The Keeper of Tales

by Jonathon Mast

  Abani smiled.

  What was wrong with this city that both an elf and Abani were smiling?

  “Yolian, seeing you brings water to my parched soul!”

  The two embraced. As they released each other, Yolian exclaimed, “I’m sorry! The sun outside was so bright, my eyes were dazzled. I didn’t see it was you! You made it out of Sar Idain, then?”

  The Parvian nodded. “You doubted my abilities?”

  “Of course not! Of course not! But I suspect there is a story in it.”

  Abani shook her head. “You want stories more than a goat wants its mother’s milk!”

  Yolian shrugged. “There is value in knowing tales both ancient and new. And every time I saw you, stories yet to be told seemed to gather.” Keeping a hand on her shoulder, the fair-skinned elf turned to the rest of us. “Cerulean I know now. And again, we should converse openly in front of others.” Yolian’s eyes twinkled, but Cerulean frowned. “And now, I see a dwarf. Master dwarf, do you have a name?”

  “Lazul, Chief of the Jaed.”

  “Ah, the best tribe of dwarves. Well-met, Chief Lazul!”

  “You recognize us by our craft?”

  “No, but I’ve met enough dwarves to know that whichever tribe I see is the best!” Yolian laughed, and I joined him. “I have no desire to argue with one of your people, so I simply agree that whomever I am speaking with belongs to the best tribe.”

  Lazul harrumphed, but one corner of his mouth curled into a grin.

  “And I see a Spireman and a Garrendai woman in the corner over there. I trust they came with you.”

  I answered, “Indeed they did.”

  “There is a story here. And as my dear friend Abani mentioned, I love a tale well told. And this would seem to be one from of old, if you weren’t missing several people from your gathering. I see no Fahalla elf, no dwarves from the Dellodwenar nor Graz, and no Cassuni! I have heard no rumblings of Garethen being on the move. If you were a part of such an epic tale, it would be too early in the story for so many to have fallen in heroic deaths. Or am I wrong?”

  I debated an answer, and so stalled for time. “And you must be a story in yourself. How does a Fahalla elf come to know a Parvian so well? And you’re also welcomed in Habrin.”

  “A fair question.” Yolian nodded. “I was born Fahalla, but because of my love for stories my family bid me farewell. I was sent to Chariis to train. Even there none could quench my thirst for a good tale. Eventually they sent me on a fablehunt. New acquisitions for the Library.” He smiled again. “I said goodbye to monuments and halls and so many other stories, so I could go out and find more. So my journey began.

  “While I traveled the oases of Parvia, I was attacked by a band of goblins. They overcame me far too easily; my weapons are words, and goblins do not often care for them. As they were about to slay me, a brave Sword Dancer swooped in and struck them all down. Abani saved my life that day. We traveled together for a short while until she decided to go to Sar Idain. I felt the call of tales elsewhere, so we parted ways. My journeys brought me here, where I’ve been for nearly a month.” The elf shrugged with another smile. This would take some getting used to. “And here I am today. All right. Your turn.”

  I mulled an answer. How much should I share? I glanced at Cerulean who gave me a hesitant nod.

  Abani added, “This elf can be trusted. I have never known one hunger for the light as much as he, except for those from Parvia. He would never betray anything to Garethen.”

  Lazul grumbled, “We can trust an elf?”

  Abani scowled at him. “Can you trust my word?”

  Lazul nodded. “I trust your word. But it’s an elf that we’ve never met.”

  Yolian looked down. “Even if I think the Jaed are the best dwarves?” He chuckled again.

  Lazul softened a little at that, but still didn’t look entirely convinced.

  I, however, accepted their judgment. “Garethen is on the move, readying for invasion. We were sent to find out why he thinks now is a good time. We did try appeasing the tales by gathering with representatives of the nations in Scarletholme, but some enemy stopped many of them before they could join us. We’re all that remains.”

  Yolian’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, Garethen might be getting clever. If he can make us act in a way that displeases the tales, he might have a way to defeat us. After all, if we don’t fulfill the requirements of the tale, why should it let us know what his secret weapon is?”

  I blinked. I had never considered that possibility. Garethen’s secret weapon could be tampering with our own tale. How could we possibly counteract that?

  I looked at Yolian again to see he was staring blankly toward Cerulean. He held up a finger. “Forgive me, Adal, but I am discussing this with Cerulean. She is telling me everything in our elven way. It is much faster than spoken tongues.”

  Lazul muttered, “I just hope he doesn’t turn out to be a double agent for this little town, too.” When no one immediately chimed in to agree with him, he added, “Like Daragen… and I was just beginning to like him, the rogue.”

  I explained. “Daragen isn’t a double agent. Well, he’s not a traitor, at least. Habrin is the city of outcasts. When the human nations were founded, each had exiles that were not welcomed. They formed this city that all may be welcome, as long as they gave up their secrets. By learning the great truths of each kingdom, Habrin was able to secure its place. No one dared attack it for fear that their dark secrets would come to light elsewhere. Habrin sends out men to train in every city they can, bringing back their fighting and defense methods. Apparently Daragen was sent out to train. I knew he had some secrets—you don’t get to be Padokat’s first mate without having some sort of wiles. I had assumed he was Garrendai, though. Apparently, I was wrong. The fact he was able to fool us doesn’t make him an enemy, however. In fact, it makes him an excellent Habrini. I don’t think we have anything to fear from Daragen. I only hope Odenias is as trustworthy.”

  Yolian nodded once toward Cerulean and looked at us again. “Odenias is trustworthy. If you tell him your mission, it will not be spread. He should know of the troop buildup in Chariis, anyway. He may wish to lend men to the effort.”

  “So they are used to holding on to secrets?” Lazul asked.

  Yolian nodded. “It is the way of things here. There are no secrets; if they do not discover your mission from you, well, do you really expect Daragen to not speak to his Father?”

  I sighed. “It’s true. It’s best for us to speak the mission willingly and openly. Perhaps the Father might give aid.”

  Our bread came, and we broke it in silence. Lazul cocked his ear toward his bag for a moment before requesting a potato with the bread. Though the serving woman was confused, she told him she would search a potato out.

  As we ate, Yolian joined us. “From what Cerulean has told me, you are a tale in the making. And a rather important one, by the sounds of things. Perhaps, since you have lost your Fahalla representative, I might join you and make this tale stronger?”

  Abani’s eyes shot to me. Her intention was clear.

  We did want to please the tales, especially if something was attacking them. And I had a feeling this elf and I would enjoy each other’s company quite a bit. Sargon Tor had named me a Keeper of Tales, and here was a collector of tales. It seemed we would make a good fit. “Your logic makes sense to me, but you’ll need to be able to protect yourself in a fight.”

  Abani laughed. “Yolian will do almost as well as I will!”

  That was enough for me. Lazul grumbled about not having enough dwarves, but when I reminded him we’d be traveling through Graz lands soon enough, he relented. “They might be poor dwarves compared to us, but at least they’re dwarves!”

  Chapter Twenty

  The afternoon passed slowly, except when Karen Cordolis appeared to introduce herself to Yolian. “I heard your respect for stories, and well, here I am!”

  The elf grinned at her. “I’ve traveled to
many places and met many people, but you are the first potato maiden I’ve met!”

  “I’m just an old-fashioned woman who likes to get things done.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Yolian answered.

  The two chatted for a while before Karen returned herself to hiding in Lazul’s pack. Yolian did not object to this one secret from Odenias.

  I enjoyed propping my feet up on a bench and closing my eyes. Korah and Galatea remained secluded in a dark corner of the hall. Cerulean and Lazul fell to a game of Derringes. Lazul did not do nearly as badly as I would suspect him to, facing an elf. I did notice Karen Cordolis whispering ideas into his ear from his pack, though. Both the elf and the dwarf kept their eyes open for anyone who entered the hall.

  After a few hours, Daragen returned. He would not speak of what happened, but sat alone in a far corner of the hall. He answered no questions, even pertaining to what, if anything, he had told his Father.

  Galatea sulked from afar. She buried her face in Korah’s white fur cloak and refused to speak with her mate.

  An hour later Odenias returned, his eyebrows high. “Well? Have you decided whether I am worthy to hear your tale?”

  I took the lead: “Mighty lord, we are on a mission commissioned by all the races and all the nations on this earth.”

  “Yes, I can see that. You have many nations and races among your number. Even one of my people, though I’m sure you didn’t know of that until today.”

  “You’re correct. King Padokat sent him with us when we stopped in Scarletholme,” I affirmed.

  “Ah, well the Garrendai King likely knew Daragen was not of his own people but would be a faithful companion to you. Daragen tells me he was the king’s first mate before he joined your mission.”

  And there was the important bit: “Daragen tells me.” He knew at least parts of our story already. He was simply inviting us to tell it ourselves now.

  Odenias and I smiled at each other, nodding in mutual understanding. Then Odenias leaned forward. “So why have you come together? To what end?”

  I spoke to him as a friend, for I was certain he intended to aid us. “Abani discovered the Fallen Lord is moving to invade our lands and conquer Chariis. We have been sent to discover why he thinks now is the time to attack. Meanwhile, every nation will gather its forces near the Fabled City for protection.”

  Odenias nodded. “And I shall send men to defend our ancient home as well.” It was apparent this much of our tale he already knew from Daragen. But then he paused to consider. “Surely there was more than one dwarf willing to be on such a mission requiring large amounts of courage.”

  Lazul bristled at this and was about to speak, but Cerulean laid a hand on his shoulder.

  I responded. “Garethen attacked many of our group before we could even gather. We have not been able to avenge the fallen.” I glanced back at Lazul. His eyes were wide. He did not want to be reminded.

  “You speak truly?” Odenias’s demeanor remained friendly as his eyes moved from face to face, lingering just a moment on Yolian’s. “And so I see the real reason you have come to me. You do not come to plumb the secrets of our little town, but to seek needed rest.” His gaze shifted to Daragen. “You have brought our son back to us. We were most pleased to set our eyes on him again.” He breathed deeply through his nose. “You shall have what you require. Provisions for the journey ahead, too. You have spoken to me true. All I ask in return is that you stay tonight and tomorrow before you move on. Let us celebrate the return of our son Daragen.”

  He looked sharply to me. “Fear not, King Adal, Lord of the North. This mission shall not be shared to others who may be in Garethen’s sway. We may not always stand with the nations, but we shall always stand against the Fell Lord.”

  After an afternoon of rest, the town gathered into the hall to celebrate. Only a few guards remained outside to walk the walls. A great feast was served. We were guests of honor, and all the people treated us as such. Most of us joined the celebration. Galatea continued to sulk despite the festivities. Korah attempted to cheer her and urged her to join the celebration with us. He was not very talented in this kind of task, though.

  Odenias stood before his throne and announced as we ate, “Come, my children! Our son Daragen has returned to us! He shall not be here long. He is in the employ of Padokat, a King of the West. When he has completed his mission, he tells me he shall return and teach our people all he has learned in his journeys. Then we shall all be blessed!”

  The people cheered. Once more I noted that there were few men of fighting age, but it made sense to me now. I should have realized it before. If they sent the majority of their men off to learn from other nations, then it would result in fewer men being in the town at any given moment.

  The night’s revelry was great. Music and ale flowed freely, and most of my companions appeared to enjoy themselves. Most. When we finally settled down to rest in the hall, we knew we were surrounded by friends.

  The next day passed swiftly. The town lay open before us, and the others went forth to explore. I found the heat outside bothered me enough that the cool shadows became my friends. I requested any tomes the town might have of local stories, and I immersed myself in reading.

  I also saw what my companions were doing, even as I remained in the hall. I didn’t understand why I saw these things, but neither did I have a way to control the visions. I did my best to remember all I saw, trusting the stories would give me a reason in the end.

  Yolian went out to bid farewell to new friends, and he insisted that Abani come with him. They visited an old man with a beard as white as mine, who jumped up to greet the elf and showed great honor to Abani. “Once I danced with a woman who wore silks like yours. She was the most amazing woman I have ever known. You will make some man happy someday.”

  Abani’s eyes closed tightly for a moment. “I will never please another man.” Her face was much more emotionless than I had ever seen it.

  Lazul was led to the stables, so he could have his own mount instead of riding with Korah all the time. Once he had found an acceptable steed, he examined the walls about the city, exclaiming as he went at how it was a strong edifice, though it should not have been. “It’s as if I dropped a pile of rubble and it formed itself into a fortress! It shouldn’t be, and yet it is!”

  Cerulean took the opportunity to bathe.

  Daragen sulked with his father, Hilden. Together they trained some of the young men in Garrendai ways. Daragen refused to talk about a woman named Thelis, though his father asked about her many times.

  Korah and Galatea walked beyond the town and out of sight of any of the inhabitants. I will not share what they did, except to say that Korah helped distract Galatea from any of the feelings of betrayal she harbored. When they returned at dusk, Galatea smiled, but Korah only looked more awkward than before.

  Revelries once more filled the night. As the music began again, I chose to step out of the hall and into the night. As warm as it had been during the day, it was now cool outside. Perhaps all the warmth of the light had passed inside the hall, leaving the cold outside by itself.

  I saw the silhouettes of guards walking the walls. Behind me a half-moon was low on the horizon, and the stars shone above. Then I heard a shout from the gate of the city. Another shout followed. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw something that was somehow familiar: a blue glow around the gate.

  “No,” I whispered. I raced back into the hall. I grabbed Abani, the first companion I came across. “They’ve found us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As Abani dashed to gather the other companions, I rushed out to prepare the horses. As soon as I had stepped out the door, a guard met me on the stone steps. “Lord Adal?”

  I reined in my rush to answer him. “Yes?”

  “There are strange men at the gate. One wishes to speak with you. Come with me, please.” He placed a hand around my upper arm, not giving me the chance to make any excuses. He led me toward
the gate.

  Empty streets greeted us as we passed through the town. Every building held dark windows. Everyone was in the hall. Our footsteps were the only sound. The guard didn’t speak with me. He didn’t smile or look around as we made our way through the abandoned city.

  We reached the wall. He led me up stone steps near the gate. Several guards looked down at the visitor below, wary. They parted to let me see what lay beyond the wall.

  Wisps of blue flame wrapped around not one, but several visitors. Tongues of flame drenched the area around them in a cold blue light. They appeared as seven horses and riders. The riders wore metal breastplates of simple design. Their helmets were plain skull caps made of dark leather. They did not carry shields but bore long swords, dark and plain. The faces were lean, barely more than skin stretched over jaws and skulls. They had only darkness where they should have had eyes.

  One looked at me. “All hail Naeharum Adal, Keeper of Tales.” The whispered voice sounded as if it were next to my ear.

  The other riders raised their heads. “All hail.” Their voices came as one, as if it was the same voice spoken from multiple throats.

  Keeper of Tales.

  That title. That title Sargon Tor had given me.

  And here were these things that somehow attacked and perhaps destroyed stories.

  But whatever they were, they were dangerous. Clearly Gareth-Spawn. I glanced at the guard, incredulous. “Can’t you see these things aren’t men? Aren’t you supposed to raise the alarm?”

  The guard looked confused. “My lord? There’s only a rider in a cloak.”

  I looked him in the eye. His pupils had faded from black to a flickering blue. Then the guard spoke in the same raspy whisper, “Lord Adal, we wish to speak with you.”

  He reached toward me. After a few backpedaling paces, I turned and raced down the stairs and back to the hall. The town must be warned, and we must fly. Quickly.