The Draknoir warriors slowed their pace towards them, knowing his plight was grave and there would be no escaping the impending doom. Silas held up Asher's head and looked into the old man's eyes. The once vibrant blue he had remembered was quickly fading away, as the old Slayer breathed in short, erratic spurts. He gripped Silas' hand in his cold, clammy fingers with what little strength he had left, fighting the unwelcome darkness ahead.
"You fought bravely today, my lord ... you've brought no shame to the King or me," Asher gasped.
"Be still, Asher, old friend. Do not let the darkness take you, please."
"My time has come, my Prince. You must flee ... to the Feilon River ... all hope is lost if you die beside me ... go."
"I cannot leave you here." Silas looked up to see the Draknoir slowly approaching down the hill at the foot of the forest. Their yellow eyes glared at him like vultures encircling a carcass.
"You must go now, my lord ... fly. Fly to the Feilon," he said with a strained voice. Then his grip on Silas loosed, and his body grew limp. A final rasping breath escaped his lips as his eyes looked toward the night sky.
Silas felt rage and sorrow fill his mind as he held onto Asher's hand among the hewn bodies of Draknoir and Drachengarde in the night. His mentor and friend had been taken away by the demonic beasts who now wished to lay a final blow upon him. Everything within his soul urged him to fight them to avenge Asher's death and the death of so many innocents slain by their filthy hands. But he could not deny Asher's last request. He must flee to Feilon River. If he died in this field, there would be no one left to avenge his fallen friend, his fellow Slayers, or more importantly, his sister. He fought back the painful memory of her death so many years ago and willed himself to stand—to run.
Silas stood amid the stench of blood and death around him. The glowing yellow eyes of Nergoth's followers gleamed as they gathered a few feet from him. They watched him with crooked smiles that revealed jagged teeth. Their mouths uttered foul words he could not understand, but their eyes and movements revealed their intentions.
"You will not bring me down this night, nor any night, before the blood of your kind runs fresh on my sword," Silas growled. He grabbed the arrow lodged within his shoulder and yanked it out in defiance.
The Draknoir warriors snarled and raised their swords, ready to pounce on him. Silas gripped his sword tight in his right hand, and with his left he searched for a smooth, iridescent pebble inside his belt pouch. He clutched the pebble in his hand and whispered the words, "qui cum coram caeco." He then threw the stone near the Draknoirs' feet. A bright flash engulfed the unsuspecting fiends, and they shrieked in horror, blinded by the light before them.
Silas ran through the night, toward the faint sound of rushing water from the Feilon. The angry cries of the Draknoir filled the air as they realized what had transpired. He heard them running behind him and felt their arrows fly all around. His heart beat rapidly through the trek downhill to the banks of the river. A thick fog suddenly surrounded him, shielding him from the sight of his pursuers. He glanced back, seeing only fog, but hearing the war cries close behind.
When his legs began to tire, he heard the rushing waters of the Feilon less than a yard ahead of him. A few feet further he saw the glimmering moonlight on the water at the bank's edge. He stopped abruptly on the bank and sheathed his sword. The current was too strong to allow him passage to the other side. Nergoth's blood! What now, Asher, old friend?
The Draknoir were approaching fast, and he did not have time to think. He sighed deeply.
"Yéwa, protect me," Silas cried before he dove into the murky waters of the Feilon River.
Cold, rushing water overtook him as he plummeted to the river bottom. He fought the current and rose to the surface. He gasped for air while the river pushed him westward to the roaring waters of the Dulan. At the bank where he dove, the Draknoir warriors watched him float away and cursed at him in their black tongue. The longbow archers began to shoot their arrows at him, but he was out of range.
Before Silas could allow the thought of victory to enter his mind, he felt the rage of the river's current pull him under. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs to ascend once more. Within moments, he resurfaced and realized he had reached the fierce river rapids of the Feilon. Black rocks jutted from the surface of the river and around each bend. His body was hurled to and fro on several quick drops as the Feilon narrowed within a gorge. By some miracle, he was able to keep his head above the water and fight the weariness in his body. Every muscle in his arms and legs ached in agony with each stroke to avoid drowning in the dark waters. Before he could reach the end of the river's torrents, another drop sent him freefalling beneath the water, and his head smacked a stone underwater. Pain swelled from his forehead, and a cloud of blood formed in the water. He fought to stay conscious, flapping his arms to reach the surface again. Humid air entered his nostrils as his injured head rose above the water. The river current had slowed, and he swam toward the bank, feeling nausea and pain ripple throughout his body.
Must stay awake ... please stay awake. He reached for the edge of the bank—half of his body still floating in the water. The moon shone on the bank, revealing the many scrapes and cuts on his arms and face from the fury of the Feilon. He clawed the dirt, pulling himself towards the grassy knoll beside the river. But before he could feel the tufts of grass at his fingertips, his entire body went numb and darkness swirled all around him.
SEVEN
A New Dawn in Sylvania
The sun rose on the green fields outside of Verdania, ushering in a new day to young Lucius and his elven brother, Siegfried. The elf had been awake an hour before the dawn, plotting the best course to take on their way to Sylvania. Meanwhile, Lucius lay asleep beside a smoldered campfire wrapped in a wool blanket.
"Lucius," Siegfried shook him, "it is time for us to head on."
Lucius rubbed his eyes with his hands and yawned loudly, "Already? The sun has just risen. Don't you elves believe in a good night's sleep?"
"Why yes of course. But the sun beckons for us to wake and begin our journey. Come now, get up." Siegfried pulled the wool blanket off of him, stuffing it inside his brother's pack.
Lucius groaned as he sat up, "Fine, I'm awake. But now you have the honor of feeding me."
"Fair enough." Siegfried pulled something from his pouch and handed it to him. "I picked these while you snored on like a mountain bear."
"Berries?" He furrowed his brow. "Is this all? This is a poor substitute for what I would qualify as breakfast."
"They are Marsolan berries, easily capable of filling an ogre's stomach, even one as hungry as you," he remarked snidely.
"Very funny." Lucius crammed the berries in his mouth as he stood up. They tasted incredibly sweet, and he found himself quite satiated after swallowing them.
"Ha! You were right; these are filling," he said.
Siegfried smiled delightedly.
"So, which way is the fastest to Sylvania." Lucius looked to the east.
"The Barren Road is the fastest way to Sylvania. It heads eastward to Sylvania and splits off to Jun-Jun Pass in the north and Joppa to the south. If we head out now, we can make it to Sylvania before the noontime." The tall elf began to walk.
"Off we go, then." Lucius grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder.
The walk to the Barren Road was a brisk one. Siegfried always managed to keep a faster pace than Lucius and occasionally would break into short sprints, to his disdain. They reached the road before the sun was directly above them. The Barren Road was no more than a flattened dirt road, which stuck out in the green landscape all about them. Lucius noticed the wagon wheel trails embedded in the dirt and wondered if they would run into any wayward travelers like themselves on the way. A warm breeze began to blow his messy hair from his eyes and until then, he hadn't noticed how hot it was outside. It was summer after all, but in Verdania, the temperature always seemed just right, even in the winter. Never t
oo warm or cold, he thought. But out here in the open country, he felt the perspiration on his brow and the heat of the sun upon him.
In about four hours, they had covered nearly twenty miles on foot. It was a silent walk for the most part, a few remarks here and there about the landscape or a short conversation on what they would do once they reached the city. Never anything deeper than the present matters, but Lucius had become accustomed to it while living amongst the elves. They were a quiet people, always introspective and calm. Many times he wished he could be the same, but he wanted to talk about his dreams and his fears. Helmer was the only elf who he had ever talked to about such things, but even he could not relate fully to his experiences since he was not a man. As much as he loved his adoptive elven family and his home in Evingrad, he longed to be with his own kind. I must know my people ... my true family. He wondered if he would ever meet his father or mother on this quest. Could they still be alive or had they fallen by the sword of Draknoir hunters? He tried not to think too much on it, but Helmer's revelations in his study had left him longing for answers.
"Look, Lucius," Siegfried interrupted his thoughts, "the city of Sylvania is within sight."
Lucius looked to the east at the faraway city of Sylvania. He could make out thatched roofs and billows of smoke coming from chimney tops. A wooden fence surrounded the small city that housed brick towers with guards sitting inside. The gateway to the city was wide open, but would no doubt close before evening.
"I hope they have some decent food; I'm famished." Lucius quickened his pace on the road.
"I'm sure their accommodations will be suitable for the both of us," Siegfried replied.
The two travelers reached the fork in the Barren Road, which split three ways: north, south, and eastward towards the city. Lucius instinctively looked to his right and left, searching for others traveling on the road, but saw none. His eyes also searched the landscape to the North. The green hills and fields continued on for miles, but beyond them, towards Jun-Jun Pass, he thought he saw a gray line on the horizon. A slight shiver ran up his spine with an uneasiness he could not shake. Siegfried felt his brother's tension and asked about it. Lucius assured him everything was fine, convincing himself it was nothing.
When they reached the gate of Sylvania, two guards patrolling each side of the gateway walked up to them. They wore heavy armor with broadswords sheathed at their sides. Bronze helmets with several dents and stains adorned both of their heads, looking rather inadequate to shield them from a blow to the skull.
"What business do you have in Sylvania?" the heavyset guard asked.
Lucius quickly tried to think of an answer, but Siegfried spoke before he could say a word.
"We are merely here for food and lodging, kind sir. Our travels have made us weary, and we are in need of rest," he bowed his head slightly.
Lucius forced back a smile, "Indeed."
The guard squinted his eyes and glanced at his younger and thinner partner who eyed them suspiciously.
"Where have you come from, my lords?" the younger guard asked.
"From Verdania. We made flight only a night ago," Lucius replied with slight annoyance.
"Verdania?" The older one looked perplexed and apprehensive. "Not a soul has come from that land to Sylvania in many years. The D'aryan elves are a secluded people. They've no desire to leave their elven sanctuaries for the likes of this place. Now stop telling lies and tell us where you're from."
"We have no reason to lie," Lucius cried. "We do hail from the realm of the D'aryan elves and would appreciate it kindly if you would let us pass."
"Let you pass?" The bigger guard placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "We've had a great deal of trouble in this city in the days past, mostly due to wary travelers like you. Why, just two nights ago old Ren was robbed blind while he was away at the Crimson Eagle drinking a pint. All his wife's jewelry was taken, along with his pack mule, Ethyl. The thief has yet to be caught, but many believe it was an outsider that did it. I happen to believe the same, so you can understand my reluctance to let you in, friends."
"I assure you that we aren't thieves or troublemakers," Siegfried said calmly. "My friend speaks truth about where we come from. But if this is a matter of trust, we would gladly leave our weapons and belongings here with you."
"What?" Lucius failed to see his logic.
Siegfried winked an eye at him.
"Actually, that sounds like a great idea," the younger guard smirked.
"Hand over your weapons and belongings and we'll let you in," the older guard said.
Siegfried took off his quiver from his back and his bow, setting them down at the guards' feet. Lucius sighed and did the same. They both also left their swords and backpacks at the gate. Both of the guards grinned and gestured toward the entrance to Sylvania.
"Enjoy your stay, friends. You may pick up your personal items when you leave this fine settlement." The heavyset guard gave their belongings to the younger guard who scampered off into the city.
"I'll be expecting our belongings to be back in perfect condition, sir," Lucius glared at the guard.
"No need to worry, young lad. Clay is making sure of that as we speak."
"Come," Siegfried motioned for Lucius to follow him into the city.
Lucius looked back at the guard, who simply grinned and tipped his helmet at him.
"Why do I have the feeling that we won't be getting our things back?" he said.
"Don't worry about it, Lucius. Our belongings will be kept safe while we accomplish the task at hand. We won't need weapons within these walls, trust me."
"You aren't the least bit worried that one of those insolent guards will sell your bow? It's made of an exquisite wood and was given to you by your father and by his father before him. Generations of Silverharts have held that bow, Siegfried, and now some Sylvania brute might be selling it to buy a round of beers."
"Are you quite finished?" Siegfried raised a brow. "The bow is an heirloom, and it shall be returned, I assure you, either by Clay, the guardsman, or by my own intervention. Right now, we must find a place to rest and something to eat. You are still famished, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. I could really use some fresh bread or a pint of ginger tea." He had forgotten the growls coming from his stomach.
"Well, then, let us find a suitable place to whet your appetite, brother," Siegfried smiled.
At first glance, the city looked nothing more than a big village when compared to a city as grand as Evingrad with its great spire, marble buildings, and elegant effigies. But there was a warmth in the straw-roofed, brick houses and cobblestone paths of Sylvania that Evingrad lacked. It's so ... human. There was no elegance in the worn clothes or tired expressions of men walking to their homes after a long day's work. Neither were the young children walking upright nor minding their manners as they chased stray chickens in the streets with jubilant faces. The differences between the D'aryan elves and the race of men were very distinct to Lucius as he carefully observed the townsfolk. All his life he had felt like an outsider among the elves, trying as best as he could to be their equal and earn their trust. Helmer and Siegfried had done their best to help him be of like mind, teaching him their ways and accepting him as one of their own. But even they realized he was a man—an emotional creature who perhaps was incapable of becoming as peaceful or wise as they.
His lack of communion with the elf spirit, D'arya, also kept him from understanding the sacred way of life exclusive to the elves. However, upon learning of Yéwa, he no longer felt alone in the world. This human God was the maker of his kind and someone—according to Helmer—who would help him on this quest, but when or how Yéwa would do so was unknown to Helmer, and even less to Lucius.
Siegfried searched the city for an inn while Lucius followed and surveyed the sights around him. They walked into a bustling marketplace before reaching the center of the city. A blacksmith's tent was set up on their left, and they heard the steel clang of a hammer beatin
g on an anvil. To their right, was the pub known as the Crimson Eagle, from which the sweet smell of ale and beer wafted into their nostrils. Ambitious vendors selling food, trinkets, and various fabrics called out to them from their stands and parked wagons, hoping to make some money. Siegfried politely refused each of the vendors while Lucius looked at the items thoughtfully and, after a scowl from his brother, also refused.
A few feet outside the marketplace they came to Sylvania's center square where two statues stood: an elf holding the D'aryan standard and a man holding a shield with the crest of Aldron. Around the square stood two-story buildings serving as homes and businesses for residents of the city. Lucius surveyed each of the structures but could not find any that offered lodging. They walked around the square and eventually followed the city's main road up a steep hill where a few more buildings overlooked the town square. Among the buildings assembled on the hill, there was an inn with a wooden sign above the door bearing the words, "Griffin's Head." The wooden door had a burnt etching of a griffin with its wings outspread.
"It looks like a comfortable place to spend the evening, wouldn't you say?" Lucius looked over at Siegfried, trying to read the elf's expressionless face.
"I think it should be suitable for the both of us." He walked up the stone steps to the door of the inn and opened it.
Lucius sighed and followed him inside. It seemed as though he was always following his brother into the unknown, and he hoped it would not be a common occurrence on this journey. This was the first time in Lucius' life where he felt as though he should take the lead. He was the reason they had left Breninmaur, and it was his dreams about the Black Dragon that were intertwined with the future of Azuleah, not Siegfried's. Lucius knew Siegfried was just following their father's instructions by taking charge, but perhaps there was some way to take the lead without being forceful or offending his older brother.
The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 7
