at least,” Dreymond poorly deflected.

  “Will Aldriss be visiting before the tournament this time?” Calaera asked.

  “He said he would be here in time, but nothing else,” Dreymond seemed a little too pleased with the news.

  “Perhaps sometime soon, for one night, the two of you can set aside this feud you refuse to explain to me. I'd like for all of us to at least have one dinner for the first time in over a year.”