The Lost Princess of Aevilen

by D. C. Payson

  His expression hardened. “This is why I train, Lothic,” he said. “This is why I left. I will fight the evil that has done this, whether it is a death cult or not.”

  “I know, Eodan. I know … ” Lothic brought the cart to a halt and looked north toward the twin spires of Riverstride. “I do not think you were wrong to leave.”

  “What? Why do you say that?” Thezdan replied incredulously. “What do you know about my choices?”

  “We all take the path we think best,” said Lothic. “Some, like you, choose to fight; I could not. But we all hope for the same thing: to serve our people as best we can. Hopefully a day will come when you understand what happened at the Trebain.”

  Thezdan bristled at the mention of their former home and the allusion to the battle that claimed it—the battle that Lothic had fled. He closed his eyes, counting his breaths to suppress his rising anger.

  “We came to find Domin, not to discuss the past,” he said finally.

  Lothic offered a shallow nod and whipped the borum back into motion.

  As the cart neared the house, Thezdan and Lothic kept careful watch of the building and surrounding area, keen to find signs of life. Lothic drew a sword from under his tunic. He placed it on the driver’s bench between them.

  “Let us both be ready,” he said.

  “Is that sword going to be of any use against Domin, if he is as you described him?” Thezdan asked.

  “It is not Domin I’m preparing for; I’m worried about Party loyalists. We cannot be sure that this is still Domin’s house. The Party may have evicted him but kept this place for the distillery out back. His liquor was always quite popular in Riverstride.”

  As a precaution, Lothic drove the cart past the house along the road. When their passing caused no obvious disturbance, he turned around and pulled the cart onto the grass near the front door.

  Thezdan jumped down from the driver’s bench.

  “Wait,” called Lothic in a loud whisper. He gingerly lowered himself from the cart and limped over toward Thezdan. “Go look through the window. If it’s clear, gesture with two fingers up. If you see any activity inside, wave your hand over the ground. Alright?”

  “Alright,” Thezdan agreed. He crept over to a position beside one of the windows. With his shoulder against the wall, he craned his neck and peered into the house.

  He was shocked by what he saw.

  The interior was covered in polished stone, with magnificently ornate, metal buttresses rising from the floor to support the arched ceiling. From the ceiling’s center hung a mirrored glass apparatus that cast light throughout the room, creating a beautiful, shimmering effect inside. There was very little furniture. The only pieces he could make out were a circular, stone table carved from a single piece of white stone that resided under the chandelier; a set of metal stools tucked under the table; and a legless stone and metal seat resembling a winged armchair set against the wall.

  Thezdan pulled back from the window for a moment and looked up. Above him were the wooden eaves and thatched roof that had been the house’s most identifiable feature from the road. He realized now that these features were but a disguise, masking the extraordinary metalwork and stonework that lay within.

  Thezdan turned back toward the cart and made the two-fingers-up gesture he had been shown before. Lothic repeated the gesture back, and began hobbling over toward the house.

  “What is this place?” Thezdan asked.

  “It is Domin’s house, as I’ve told you,” said Lothic.

  “Yes, I know, but it is not a normal house. What is that device that hangs from the ceiling?”

  Lothic looked in the window and smiled. “Oh yes. I had forgotten that you have not seen Ymreddan. Imagine a place nearly the size of Riverstride, but buried within a mountain and filled with light like this. Here the light is probably coming from a hole in the ceiling. In Ymreddan … well, perhaps you’ll one day see it for yourself. It is no surprise that Domin has tried to create something here that reminds him of his home, though I would imagine that it does little to relieve the anguish of his exile.”

  “If this is all by his hand, then his skill is formidable.”

  “Indeed, it is. This is what’s possible with three hundred years of steady practice.”

  Thezdan nodded. “In any case, the master is not home. What should we do now?”

  “I don’t see anything inside that might help us,” said Lothic. He stepped back and pointed to the other side of the house, in the direction of the still. “We should work our way around the house, starting over there. If we’re lucky, we’ll find something that will point us in his direction.”

  Suddenly a voice called to them from nearby. “Hello? Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Thezdan turned to see a young man holding a long fire poke in his hands. He was well-fed, unusual for someone living outside the cities, with a broad, cherubic face. He affected toughness, but his soft body and the uncoordinated way he ambled with the fire poke made him more comical than threatening.

  “We’re looking for Domin,” Thezdan said. “We’ve brought grains for his stills.”

  “No, you haven’t. I hand-cut the grains myself, and our supplies are sufficient for the next month.” The man stopped right in front of them and leaned forward into Thezdan’s face, his breath reeking of dark spirits. “You wouldn’t be the first peasants who thought they could sneak up here and steal from us. I think you should go before you feel the pain of Rokkin pole technique.”

  Lothic let out a deep belly laugh.

  The man scowled. “Don’t think I won’t—”

  Thezdan quickly slapped the man with his right hand, then he snatched the pole from him with his left. The man was too shocked to yell; he just rubbed his face, eying Thezdan.

  “As I said, we’re looking for Domin,” Thezdan said. “Is he here?”

  The man looked over at the cart and saw Lothic’s sword; no peasant would have carried such a weapon. He took off running. “Help! Thieves!”

  Thezdan hurled the fire poke like a spear at him, catching the man flush in the back with the blunt side. The man fell to the ground, shrieking. Thezdan leapt on top of him and covered his mouth with his hand.

  “Look at me,” he said to the wriggling man. “LOOK AT ME.”

  The man finally lay still, the color draining from his face.

  “Good,” said Thezdan. “Now, do you know where Domin is?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  The man winced and shook his head again.

  “How could you not know where you master is?”

  The man’s eyes welled with tears.

  “You don’t need to cry,” said Thezdan, letting up a bit. “I just want to talk. So long as you don’t scream, nothing bad will happen. Do you understand?”

  The man nodded rapidly.

  Thezdan removed his hand from the man’s mouth and rolled off of him. The man sat up and held his head in his hands, sobbing.

  Thezdan turned to face Lothic, who had come up beside him. “What do you think we should do?” he whispered. “He could give us away.”

  “Nothing,” said Lothic. “He is innocent, Eodan. We cannot fault him for trying to protect his master’s property.”

  “But if we leave him, he will alert a Party guard or patrol. Are we choosing his life over ours?”

  Lothic nodded. “Perhaps, but maybe I can tilt things in our favor.” He walked over to the man and knelt by his side. “What’s your name?”

  “S-s-suni,” the man choked out. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No, Suni,” said Lothic. “Did Domin ever mention a person named Lothic to you? Or perhaps Sithic?”

  The man shook his head. “Domin doesn’t talk to me much. I’m only here because my uncle on the Provisions Subcommittee of the Party got me this job. Domin gives me orders, and I do what he says.”

 
“But he taught you Rokkin pole technique?”

  The man looked up and wiped his eyes. He nodded and offered a shallow smile. “Yeah. Well, sort of. We were robbed once, so he taught me a few things.”

  Lothic reached for the fire poke and stood up. “Did he show you this?” Lothic raised the weapon above his head and spun it like a helicopter blade, then he pivoted on his good leg and swung the weapon with tremendous force. It whizzed right in front of the man’s nose, making an intimidating woosh as it passed by.

  The man lurched backward and covered his face, toppling over in the grass. A moment later, he sat up again and looked at Lothic. “You swing almost as hard as he does. How do you know how to do that?”

  Lothic smiled. “That’s a long story that I’m afraid we don’t have time for. I need to find Domin. It’s urgent.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” said the man. “He went north this morning, but there are lots of places he could have gone.”

  “Could anything here give us a clue?” Thezdan asked.

  The man almost said something, then he hesitated. “Y-you promise you’re not thieves, right?”

  “We’re not,” said Thezdan.

  The man sized them up again, shaking his head at his own predicament. “He’d be so mad if he knew I told you.” He pointed toward what looked like a grassy hill nearby. “You should probably check his aging cave, over there. I’m not allowed in there, but if you tell me which barrels he took, maybe I can help you figure out where he went.”

  “That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” said Lothic. “Eodan, let’s go.”

  “Suni, why don’t you come with us?” said Thezdan. “To show us the way.”

  The man got up and reluctantly led them in the direction of the nearby hill. As they got closer, Thezdan noticed a set of thin wheel tracks in the grass leading straight up to the slope, but they seemingly ended there. He was intrigued. The group followed the tracks all the way to a grayish, vine-covered object set into the hillside. The camouflage had worked from a distance, but now, close as they were, it was clear that this was something that didn’t belong. Thezdan went over and cast the vines aside, revealing a simple, metal door.

  “Lothic, you stay here with our friend,” said Thezdan. “I’ll have a look inside.”

  “Very well,” said Lothic. “Let me know if you need help with that door.”

  Thezdan raised his eyebrows. He grabbed hold of the iron ring handle and pulled. The door proved much heavier than he expected; his initial tug barely cracked it open. Heavy it was though, he was determined to open it without Lothic’s help.

  He rubbed his hands together and grit his teeth. Grabbing hold of the ring, he pulled again with all his strength. The door lurched forward, opening just enough to let a man pass through. Thezdan turned around and raised an arm in victory. Lothic smiled and mimicked the gesture.

  Thezdan squeezed through the crack he’d opened, finding himself in a short antechamber leading to a large, nearly pitch-black room beyond. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but soon Thezdan was able to resolve a row of barrels arranged horizontally along racks. The room seemed to be shaped like a “P,” its walls and ceiling supported by less ornate versions of the buttresses he had seen in the house. The left wall of the cellar featured a row of barrels resting sideways on fitted supports, along with a number of jugs on the floor. A center rack held a similar row of barrels trailing off into the darkness.

  Thezdan pushed forward, using his hand to feel his way through the obstacles as he moved farther in. Around the corner, he noticed a change in the arrangement of the barrels. They stood on their ends here, with at least two or three arranged like this nearby. Suddenly, his shin collided with a hard, metal object. The object tipped over and hit the ground with a shrill clang.

  “Shaper smite you!” he cussed, grabbing his leg.

  “Are you alright?” called Lothic from the antechamber.

  “I’m fine. I just banged myself on some sort of metal rod.”

  “Can you see anything back there?”

  “Not really,” said Thezdan. “I can’t tell how far back it goes. There are a few barrels standing on their ends here, and I think I can see the outlines of some sort of contraption behind them.”

  “You might be right. It would make sense for there to be a filter-transfer device in there somewhere.”

  “Could it tell us anything?” Thezdan asked.

  “Maybe, but can you find that thing you tripped over?”

  Thezdan groped around in the dark for the offending object. He soon found it, a long, metal shaft connected to a flat plate at the bottom. It was warm to the touch. He took it back to the doorway and passed it to Lothic.

  “It’s warm … that’s good,” Lothic said. He turned around to examine it in the light. “Eodan, can you tell me if the standing barrels are full?”

  Thezdan walked back into the aging cave and tried to rock one of the large barrels from side to side. It was impossibly heavy. He returned to Lothic. “Yes, they are.”

  “Alright, then,” said Lothic. “I’m pretty sure I know where our distiller has gone.”

  Thezdan followed Lothic out of the cellar and saw that the metal object was a stamp of some kind. “What is that?” he asked.

  “It’s a barrel brand. That’s why it feels warm: the bottom was heated up until it was very hot, and then it was stamped against a barrel. The heat sears a name into the wood; in this case, the People’s Rest. That’s where Domin has probably gone.”

  “What makes you think we’ll find Domin there? What if Suni is just lying to us and the Party has taken over the distillery, as you said?”

  Lothic pointed at the brand’s handle. “There’s no wood here. A Rokkin’s hand could tolerate the heat; a man’s hand, not a chance. If the Party had taken over, these brands would have been sheathed with wooden grips by now.”

  Thezdan grinned. He could not deny Lothic’s intelligence. “Hey, Suni,” he called to the man seated nearby, “where’s the People’s Rest?”

  The man pointed toward Riverstride. “I think that’s the one just south of the southern drawbridge.”

  “He’s right,” said Lothic.

  “You know it?” Eodan said, surprised.

  “Quite well,” said Lothic, showing a sad half-smile.

  “Alright, Suni,” said Thezdan. “We have to go, but I don’t trust you to not make a bad decision.”

  The man covered his mouth, his face contorted with dread.

  “Don’t worry, we’re not going to kill you,” Thezdan continued. He ducked into the aging cave and returned a moment later with a stoppered jug. “But you have to choose. Would you like us to lock you in the hill, or would you like to drink this until I say stop?”

  “Please just let me go,” the man whined.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” said Thezdan.

  The man slouched and reached for the jug. “I guess I’d rather drink.”

  Thezdan sat beside him and removed the stopper. The alcoholic vapors wafting out made his nose burn.

  “Here you go,” Thezdan said, passing the jug to the man. “Three good swigs, please.”

  “Ugh,” the man groaned, smelling the liquor himself. “Ashen Rain. This one’s so strong.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Thezdan. “I hope you’ll excuse our caution.”

  The man nodded meekly. He took a swig, holding the liquid in his mouth for a second before choking it down. He coughed wildly then wiped his face on his sleeve.

  “One,” said Thezdan.

  The man took another swig and swallowed. “Ughhhhh,” he groaned.

  “Two,” said Thezdan.

  The man took a final swig. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes bugged out. “There, I did it! Now let me go!”

  “Very well,” said Thezdan. “Please come see us off, then you’re free to go.”

  “Really?” said the man, smiling. “Okay, I
can do that.”

  The group got up and headed back to the cart. About halfway there, Thezdan heard a thump behind him. He turned to see the man lying unconscious on the grass.

  “He’s going to feel that later,” said Lothic. “Ashen Rain is indeed very, very strong. I’m surprised he even made it to a third hit on the bottle back there.”

  “Me, too,” said Thezdan. “Come, Lothic, it’s time to head out. The People’s Rest awaits.”

  Lothic shook his head. “Eodan, that’s too far into the heart of Party territory. Not only that, we would have very little chance of making it home by nightfall. We would have to hide somewhere or risk exposing ourselves to the Night Reapers. Why not wait a few days? We’ll be able to meet up with Domin here eventually.”

  Thezdan peered into the eyes of his companion. His mind harkened back to his father’s warnings to him when he was just a young boy. Adhere to the curfew, and beware the Night Reapers, Nodan. They are much stronger than normal soldiers, and they kill anyone they find breaking curfew. Even Eobax, strong as he was, had seemed afraid. Thezdan had never gone against his father’s admonition, but today was different. He felt an urgency inside him that wouldn’t allow for caution.

  “I’m sorry, Lothic,” he said. “I need to go today. You may wait here if you wish, and I will go alone, but I will not wait.”

  “What is going on, Eodan? I’ve never known you to be reckless.”

  Thezdan turned away. “It’s the Vorraver girl. I feel a duty to her. Finding Domin may help us uncover some of the mystery around her arrival and purpose here.” He rubbed his neck, trying to come to terms with the powerful feelings running through him. “I need to get back to her. I need to protect her myself. Aevilen is a dangerous place. I need to be there with her, Lothic. I don’t trust anyone else.”

  Lothic paused to consider what Thezdan had said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appearing on his face. “These feelings are your heritage, Eodan. But you must realize that you cannot serve her by getting killed or captured by the Party.”