The Harrowing Path

by Cleave Bourbon

  “What is it?” Kelle asked, noticing his faraway gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” Devyn replied, deciding to leave the subject alone long enough to give her time to think it out. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  Ianthill appeared behind them. “Devyn; I have been looking for you all over the ship.”

  “Well, the ship isn’t that big, Ianthill.”

  “Ah, you are so right,” Ianthill regarded Kelle. “How ever do you put up with him?”

  “He makes me laugh. Not that he’s particularly funny on purpose, but the fact that he doesn’t know he’s funny is what I love about him.” She kissed Devyn lightly on the cheek. “I will leave you two to your business and go find Lady Shey and Enowene,” she said, then disappeared down into the hold.

  Ianthill leaned farther against the wooden railing to observe Rennon fishing. “He caught supper yet?” Ianthill asked, producing his long-stemmed pipe from beneath his robes and stuffing the bowl full of tabac.

  “I have not seen any fish yet, but I suspect he will catch a few before the hour rolls around.”

  Ianthill eyed the sky suspiciously. “If the weather holds, he should have plenty of time.”

  Devyn nodded.

  “Is there anything you wish to tell me?” Ianthill asked, still stuffing the pipe.

  “What do you mean?” Devyn replied.

  “About you and Kelle,” Ianthill said, pointing the stem of the pipe to the direction Kelle had gone before.

  “No, not particularly. Why do you ask?”

  “I am no fool, you know. I have been around for some time. You two have been back and forth since we left.” He stared out into the sea. “Something weighs heavy on her mind, and yours too, I think.” He put the unlit pipe to his mouth and puffed a few hard tugs. The pipe lit even though he put no visible flame to it. “You know, I once loved one such as Kelle.”

  Devyn was stunned. “You?”

  Ianthill grinned. “I am old, my lad, but not dead.” He puffed white smoke into the air. “This girl I fell in love with was a beauty. She was tall and thin, with eyes of greenish-yellow and hair of gold.”

  “Was she from Arillia?” Devyn asked.

  “Nay, she was Sylvan. Have you ever seen a Sylvan elf?”

  “No, I have seen Arillian and Darovan, but never Sylvan. I did read once that they never leave their forest.”

  “Oh, they leave the forest, but not without good cause,” Ianthill said in between puffs. His mind seemed to wander for a moment before he spoke again. “Sylvan elves have olive skin, you know, not as fair as the Arillian.”

  Devyn knew of the elves’ long life span. “Does your Sylvan elf maiden still reside in the forest? In the Great Sythian Forest, I mean.”

  “Aye, I expect she does. She has long since married before you go getting any ideas, but we will most likely see her. In a few days, we will dock at Crystalmill, the village at the edge of the forest, and from there we will travel to the city of Endil known in common tongue as Foreshome. The dock lies on the very outskirts of the Great Sythian Forest, and the journey to Endil will be long.”

  “Did you have something specific you wanted to discuss with me, Ianthill,” Devyn asked, “or have you come to discuss long lost loves?”

  Ianthill sighed. “Gondrial tells me you and Kelle are very close.”

  “Aye, that is true.”

  “How close, Devyn? Would I be safe to say you plan to ask her hand in marriage?”

  Devyn’s surprise was apparent. “Did Kelle say something to you about it?”

  “Oh no, lad, it’s just a guess.”

  Devyn looked at Ianthill apprehensively. “What is this all about?”

  “I would urge you to curb your affections for Kelle for the time being.”

  “It is too late, Ianthill, I have already asked her.”

  Ianthill puffed his pipe. “What was her answer then?”

  Devyn lowered his head. “She has not given it to me yet.”

  “Then it is beginning,” Ianthill whispered, and Devyn was unsure of whether he was supposed to hear him.

  “You are making me nervous, Ianthill. What are you not telling me?”

  Ianthill shifted his weight against the rail, searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say. “You have a great destiny. I can’t tell you much about it at present, because I don’t know everything about it myself yet, but I know you do.”

  Is it because I am a descendant of nobility from Ardenia?

  “You know about that already do you. That’s good, but it’s not the whole picture. There is a seed of the prophecy in Asheth’s Grimoire, even the counterfeit copy, that talks about a son of the Jagged Mountains taking in all the souls of all the men before him to defeat the greatest evil.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I am afraid that no one knows for certain. The theory is that this person will have all the souls of man behind him, backing him up to help defeat evil, but it’s only a theory. The book also says something about this person being good nor evil, but again, after one thousand years, no one understands the book’s meaning. When we get the real tome, I want you to look at it. Many of the magic tomes of the world are only readable and decipherable by the person intended to read it. If that’s you, it may speak to you where it doesn’t to others.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Ianthill puffed his pipe. “Now, back to my original line of inquiry, I just cannot see Kelle as an integral part of your destiny.”

  Devyn huffed. “Destiny! Destiny is what you make of it. What destiny are you talking about? A few words in a dusty old tome doesn’t speak to my destiny any more than it does Vesperin’s or Rennon’s. You speak of a tome that no one understands, and you have no idea of whether it refers to me or not, and let me be honest, I think not. I will marry Kelle if I choose and no silly superstition will dissuade me.”

  Ianthill puffed his pipe once more. “You have great potential within you; all I ask is that you don’t deny it to yourself. You have the ability to harness the essence of the land if only you would accept it.”

  “What are you suggesting, Ianthill? That I become a wielder?” He pounded his fist on the wooden railing, allowing his bottled-up emotions to surface. “I will never take the path of a wielder over a life with Kelle.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were false. He had secretly been fascinated with wielding all of his life. He was just too afraid to admit it to anyone.

  After a long, uncomfortable silence, Ianthill spoke. “Go and do as you will, Devyn, but you cannot deny your destiny. Sooner or later, it will have its way with you,” he said, puffing on his pipe. He gave Devyn a cold stare and then backed away toward the hold.

  “Crazy old elf,” Devyn mumbled to himself, “trying to get me into trouble.” Devyn looked at the coastline again and noticed the ship was coming in closer to shore. Ahead he could see a city and the masts and sails of ships in port. He saw that a crewmember was preparing the mooring ropes nearby.

  “What city is this?” Devyn asked him.

  The crewmember looked up. “That be Port Arovan. I s’pect we’ll be stopping there.”

  “We’re putting into port then?”

  “Aye, I just told you so. We always sail into Port Arovan and exchange cargos. We’ll be here a day or two.”

  “Thank you,” Devyn said to the sailor.

  Devyn went to talk to Rennon as he wound his fishing line. “I suppose the fishing will have to wait.”

  “What city is this?” Rennon asked.

  “Port Arovan, I am told.”

  “Still part of Adracoria?”

  “As far as I know, it is. The maps I have seen put part of the Great Sythian Forest in the upper western corner of Adracoria.”

  “Ah, this must be the last port before the forest then.”

  Devyn nodded, “before we depart at Crystalmill, just outside the forest, according to Ianthill.”

  Gond
rial met with the two boys on deck. “The crew tells me we will be in Port Arovan until at least tomorrow, maybe longer. What say we go to Yew’s Tavern and sample the ales? Yew’s has ales imported from all over the world. I have tried several of them but I have yet to try them all.” He reflected for a moment. “In fact, in all the years I have visited this port. I have only sampled maybe half.”

  “I am up for some time off ship,” Rennon was excited to say.

  “I’d wager Vesperin would be up for it too. Solid ground will do him good,” Devyn said.

  “I told him we were putting into dock, and he said he would be on deck shortly,” Gondrial told them.

  “And here I am,” Vesperin said as he joined the others.

  “How are you feeling now?” Rennon asked.

  “Better than yesterday. I would very much like to get off this ship for a time,” he said, and then he addressed Gondrial, “although I don’t feel much like having ale, sorry my friend.”

  Gondrial patted him on the back and laughed. “I understand, Vesperin, but you will come with us, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will.” Vesperin grinned.

  The Sea Goddess slowly entered a berth, and Devyn could feel the anticipation of standing on solid ground grow within him. As soon as the mooring ropes were secure, the three boys and Gondrial departed, only stopping long enough to tell Ianthill they would be back sometime after dark.

  AS THE BOYS LEFT IANTHILL’S sight, Enowene scowled at him disapprovingly. “Are you going to let them go carousing with Gondrial like that, Master Ianthill?”

  “What choice do I have, Enowene? The boys are becoming men, and I believe they should enjoy themselves while they still can. The times ahead will afford them no such luxuries.” He sighed and took Enowene by the hand. “How about a nice home cooked supper at the inn, eh?”

  “I thought you would never ask,” Enowene stated with a smile.

  Ianthill held his arm out and she took it, and they both walked off the ship onto the dock. Enowene abruptly stopped. “We should bring along Kelle and Lady Shey as well.”

  “Aye, I think we should go fetch them.”

  Enowene and Ianthill walked rapidly back onto the ship for Kelle and Lady Shey. They found Kelle in her cabin with Bren. The two of them were talking while polishing their dragon scale armor. Enowene’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “There you are, Kelle. Ianthill and I are going to the inn for supper. Would you and Bren like to join us?”

  “Thank you for your invitation, but Bren and I have made plans.” She blushed slightly and Enowene lifted an eyebrow.

  “Uh huh, I see. Come along, Kelle, I think you had better join me tonight.” Kelle hesitated. “Now, my dear,” Enowene said sternly.

  “As you wish, my lady,” Kelle obeyed.

  “I mean no harm to the young lady, er- my lady,” Bren said.

  “No, of course not,” Enowene said. “Nevertheless, I will take Kelle along with me anyway. I am sure you understand, broodlord.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Bren said, standing and bowing respectfully.

  “Come along, Kelle,” Enowene commanded, and Kelle obeyed. “We will look for Lady Shey.” Kelle stumbled, and the small green statuette Devyn had given her in Cedar Falls tumbled to the deck with a thud.

  “Oh no,” Kelle said, scooping up the statuette. “I hope it didn’t break.” She scrutinized it.

  “It appears to be unharmed,” Bren said.

  Enowene looked at the statue in Kelle’s hand. “Where did you say you got that?”

  “Devyn gave it to me when we traveled through Cedar Falls. Why do you ask?”

  “I remember Lady Shey having a statuette like that one when she was very young. Her mother had given it to her as I recall. May I hold it?”

  Kelle handed the statuette to Enowene.

  “Ah, I do believe it is made from an essence stone, a Nolminae Alaenore.”

  “What is an essence stone?” Kelle asked.

  “In days of old, essence stones were used to store power to draw on in areas where there was not sufficient essence to wield, such as The Blight is now. It could also be used to house a person’s essence, but the ability to use it in this manner has been lost.” She handed the statuette back to Kelle. “It was common practice to sculpt the stones into objects more pleasing to the eye than a lump of stone or crystal.”

  “Do you have one, Enowene?” Kelle asked.

  “Heavens no, they are scarce and expensive. In fact, I would wager that the person who sold that statuette to Devyn had no idea what it was.”

  Kelle put the statuette back into the front pocket of her dress, pleased that Devyn had given her such a precious gift.

  Lady Shey was strolling out on deck when Enowene, Ianthill, and Kelle found her. She happily agreed to come to supper.

  The three women and Ianthill left the ship.

  Enowene cocked an eyebrow. “Bren was about to make a dragon knight out of young Kelle here. I suggested she come with us instead.” She told Lady Shey.

  “Really?” Lady Shey said inquiringly. “How was he to accomplish that aboard ship?”

  Enowene cleared her throat loudly.

  “Oh, I see. Is that...uh...is that how it is then?” Lady Shey stammered.

  “No, it was most certainly not that!” Kelle interrupted. “I am not so foolish a girl as to not know what you two are implying. Bren was a complete gentleman the whole time. We talked of the armor and that is all.”

  “Okay, dear, just be sure and not talk of the armor with him anymore without supervision,” Enowene insisted.

  “I am not a helpless kitchen maid,” Kelle said, frustrated with Enowene’s tone.

  “Of course not, my dear,” Enowene said.

  Ianthill rolled his eyes and looked for the nearest inn, any inn he could find.

  Chapter 18: Dragon Knight

  Yew’s Tavern’s location put it not far from the docks, which meant it was a sailor’s tavern. Devyn was a bit uneasy about being around such a rough crowd. His own experience with the crew of The Sea Goddess told him they were probably a friendly bunch prone to pranks and humorous endeavors. The captain of The Sea Goddess was a well-loved man that treated his crew more fairly than most, but some of the sailors did not have such a cheerful disposition.

  A tall, stout-looking woman with dirty blonde hair and a thick cigar in her mouth approached the table the four men had occupied. “What will it be gents?”

  “I think we will splurge this night and purchase four Lux Amarou Stout ales please.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up. “Coming up.”

  “What was that look she gave us for?” Devyn asked Gondrial.

  “The men of Lux Amarou hold the record for the thickest, stoutest ale. The men there believe that if it is thick and disgusting enough, no one will want to drink it and therefore wean himself off the drink. The problem is that it is the most imported ale in the world, and it is costly because it is not brewed in large amounts.”

  “Why don’t they make more of it and turn a tidy profit?” Rennon asked.

  “The men from Lux Amarou think that it would be contributing to the evil ways of man, dwarf, and elf if they turn a profit from it. In other words, they would consider it ill-gotten wealth. The actual reason is that there are not enough men left on the haunted island to produce anymore.”

  “Four Lux Amarou Stouts,” The blonde-haired woman said, putting pint-sized tankards in front of them.

  Devyn picked up his tankard as Gondrial paid the woman. To Devyn’s nose, it smelled like the grease the sailors used on The Sea Goddess. “Ack, this smells disgusting.”

  “Naturally. It is stout ale, you know.” Gondrial turned his tankard up and drank the thick fluid down. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” Gondrial’s face contorted, and he closed one eye as he swallowed.

  Devyn was surprised to see Vesperin turn his tankard bottom up and even more shocked when Rennon drank his.

  “Not bad,” Vesperin said to Rennon. “
Not at all,” Rennon replied.

  All three sets of eyes were on Devyn as he raised his tankard. He turned it up, letting the thick liquid slide down his throat without tasting it. The ale had a viscous quality. The alcohol burned slightly. The oily fluid washed down, leaving only a slightly bitter aftertaste.

  “Careful, Devyn, that ale is called stout for a reason; it will hit you all at once,” Gondrial cautioned as he promptly ordered another round with a smile.

  “Make it five ales,” Bren said to the inn mistress as he pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat in it next to Devyn. “Hello, lads. Mind if I invite myself to your outing?”

  “Not at all, broodlord,” Devyn replied. Devyn noticed that the dragon knight did not wear his armor but instead he was wearing a red and black leather tunic, breeches, and a tabard with a dragon inlay pull over. A medallion of a wounded drake being tended to by a man hung around his neck.

  “I thought dragon knights abstained from drinking and tavern going.” Gondrial said.

  “No, that is a myth, I am afraid. Dragon ale would make Lux Amarou Stout look like a pale amber.”

  “I thought it was against the wishes of the dragon masters you worship,” Vesperin said.

  Bren sniffed loudly. “We do not worship our dragons. We revere them, serve them as beings of ancient power and respect. They are friends and mentors. Someday you will meet them, and then it will all become clear.”

  “Meet the dragons; I would not be so bold to think I will ever meet the dragons,” Rennon stated.

  “Be careful, young Rennon. Some dragons turn up where you least expect them.” Vesperin chuckled.

  Rennon shook his head and tried to sip the rest of the ale from his empty tankard.

  “If you don’t worship dragons, why did you become a dragon knight?” Devyn asked.

  Bren lifted his medallion and pointed to the man tending to the wounded dragon. “This medallion explains it all. It means a life for a life. The very first dragon knight dedicated his life to the dragon called Amadyre because she sacrificed her unborn drakeling in order to save his life. He declared that his life now belonged to her. A life for a life. Dragons only give birth about once every one hundred years or so. After a time, Amadyre gave the knight longer life and taught him the magic of the dragons. Soon many dragons recruited men, dwarves, elves, and even Scarovs.”