by David Ekrut
Bain, Elwin wanted to say. My father.
“I don’t know,” Elwin said, instead. “And I am not sure I really care. Whatever happened, she left me, Feffer. But one thing that I do know is that family is more than blood. My parents, Poppe and Momme. And you are my family.”
Feffer nodded, “Family is more than blood.”
The wagon rolled to a stop.
“Finally.” Feffer stood up, ducking not to hit his head. “Da will probably be at the ledgers in front of the shop. He rarely joins the festival until two past noon. Save a spot for me by the fire.”
“I will,” Elwin said, “and a crown cake.”
His parents had stopped the wagon just in front of the inn. Feffer hopped from the back of the wagon and ran across the square toward his father’s shop.
The rain lessened enough for Elwin to make out a tall, covered wagon on the other side of the square. Asalla? Of course, he came every year.
He stepped down from the wagon and moved toward it.
“I am going to need help with the pastries,” his mother said. She stood at the front of the wagon. The hood of her cloak shielded her hair and face from the rain. His father was hitching the horses to a post.
“Can I see Asalla first?”
She raised a soft hand to his cheek and smiled. “Go. Your father and I can handle the pastries.”
He hugged his mother. “I’ll see you inside.”
The wind increased, and the rain fell harder. Elwin ran across the empty square. Once he saw the book on the side of the wagon, he smiled. As Elwin got closer, he could see a leather awning covering the steps on the back of the wagon. A curtain of water flowed around it.
“Come in, Elwin.”
Elwin paused at the first step. “How did you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess. Come in. Come in.”
Elwin shook his head and entered. This was the first time he had ever actually been inside the wagon. The air was musky. Books lined the shelves on either side with parchments poking out at odd angles. Elwin felt very aware of how wet he was and feared moving. Asalla would likely not appreciate any moisture getting on his books.
Toward the front was a wooden desk with a chair pulled out in front of it. Asalla sat in the chair, facing Elwin.
“Hello Elwin,” Asalla smiled. “Have you enjoyed the book I gave you last year?”
“I haven’t read any of it. I have been training in Justice and accidentally left the book behind.” Elwin studied the old man’s face with great care. If he was surprised, Elwin couldn’t tell.
Asalla’s lips thinned into a smile. “There was a time when there were Words of Power. Words when spoken, commanded the Elements much in the way others command them without words. A time long gone, yet soon to come again.”
“I’ve heard of them in my training,” Elwin said. “How do you know they’ll come again? The prophecies?”
A sudden hope rose in Elwin. Maybe Asalla would tell him what these prophecies really meant.
“I know a great many things, Elwin. The book I gave you speaks of these Words. They will help you on your quest.”
“What quest?”
Asalla leaned closer to Elwin. “The time will come soon when you will leave this place. Your destiny has a greater purpose than even you can imagine. So long as your heart remains pure, there is hope.”
Who in the abyss was this man? Elwin had seen him every year around the Summer Solstice since he was a boy, but he really didn’t know him.
“I already left,” Elwin said slowly. “I am living in the castle, in Justice. I’m an elementalist. Or … will be. Anyway, how do you know all of this? I thought you were a book merchant.”
“Oh young Elwin, your desire for knowledge has always made you my favorite,” Asalla said. “I am a librarian and scholar. I observe the world and chronicle its passing. In studying the past and the present, we may glean the future. As a rock thrown in the air must travel back to the earth, so too does a man follow his destiny. The observer watching the rock in its various stages, can see where the rock may land.”
Elwin nodded, saying “I see,” not really sure that he did.
Asalla stood. “The time has come, Elwin. Your future awaits you, and I must step aside and let the rock fall.”
“Wait,” Elwin said. “Do you have any more books for me? Maybe something on the prophecies.”
Asalla smiled as if he told some great joke. “The prophecies were written by a rambling old man.” Then in a more serious tone he said, “You would do better by reading the book I gave you.”
Elwin tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. “I will.”
“Life will be hard for one such as you,” Asalla said, “but trust your heart and you will fare well. Now, I must be gone soon. This rain will soak an old man to his bones.”
Elwin hugged him. “Thank you for everything. I can’t help but feeling like this is a goodbye.”
Asalla returned his hug. “So long as your heart remains pure, we will meet again.”
“Farewell.” Elwin walked down the steps and through the curtain of water.
He started to leave, but glanced back at the wagon one last time.
It was gone.
“What in the abyss?” Elwin walked over to where it had been. There were no marks where the wagon had been.
He let the rain hit him for several minutes. “Who are you, Asalla?”
Maybe Jasmine would know. Certainly the book merchant had been to the capital.
There was no need to run. Elwin was already soaked to his core. He walked to the back of the inn to enter through the rear door. There was a wooden awning covering the back walkway. He shook out his hair like a dog and wrung water from his silk shirt and trousers, glad Harkin wouldn’t see these. The green of the shirt looked much darker than it had, even after several minutes of wringing his clothes.
“Oh well,” he said. “Nothing can be done about it now.”
He wouldn’t get too much water onto his Momme’s wooden floors. That was a much more immediate danger than dealing with Harkin.
As he approached the door, he heard sounds of merriment rise above the spattering of rain. He stopped as his hand closed around the door handle. He hadn’t stopped to think about how the townspeople would treat him.
Would they remember him for who he was, or would they remember what he had done? Would they see him as the boy they watched grow from a babe, or would they see him as the monster who had killed a man? There was only one way to know for certain.
He opened the door.
Warmth and light greeted him. Laughter and song filled the air. A female voice sang to a harp, and he could hear the pounding of dancing feet. The tune was lively and upbeat. Elwin walked down the hallway, listening to her sing.
“There once was a maiden so fair,
She could dazzle all men with a stare.
Her bodice was as full as her manner,
Making all the gro-o-wn men clamor.
She was never long without a suitor,
But no one had a temper to suit her.
Only one man could best them all,
Sending good knights away at a crawl ... ”
Elwin stopped listening to the words as he left the hallway and entered the large common room. Faron leaned against the wall, tapping his leg and nodding his head to the beat.
“Elwin!” Faron said.
Taken aback at the delight in Faron’s eyes, Elwin missed a step.
Faron caught him and hugged him with his massive arms. “It’s so great to see you!”
“It’s great to see you, too,” Elwin said. “I thought you were in Justice?”
Faron released Elwin from the hug. “I asked the king for leave for the festival to come see my daughter. You are soaked to the bone.”
&nbs
p; “It’s pouring outside,” Elwin explained. “Kaylee didn’t go with you to Justice?”
“I wanted to set a place up for her,” Faron said. “Your Poppe let her stay in a room here and work as a serving wench until I had things ready for her. When I depart, she will come with me.”
“How do you like working for the king?” Elwin asked.
“It’s all I imagined it to be,” Faron said, “and more. When I came here from Alcoa, all those years ago, I had dreamed that I may someday work for the king, but I had always known it was just a dream. The Lifebringer has truly blessed me. I have been chartered to make the thief-catcher blades. They are required to be balanced in pairs. It is quite a challenge to my skills, but it is an honor to serve our great king.”
Elwin smiled. “After we return, I will try to look in on you. I had thought about trying to find you several times, but I wasn’t sure that you wanted to see me after … after last year.”
“Elwin,” Faron’s smile tightened, and he took a quick breath. “Elwin, I know you didn’t mean to kill that boy. Everyone knows. It was just a surprise to everyone. Forget about all this grim talk. This year, enjoy the festival. There are so many new people, a few lasses that might interest you, too. Go on, now. Enjoy the merriment.”
Elwin smiled. “Thanks, Faron.”
He turned from Faron to look for a place by the fire. His parents had not been exaggerating about the number of those displaced by the war. More strangers filled seats and danced with one another than those he knew. The inn was almost bursting with people.
Every barstool was taken, and all the tables had no vacancies, except one next to the stage, by the fire. A man sat there, alone. He had a crystal goblet in front of him with red grape wine in it. Momme only gave the crystal glasses to guests who purchased a bottle of wine. Otherwise, she would serve the wine from wineskins, poured into tin goblets.
The man had long, black hair that had a silky appearance. His face was smooth and pale with a narrow chin and high cheek bones. His black cloak and robes were not a type of cloth Elwin had ever seen. The dark folds in the cloak swallowed the light of the fire. He wore a silver chain with a silver pendant. The charm was two flat hands covering a black stone.
The man sat with his legs crossed, sipping his wine. When their eyes met, the man’s lips smiled, but his eyes were wide. It was not surprise in his eyes. The look was more like a man who had worked all day in the fields without food, only to come home to a dinner of roasted mutton. The man licked his lips and gestured with his wine glass to an empty chair.
Elwin’s feet moved before he was aware that he had made the decision to go over to the man.
“Are you in mourning, sir?” Elwin asked.
“Not anymore,” the man said. His voice had a pleasant tone. “Please. Sit.”
Elwin pulled out the chair across from the man and sat. He could feel the warmth of the fire. Elwin resisted the urge to pull off his boots and dry his feet.
“I am Elwin,” he said.
“My name is Zeth,” the man said. “My household name is Warwin. We are a minor house in the lands of Alcoa.”
“Oh,” Elwin said, “have you been displaced by the war?”
“One might say that,” Zeth said. “I have traveled this world for fifteen years in search of something lost. Many times I had all but given up hope. Many times I had feared that I might fail in my quest. Then, I traveled across the Tranquil Sea to the Island Nations. I had known I was close, because the Father of Shadows had led me here.”
“The Father of Shadows?” Elwin said. “Do you mean—”
“The Father has many names,” Zeth said. “Some lands call him Father of Souls, others the Seeker. Some call him Lord of the Abyss, while others call him the Father of Death. He is all of these things and more. But teaching of His greatness is not my purpose, here. There is another, who is eager to meet you. My liege lord and king has sent me to sequester you.”
Elwin felt his heart drum against his chest and echo in his ears. His breath caught, and he felt lightheaded. This man was sent from Bain. He was a dark savant, the type of man Feffer had told him about. Elwin was sure of it. The man’s words had betrayed as much.
Was this the “quest” Asalla had spoken of? How could he have known?
“You are a dark savant,” Elwin accused. He could think of not else to say. He dared not ask the man of Asalla.
“Black savant,” Zeth said. “There is time for this later. On the morrow, you and I are returning to your father, King Bain Solsec. His grace has long awaited your return.”
“No,” Elwin was surprised at the anger in his voice. “My place is here. Bain is evil.”
His raised voice drew the attention of the surrounding tables. He only recognized people at two of the tables. At one table was a man named Bram and a few of the men from his father’s farm. At another table was Warne the apothecary, Jansen the brewer, and Bryne the carpenter. Danna the candle maker, at the same table was half standing from her chair with her empty wine goblet in hand. The rest of the tables were filled with strangers. Elwin avoided their gazes.
“You speak of matters beyond your comprehension,” Zeth said in a gentle voice. “Your father is making the world ready for the Awakening. Without him, all would be destroyed.”
“Drenen Escari is my father,” Elwin said, then lowering his voice to say, “not Bain Solsec.”
Zeth’s eyes narrowed. His voice was just above a whisper and spoken through gritted teeth. “That mortal peasant is not your father.”
Anger hit Elwin like a fist. “He is my father.”
Zeth reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a metallic chest, the size of a large hand and placed it on the table. Its dark sheen looked as if it had been tempered with coal.
“I will give you a choice,” Zeth said. His voice was calm once more. “You can accompany me out of this inn and travel with me across the Tranquil Sea. I will deliver you to your father, and you will fulfill the destiny you were born to. Though you will not see these insipid people that you surround yourself with again, their pathetic way of life will continue as it has.
“Your father has commanded me to make an example of those who hid you away all these years. If you refuse me, I will make good on that command. If you refuse me, I will destroy all that you hold dear. Then I will take you to your father, anyway.”
He paused for a moment. The corner of Zeth’s mouth turned upward into a pleasant smile, his comeliness a stark contrast to his words.
Elwin opened his essence to Air, letting it fill him. His Poppe had taken the stage by the fire. Elwin hadn’t noticed him until now. A beautiful woman with blond hair played the harp wordlessly behind him. Children surrounded the pair, listening to Poppe’s tale. He could sense his Poppe’s arms moving and feel the Air shifting from his motion. He could see every movement in the room with his mind’s eye.
“I am not going anywhere with you.”
Zeth rose slowly saying, “You have made your decision then?”
“I am not leaving,” Elwin said, “and you cannot make me.”
The whites of the man’s eyes turned black, then he moved with surprising speed. Elwin felt something solid strike his stomach and face in rapid succession. For a moment, he thought he was falling, but darkness filled his vision, pushing his thoughts into oblivion.
Chapter 16
Consequences
Feffer sat up on the bed, not sure how long he had been asleep.
Feffer’s father had not been waiting in the front like he had anticipated, so Feffer had searched for him in the office on the second floor of the warehouse. He had not been there either. Instead of going straight to the festival, Feffer had visited his old room.
The small room was exactly as he had left it. Well, not exactly. His father had tidied his bed and cleaned his clothes, folding them neatly atop the
bed. The window still had the same blue curtains, and the large chest still rested at the foot of his bed.
Feffer had sat on the bed and tried to remember the last time he had been alone.
“A year,” he had said. “I have not been alone since we left.”
He had laid back on the bed. The next thing he knew, he was waking up.
Feffer swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood, rubbing his eyes.
“The Lifebringer curse me for a fool. Why did I ever give up this bed for an old wooden bunk?”
A year ago, he had felt such excitement at the prospect of leaving for the capital. He was going to be a member of the White Hand of Justice. Wilton had called him a naïve fool. He hated to admit it, but Wilton had the right of it.
“I had been a fool,” Feffer said. “But I have changed. I haven’t seen war yet, but I know what war means now.”
Wilton was not the only person he knew who had been sent to the northern islands to fight. He had heard word of ships being sunk by the Elements. Men he had trained with had been swallowed by water and flames. Others had been taken captive or killed outright.
War was not a thing of glory. The songs were not honest. Battles that bards sang of did not give the truth of it.
War meant death.
When he had last seen this room, he was a child. He had the innocence of a child. Wilton had tried to tell him, but he had not believed his brother. He stood from the bed, crossed the room, and looked out the window. He could see the Scented Rose Inn across the square. Hazy light fought to be seen through the rain and barely reached the streets.
He came to the sudden realization that he could have been asleep ten minutes or ten hours. It was still daylight, but the thick rain hid the sun. So, he had no notion of what the hour was.
“Curse me for a thumping fool again! I’m missing the cursed festival!”
As he turned to leave, his window shattered and something solid struck him in the shoulder, knocking him from his feet. Wind pushed billowing clouds of smoke into his room, as a wave of heat hit him in the face.
“What in the abyss?” he coughed.
