by RG Long
He stopped turning pages and, looking as if he knew what he would find once he arrived here, sighed deeply.
“Unfortunately,” he said, turning the book around so that all might see the contents he was indicating, “The page I was most interested in has been removed from the book.”
In-between two ancient looking pages, one bearing a picture of a map, the other of a great demon, was the remnants of a page that had been torn away.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Jurrin said after everyone had taken in the sight. “But what's this have to do with the young lady who can't do magic?”
“I can do magic just fine,” Blume said, giving the halfling a resentful look. Ealrin put a hand on her arm.
“It's okay,” he said to her quietly.
“I'm not yet sure of the connection,” Holve said, placing the book on the table, pages up to the place he had turned to. “But I have a few questions and some guesses.”
He looked back to Blume.
“After having spoken to you last month when you awoke, you told me that Rayg had mentioned not serving Androlion, but someone else. Someone whom he called Lord. And, if Ealrin is to be believed in his hearing Rayg command the demons as if their equal, we have an enemy at hand whom we need to become aware of.”
“Does this have to do with that crazy comet?” Tory asked, looking from Holve to Blume. “You had said...”
“Yes, Tory,” Holve interrupted. “I believe it does have to do with the Dark Comet and what I told you in the north ought to stay there.”
Tory looked back at Holve, a surprised expression on his face.
Holve continued.
“The amulet Blume wears, the comet, and the demons that sprang from it and attacked our land are all interconnected in some way. I believe that the bloodshed and death we have seen on Ruyn this past year is not the culmination of events we have witnessed, but instead a harbinger. A forerunner to more terrible things yet to come.”
This proclamation sent everyone into asking questions all at once.
“More terrible?”
“What's to come?”
"What are you talking about?"
Holve spoke over all of this.
“I don't know yet,” he said loudly. “I only have guesses.”
“That and,” he pointed down at the book again. “This map.”
Ealrin craned his neck so that he could see what Holve was pointing at. Opposite the page where a demon that looked like the ones that had rained down on Beaton was drawn lay a map of a land he didn't recognize.”
“Irradan?” Wisym asked, being closest to the book, besides Holve.
“Yes,” he replied. “The birthplace of elves in the west. On this map is indicated one translated place: The Everring Tree.”
“I've never heard of such a place,” Silverwolf said, speaking for the first time.
Holve turned to her.
“Have you traveled to Irradan, assassin?”
“Perhaps,” she replied defensively.
Ealrin sat up more in his chair.
“And you think this tree...”
“I think,” Holve said. “That I have a great need to travel to Irradan and speak with an old friend of mine.”
He sat down in his chair for the first time and took the mug that had recently been levitated off the table.
“And very much in conflict with how I normally travel,” he said, looking around the room. “I would ask that you all accompany me to Irradan on this journey. King Thoran established the Swords of the King to be an elite fighting force in his kingdom that sought peace for, not just Thoran, but the entire continent of Ruyn. I would like to expand that mission beyond its original invention. If you all would join me, we would then become The Swords. We would have one aim: to secure peace across Gilia, no matter the cost. I desire for everyone gathered in this room to become a part of this group, seeing as how you've all proven yourself both in battle and in your desire for peace. Most of all, Miss Blume.”
Holve took a long draft of his drink and smacked his lips as he looked around at those who had come to the meeting. There hung in the air a feeling of something great happening. It was as if history was being made in a small, grimy inn in the meanest city Ruyn had to offer. Yet it felt as if it was the most important thing that would happen in an age.
Ealrin spoke first.
“If Blume is going then so am I,” he said, looking at her. She was staring fixedly at the floor. He had come to see her more and more as his charge and would not abandon her on such a quest.
“My people have mostly gone to join those in the north,” Wisym said. “I never was the leader of elves, my predecessor was. Perhaps I can learn how to be from the elves of Irradan.”
Tory swirled his mug around in his hand.
“I'm not too keen on sailing, you know,” he said.
“You'll go where your general and princess tell you you're going,” Teresa said with finality. “You're going because I am.”
Holve raised an eyebrow at her.
“You are comfortable leaving your father's kingdom to your brother?” he asked.
She tapped her foot several times on the floor.
“No,” she replied honestly. “But I don't want to start a war to regain Thoran from him, undeserving as he is. I go with Wisym. I am in her debt.”
She made a bow to the elf.
“Without you, I would not have known of my brother's treachery. I daresay if he was willing to kill Folke, I may well have escaped my own early death.”
Wisym smiled at Teresa.
“I'm glad to call you my ally and friend, rightful heir to Thoran's throne.”
“Bah,” Gorplin said as he called Elezar over to fill what Ealrin was sure was his fifth mug of whatever he was drinking. “The dwarves of the west went back to their mountains and my kindred are more than happy to return to the south and never see daylight again.”
He sighed.
“I've gotten the taste for adventure and I can't get a full belly,” he said with longing in his eyes. “Even if it is to the elves, I'll be joining you, Holve.”
“Even if it is...” Wisym began, a hurt look in her eyes.
“Pay him no mind,” Holve interrupted. “Gorplin has not been well known for his soft speech.”
“That's an understatement,” Tory muttered.
Teresa elbowed him.
“I'll go wherever Mister Gorplin goes, Mister Holve, sir,” Jurrin said in his usual polite tones.
“Yup,” Jurgon echoed, devouring a chicken leg.
“But,” Jurrin continued, looking around the room at Blume. “I haven't heard her say she's willing yet.”
All eyes turned to Blume.
She had not looked anywhere but the floor during this entire discussion of going to Irradan and Ealrin saw no indication in her that she wished to look elsewhere.
More to the floor than to anyone in particular, Blume finally spoke.
“You saved me,” she said. “You and Ealrin. You took care of me. Even when you had no clue who I was. Then you nursed me back to health after Rayg and all.”
She looked up, right at Holve.
“If you think that going to Irradan might stop something like this happening somewhere else,” she said with resoluteness in her voice that was becoming clearer every moment. “I'll go.”
Holve gave her a rare smile.
“We are your servants, Miss Dearcrest,” he said, inclining his head toward her.
“Off on a journey without any clue where you're going or for what,” Silverwolf said derisively. “You're a funny lot, all of you.”
Everyone turned to look at her, arms crossed and hood over her head.
“Staying behind then?” Ealrin asked, looking at her standing in her corner.
“By fate's design I have business in Irradan,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “That book has made me enough coins to make the voyage and I'm keen to get off of Ruyn. I've been here too long as it is.”
&nb
sp; Blume gave a small laugh.
“Sounds a lot better than our reason doesn't it?” she asked Ealrin, loud enough for more than his ears to hear.
The two of them chuckled for a moment and looked to Holve, who was now considering the book in front of him.
Then the doors to the inn burst open and two figures pushed their way inside, carrying a third.
“Here now!” Elezar said, marching over to them. “Can't you read? We're closed!”
Ealrin recognized Felicia and Urt immediately. Holve stood up and called to Elezar, “It's okay! Let them in!”
Between them they carried a man who looked like he'd been soaked in a rainstorm, though the sky was clear and there wasn't a drop of rain to be found.
“What's this?” Holve asked Felicia as they brought the man in and laid him on the table.
“Found him near drowned to death in the water as we shoved off,” she answered. “He was holding on for dear life to a piece of driftwood and this.”
She tossed a scrap of parchment that was nothing more than a ragged, crumpled mess with faded ink onto the table next to where they had laid him.
Blume went over to examine it.
“It's a map,” she said, peering down at it as she flattened it out. Those who weren't attending to the soaking wet survivor had gathered around her.
“Where's Redact, ma’am?” Jurrin asked, squinting over the paper and looking quizzically at it.
Blume shrugged.
The man was young. Ealrin thought he could only be a few years younger than himself. It looked like the man had seen the worst of the open sea. His skin was badly burned from exposure to the sun and there were several cuts, scrapes, and bruises on him. Most prominent of these was a scabbed and bleeding wound visible through his matted hair. The jacket he wore resembled the one Ealrin had worn the evening he had washed ashore to this same island.
In fact, the uniform was nearly identical to his.
With a spluttering cough, the man wrenched forward, sending everyone back a pace in shock. Ealrin was the first to approach him and try to persuade him to lie back down upon the table.
“Easy now,” he said soothingly, putting his hand on his chest and easing him back flat.
Startlingly, the man reached for Ealrin's arm and grasped it firmly. Something flickered in the man's eyes as he looked around, finally finding Ealrin's own and blinking many times.
There was a certain look of recognition in the eyes staring back at him.
“Captain?” he said weakly, his pupils dilating as if attempting to focus. His voice was hoarse and weak, as if he were straining to say every word. “Where ya been, Ealrin?”
And with a last, deep sigh, the man's head fell back to the table and his eyes became fixed, staring up at the man who couldn't remember who it was that had just called Ealrin's name with his final breath.
46: Family
Gripping onto the railing of the ship, Ealrin stood looking out over the horizon and towards the west. The suns were behind them, as was the wind. Wonderful sea air filled his lungs and, for the time being, he enjoyed the fact that he wasn't sick to his stomach. The sound of Blume's singing drifted over him. Sails unfurled and pulled tight, the Willow's Flight glided over calm seawaters.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
“You know,” Blume said as she walked up behind him, dressed in dark blue pants and a white shirt, her amulet dangling around her neck. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She had grown so much in the last year. It wouldn't surprise him if she were eye to eye with him in two years’ time.
“If you keep looking out that way, we'll never see Irradan,” she said, resting her elbows on the railing. “Mom always told me not to watch for something to come unless you wanted to make it take longer to get to you.”
Ealrin chuckled.
“She was right,” he said, turning his attention to her and looking back over to the crew that was now bustling before dinner was served.
“You're still certain you're headed in the right direction?” she asked tentatively.
It was true, after hearing that someone had finally crossed his path that had recognized him and had a clue about him that might point to who he used to be, that Ealrin was sorely tempted to run off and discover his past.
But there was something tugging him in the opposite direction as well.
“He's stuck with his decision,” Holve said grumpily as he moved slowly along the ship's deck. Ealrin had forgotten that the old man hated sailing. “At least until we arrive in Irradan.”
Holve gripped the railing tightly and closed his eyes.
“The sooner we get there, the better,” he said as he breathed in the air around him slowly. Holve was more irritable when sailing than any other time. Ealrin was simply excited to be traveling with the first friend he had made on Ruyn, though part of him did wish it were in the other direction.
Still, there was certainly something about choosing west towards the elves instead of east towards what may have been his homeland that seemed right to Ealrin. Distantly, the last glimpses of Ruyn were fading into the sunset.
“I'm certain,” Ealrin said, ruffling Blume's hair with his hand and smiling at her. “At least, I'm certain I need to keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble. Holve tells me there's some very skilled Speakers in Irradan who may well be willing to teach you a thing or two.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” said a voice from above them.
Silverwolf sat casually on top of the forward most sail, leaning on the mast, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Her white hair braided into a single plait was flying with the wind. For this trip, she had relented herself of her cloak and simply wore her brown leather pants, a white shirt and a grey jacket. Blades were still attached, however, to more than the four places Ealrin could count from his vantage point.
Blume rolled her eyes, but not in a way that Silverwolf could see.
“I can't believe she came,” she said in a quiet tone. In the short time that Blume had known her, she had a growing mistrust of her. Ealrin couldn't blame her entirely. She was, after all, a professional killer. “What's she got to do with us finding out about demons and this comet?”
“Perhaps more than we yet realize,” replied Holve in a measured tone that was difficult to gauge. “She was more eager to come to Irradan than she let on, that's for sure.”
Ealrin wondered if Holve was glad of the additional skill in combat or regretting allowing her to come. Only time would tell.
“Do you suppose you'll want to go to Redact soon?” asked Blume, speaking in a normal tone and looking up at Ealrin. “Aren't you curious about who you were?”
“Someday,” he replied, giving her a wink and looking back towards the horizon. Soon they would eat supper and begin the night's watch. Ealrin was first up to walk the deck of the ship under the stars and he wasn't sorry for the chance to think without others around.
His time on Ruyn had taught him much about loyalty, violence, race, respect, and peace. Perhaps on Irradan he would find more important lessons for him to learn. And maybe, perhaps, he would find more clues about who he was in his life before washing ashore on Good Harbor and being swept into the war for Ruyn.
“Someday,” he repeated, gazing far off. “I'll find out who I was. But for now, I'm more concerned about who I'm becoming.”
“Less chatter and more chowder, you lazy, bickerin' bilge-filth!” Felicia, in full foul-mouthed form now that they had set sail, called from behind the wheel. Blume and Ealrin both spun around to see her berating Tory and Gorplin who were supposed to be setting out the evening meal but were, instead, arguing about who would be getting first dibs.
Teresa was walking down the steps from the loft, a scowl on her face and apparently ready to give them both a stern talking to. Jurrin and Jurgon both sat at their leisure at the table, spoons and bowls in hand, ready to eat their fill. Wisym and Urt were in deep conversation behind Felicia, consulting what E
alrin knew to be a table bearing many sea charts and maps.
He smiled, contentedly.
There had certainly been difficult times in his last year and sorrow beyond measure. But for the moment he was sharing with those aboard the Willow's Flight, those whom he considered to be his closest friends and the next best thing to family, he wouldn't have traded for anything.
Author's Note
Thanks so much for reading this first trilogy in my epic series, "The Legends of Gilia"!
When I set out to write this story, I decided I wanted to write five trilogies following the tales of Ealrin and his friends across five fantasty continents. I wanted to give my readers places to explore, cultures to interact with, friends to cheer on and foes to fear.
I hope you've enjoyed the journey so far.
The companions aren't done! More adventures await you as you continue on with Ealrin and Blume on their journey. I hope you'll continue reading and love every page!
Find me on social media and the internet. Ask a question or send an encouragement my way. I'd love to hear from you!
Again, thanks for reading!
Enjoy the journey!
RG LONG
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