by RG Long
They were certainly learning a lot.
“How much of this did you know?”
Teresa asked as she poured over more and more books from the library at Rerial.
“Not enough,” Urt replied.
The broad-shouldered warrior seemed at an odd contrast with the small book he was reading. While Teresa had been poring over several volumes and making notes as she scanned the pages, Urt it had only been looking at this one book and studying it intently. She didn’t think to question his motives or what he was trying to accomplish. All she wanted was answers for herself. She figured he had other things he was trying to learn.
“Rerial was once a much larger empire. Before they had learned the craft of airships, they had taken control over most of the north of Redact. I’ve read that much so far. And, to my understanding, were peacefully living with the Skrilx who also inhabited the same land.”
“But then there was an assassination,” Urt said.
Teresa nodded.
A Skrilx clan had desired to rule over the kingdom of Rerial and had killed not only the ruling king and queen, but all fifteen of their sons and daughters.
The royal family was wiped out save for one member, who had escaped in a boat. They were four at the time.
It was enough to inspire the entire nation to destroy every single Skrilx that they encountered. Brutally. The felines had attempted to fight back, to muster their forces to defend themselves. But the news of the king and his family’s assassination traveled faster than the Skrilx desire to fight back. And it was to that end they were executed.
“Rerial was fighting to avenge and destroy the Skrilx,” Teresa said. “Plus, on the side of their nation was all the might of the magic they had learned. They were only just then coming to a full understanding of how powerful the stone could be in battle. They used speakers to deadly affect against the Skrilx.”
It all came down to one final battle, Teresa read.
It was this battle that Lord Evan was referring to earlier. The one where the Skrilx were given the offer of total eradication or slavery.
“Not much of a choice if you ask me,” Teresa said. “Slavery or death.”
“It was not a choice at all,” Urt said back.
He put down the book he been reading and turned to look at Teresa with sorrowful eyes.
“This is a diary of a Skrilx who was a part of the resistance to Rerial. It’s a very different account of what happened than you have been describing.”
Teresa looked over at Urt and felt for him.
While she had been reading all of the things that really had written down in its own history books about the crisis and war, he had been reading a first-hand account.
“May I see it?” she asked him.
He nodded and handed her the book.
It was quite small and the text inside of it was even smaller. The person who had written this had a very delicate hand. It was easy to see why it would be included in the library, and also easy to notice that it might get overlooked. It was not a book that stood out, thought it was finely bound and taken care of.
As Teresa thumbed through it, Urt relayed to her its content.
“This is the journal of the Skrilx name Greer. She was only just becoming an adult at the beginning of this war. She saw most of her family killed and was herself, at that final battle. Looks like the last few lines were added by a Skrilx who had become a slave and found the diary.”
“According to Greer, any Skrilx who put up a resistance at all was killed on the spot. Those who surrendered were not given a choice to become slaves, rather they were forced to be so. The reason the finder of the diary lived through that was because she was tending wounded of Rerial and Skrilx with great care. After she became a slave, and she came to work in the library. She placed the diary among the others in the hopes that an account of the Skrilx should be told.”
“I don’t even know if the librarians know that this book is in their collection. It doesn’t share the markings on the inside of the other books. They may not even miss it.”
Teresa nodded as she flipped through the book. There were sketches of trees, maps of old cities and provinces in Rerial that belong to the Skrilx, and a few summaries of the battles that they had fought.
“Greer sounds like a very brave Skrilx,” Teresa said. “As does the one who placed this book in the library.”
“Perhaps the bravest is the latter,” Urt said. “She helped several of her friends escaped exile while she herself stayed behind to care for the wounded and lead others safety. From this account, she was selfless and worked tirelessly to save as many lives as possible.”
“I wonder where she is now?” Teresa asked as she handed the journal back to Urt. “After that battle everything was split up between the Nobles of Rerial. And then some years after that, the Court of Three broke off due to their experimentation with magic and desire to use all three races in its battles.”
“Rerial didn’t want to share its knowledge of airships with elves and dwarves,” Teresa said as she shook her head and looked down at her notes.
“Even though this is Ealrin’s homeland and it’s filled with wonderful things,” Teresa said she read flipped through a few pages of some of the other books on the table. “It seems of people who live in Rerial are every bit as racist against elves, dwarves and other nonhumans as the Merc were in Ruyn. As much as Androlion and Rayg.”
Teresa took a deep breath.
“War seem to follow us where we go, Urt.”
“And it may still come our way”, a voice said from the door.
Teresa and Urt both jumped. They had not heard the door open or seen anyone come in.
Lord Evan stood at the door way looking grave.
“The meeting with the Court of Three did not go well,” he said. “We may be at war with in the week.”
“Within the week?” Teresa exclaimed. “I thought King Belfast was going to ask for peace!?”
“He did ask for peace,” Lord Evan said as looked down at the books they had scattered all over his study.
“Apparently there have been several airship attacks in the Court of Three in the last few weeks. They did not do our calls for peace any help. They’re convinced Rerial is behind them and are out for blood. They have amassed a thousand soldiers at the Gift of Laurels. Then they threatened the king with all-out war.”
Lord Evan shook his head.
“King Belfast is not a weak man. He did not take well to being threatened in such a manner. He told them that if they cross our border, they could expect retribution.”
Teresa was standing, even though she didn’t realize she had left her seat.
“And that’s it? You couldn’t ask the King to do anything else? Surely, he could negotiate? Something!”
Lord Evan shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t think the Court of Three was ever interested in negotiating. Nor do I think there have been airship attacks. All they have to do is say there have been and we seem suspect. It is the curse of being the only nation with such power. We truly believe some of our fleet was stolen and may be causing these attacks, but we have no proof.”
Lord Evan sighed.
“I would much rather use my ships to explore the world than to wage war. But that is not the time I have been granted.”
Slowly, he took a step back and nodded at them both.
“Your Skrilx friend is not well,” he said as he turned to leave. “Blume and Jeremy brought him in. He’s resting in one of the bedrooms now. He may not respond to visitors but, in trouble times, who knows.”
Lord Evan made a clicking noise at them and left the room. Teresa turned to look at Urt.
He looked as bewildered as she felt.
“Why does war follow us at every turn?” Teresa asked.
Urt had no answer.
36: Chapter
Ealrin followed Elise as she dove quickly through many different back alleys and side roads. He really hoped she knew whe
re she was going. He was utterly lost. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if she even cared about the purse at all. Either it was a happy circumstance or, perhaps...
As they made their way through another back alley and then into a shop, which then led to another side path and from their they went through a dingy restaurant. At the back of that there was another door. In this, they entered into the bowels of what looked to be a pub. The light was very dim in here, even though it was morning outside. Only a few candles on the walls illuminated the area. There wasn’t a single window or sunroof to give the room a view of the world outside. Elise walked into the pub and, as she did, nodded at some of the people sitting down eating.
They made their way through the heavily packed tight tables to the bar at the end. When they got there, Ealrin saw a man emerge from the kitchen. He was a larger gentleman who was covered in grease, even though he wore an apron and had a towel on his arm.
“Still around Tucker? Surprise to see you still cooking.”
The man behind the bar turned around slowly and grinned at Elise.
“Wondering when you might show back up at my bar. It’s been a blue moon or two!”
His expression changed from jovial kindness to surprise when he looked Ealrin in the eye. Ealrin did his best to return the smile.
“Oh boy! This can’t be who I think it is!”
“The very same,” Elise said as he put her arm around Ealrin’s and ruffled his hair. “Spent three years on the run mixing up with a rough group of criminals and there’s a warrant out for his arrest, so we got to keep things quiet.”
“Hey!” Ealrin said, pushing Elise’s hand away.
Both Elise and the man named Tucker laughed with great enthusiasm at Ealrin’s response.
“I know what happened,” Tucker said, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Word travels fast. The Commodore’s son returned to Rerial but doesn’t remember a thing of his past life. Nearly destroyed the Gift of Laurels by ramming it with an airship and started a riot outside the military tower. Quite the entrance!”
Ealrin hung his mouth open wide.
This seemed to please Elise.
“You’ve forgotten this because you’ve forgotten everything,” she said. “If there’s something to know in Rerial, Tucker Grayglass knows it.”
“At your service,” he said with a bow. Then his face turned somber as he looked Ealrin up and down for a moment.
“My condolences Ealrin. Hopefully you’ll remember a thing or two. Be good to swap stories again. You used to be able to tell quite the tale”
Elise gave him an elbow in the ribs.
“He still working on getting his humor back. Tales he’s got in full. Been all over Gilia chasing demons and starting wars.”
“Ending wars,” Ealrin corrected.
Elise shrugged.
“Give him some time and he might be half as funny as he used to be. It’s not saying much.”
Tucker chuckled.
“Imagine you’d like something filling to eat?”
“Yes! But whatever you’re thinking,” Elise said patting her stomach. “Half it and then Ealrin and I can split what’s left.”
Tucker chuckled at this too.
“Just because you don’t eat like me doesn’t mean you need to poke fun at me. This is just daddy weight.”
“Your daughter is twelve!” Elise said, reaching over the counter and thumping him on the shoulder. “You can’t keep using her as an excuse! Your weights on you! Literally.”
“Ha! You’ve never raised a twelve-year-old!” Tucker laughed as he turned around. He ambled behind the door and Ealrin overheard the sound of clinking plates and dishware.
He turned around from the bar and took in the place. The whole room was no more than ten paces wide and perhaps fifteen deep. As far as restaurants and inns went, it was rather tiny.
The walls might’ve been white at one point, but in the orange light of the candles and the grime of the years, they were the color of dirt and neglect.
“Doesn’t ring any bells?” Elise asked.
Ealrin looked down and saw that she wasn’t looking out the crowd of people. She was looking at him.
“If there was an emergency bell for the state of cleanliness or general health, it would certainly be ringing.”
Elise smiled and laughed at his attempt at humor.
He saw her face fall just a little bit.
“I’m guessing this was a special place for you and I, huh?” Ealrin asked.
Elise let out a small breath like a sigh and a chuckle.
“Something like that,” she said.
She looked around the room with what Ealrin guessed was nostalgia or longing for a better past. Perhaps maybe a cleaner one too.
“It was a spot where you and I could get away from our guards and the hustle of the city. A small oasis very few people know about. If you can’t tell, it’s kind of hard to get to.”
“Yeah I picked up on that,” Ealrin answered. “Who does know how to get to this place?”
There were certainly patrons, though none of them looked to be the down and out of the city. Some of them were rather well dressed and considered Ealrin and Elise at the bar as they ate their own dishes. Ealrin’s stomach rumbled as he thought about the dried fruit they had eaten earlier. It had worn off, along with his breakfast.
Elise didn’t get a chance to answer him. Tucker opened the door and walked in their direction carrying two plates of food.
“I couldn’t help it, Elise,” he said apologetically. “The food that I was going to send out the first time around looked like it was just a snack. This is a decent meal for you.”
Elise hit her hand on the bar.
“Don’t you mean four decent meals!” she said. “We’ll never be able to finish all this!”
“Speak for yourself,” Ealrin said as the plate was sat down in front of him.
Elise smiled and picked up a fork and knife and began eating the plate as if finishing it was all she really hoped to do in the world.
Ealrin looked down at the plate and saw it was combination of greens and meat and spices. As far as off the path food, this seemed much better than some of the fare he had been subjected to in his travels. He picked up his fork and was just about to stab one of the cubes of meat when he noticed Tucker was staring at him.
He smiled at the cook. He also took in his appearance. Tucker was a very wide man and maybe a head shorter than he was. Even though he didn’t have a lot of hair on the top of his head, everything that he could gather from the rest was pulled back into a ponytail and braided.
He wore an apron but Ealrin already figured that was mostly for show and not exactly for cleanliness as it was burned, stained, and patched in several different places. Tucker must’ve realized he was staring back at Ealrin because he gave a nervous chuckle and looked at Elise.
“So, you say... Well... I suppose you’re mean he doesn’t remember...”
Tucker cleared his throat
“He doesn’t remember anything?”
Elise shook her head. She looked back-and-forth from Tucker to Ealrin.
“None of it,” she said, with a tone of finality that struck Ealrin as something more than just his memories of his family and country and friends.
Tucker let out a sigh and scratched his back.
“It’s a darn shame.”
He didn’t say another word except to go and grab two mugs off the shelf behind them fill them with a dark liquid. He sat them in front of Ealrin and Elise before waddling off behind the counter to go and check on some of his other patrons.
“I could tell him some good stories if you think that would cheer them up,” Ealrin said after he had sampled several bites of the food and a drink of the ale. It tasted familiar and delicious. But still no memories came back with it.
“Tucker needs more than a good story,” Elise said. “He’s just sad about what could’ve been. Glad you’re back to be sure, but there’s a certain type of mourni
ng somebody has to go through with this.”
“Hmm,” Ealrin sighed. He put down his fork and reached for his mug.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything that might...”
He didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence or his sip.
“Ealrin! Behind you!” said Tucker’s voice from across the room.
Ealrin spun around so quickly that he almost registered the man in a hood who was standing above him with a dagger in time to dump the contents of his cup on him and draw his blade.
His blade, Edgar, was hot in his hands.
The man in the hood dove down, spluttering but still held his knife firmly in his hand. Ealrin began to take a step towards him when another man in a similar hood leapt out and charged at Elise.
She extended her palms and two blades shot to her hands. As the man drove down on her with a mace, she stabbed him in the stomach.
He coughed up blood and she shoved him to the ground.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Ealrin asked the man who had recovered at his feet. He held his knife out but it was no match for Ealrin and the sword or Elise and her two blades.
He looked at them both for a split second before deciding it was no longer worth it. He would’ve made it out past the door if Tucker hadn’t slammed a plate down over his head.
The man crashed to the floor has Elise turned the man who was coughing and sputtering over onto his back.
Any ideas of his sister being a soft and gentle spirit left him as he saw the fire in her eyes.
“Who sent you!?” she shouted at him.
He spat at her.
She picked him up and slammed him down to the ground before she wiped the blood and spit from her face.
“Who sent you!?” she yelled again.
The man coughed, gagged, and then went still.
Tucker was reaching down over the man he had broken his plate on.
