I nod, trying my best to take it all in.
“Fandoor has always been a bit of an outcast, so no one believed him when he said he could speak to the ghost of Saint Connar. He listened to all Connar’s stories and wrote the book in his name. The copy in his shop is the only one in existence. Fandoor tried putting The Writings of Assassination into newer copies of The Seven Saints, but Lord Helwain ripped them all out.”
That explains the copy he gave me. “What does all of this have to do with me?”
He stands from the chair with a smile. “All in due time my lady, all in due time.”
“But I thought you’re supposed to tell me why I'm here?”
“I'm afraid that's all the information I will divulge to you today.” He places his hand back on the brown and gold copy of The Seven Saints, “Here.” He slides the book across the table to me. “I want you to have the real copy. It details the truth about the spell and Akidira. It is not the modified version Helwain has circulating the Realm and the rest of the sanctums.”
With a dizzying head I reach out to grab the book. The edges of the pages are golden. He leaves the library with a simple smile. Well at least I got some answers, but not nearly enough. Drumming my fingers on the end of the table I try to slow my mind from racing. My father, is he ok? What's happening in the Realm? Are pictures of my face plastered over the city? Connar...he said I might see him again if I made it to the fort. So far no sign of him.
Then Thorn appears in my mind. The hooded man had said he was here recovering. I need to find him, maybe he knows something I don't. Taking the book, I stand and leave the cold, vacant library. I'll have to remember to come back and scour the books when I get a moment. If I get a moment. Walking down the hall I find myself overcome by the smell of bread and soup. My stomach growls. Looking down at myself I realize how much weight I've lost since leaving the Realm.
I head down the hall back into the dining room, seated by four other men, all of decent height and build clad in either linens or armor. Each has hair to his nape, all are distracted by their meals. A large fireplace looms to the right. A black iron chandelier hangs above the table shedding brief light and warmth from dripping wax candles. Aside from this, the room is dark. I walk to the kitchen to find a man with an eyepatch and scruffy white beard tending to the food. He wipes his stubby hands along his already dirtied apron and turns the spigot over the fire.
Roast boar, the smell tickles my nostrils and teases my empty stomach. It takes him a moment to notice me. “Oh!” He starts, placing a hand to his chest. “My lady, you startled me. Forgive me I did not see you there.”
I hold up my hand shaking my head warning off his apology. I'm not used to being addressed so formally, especially when I still have no idea why they're doing it.
“I'm just looking for some food, it smells delicious.”
He hurries to the door extending an arm to the table full of men. “Please, have a seat with the others and I will bring you a dish. Fresh bread and pot roast. Mead alright?”
I hold up my hand with a delicate shake of refusal. “Water, if you have it please.”
He wipes his hands with his apron. “Coming right up my lady.”
“Thank you.”
I turn to face the table. No one has noticed me. I walk over and sit next to a man with wavy ginger hair. Light freckles spatter his face.
“Are you new here?” A man with black hair and a sloped nose at the far end of the table asks. I relish being a stranger for a moment longer until the stubby chef brings out my plate, bowing with the words, “My lady,” as he exits.
The man with black hair laughs as the chef exits. “My lady? What, do you run one of the sanctums or something? Taking a vacation to see how the other half lives?”
I shake my head picking up an icicle of a spoon before digging into my steaming hot stew. “Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here.”
A blond man laughs with a grunt, clearing the table of his tray as he stands and leaves. The man with the black hair slides over until he's directly in front of me. “What's your name?”
“Jaria.”
“Banes.” He holds out his hand to shake over the table. The other man stares at us through the corner of his eye. After slurping down the remainder of his stew by picking up the bowl, he belches and exits. I peer down to the end of the table and notice a boy, much younger than the rest of the men. He too has black hair, but a little straighter than Banes. He sits huddled over his soup propped up by one arm. I motion my chin towards him with a whisper, “Who’s that?”
Banes swallows a swig of mead before his mug hits the table, dripping. The sounds startles the boy. He sees us staring at him and turns more toward the fire, covering his face with his left arm. “That, is a boy from the farm outside the city.”
The farm? “You mean the one across from the inn?”
“The very same.”
“I knew a boy there...Tanner. He is looking after my horse.”
Banes rips at his bread, which appears to be stale compared to mine. He dunks it into his stew and replies, “Tanner is his brother.”
I look back down to the boy. He must be even younger than Tanner. Why hadn't Tanner mentioned him? I suppose there was no reason...still, it's curious.
“Why is he here?”
Banes laughs with a shake of his wavy black locks. “You my dear,” his voice thick like velvet, every word perfectly enunciated, “have got a lot to learn about this place.” He leans back with his mead, drinking with a smug grin. I can't take my eyes off the boy. He looks terrified. “I'd start with finding out why you're here.” Banes slams his thick mug down. The boy at the end of the table startles at the sound, standing with his tray full of food and exits, handing his tray back to the kitchen.
“All finished?” I hear the eye-patched chef ask. The boy nods. “You hardly touched it, aren't you hungry?” The boy shakes his head, glancing back at me. I want to say something, but he bolts out of the room as soon as the chef takes his tray.
“What's his story?” I lean in, eyeing the chef.
“Why, are you interested?” Banes smiles at me dunking the last of his stale bread into his stew.
“Interested?” I repeat the question.
A wicked grin crosses his face once more as he breaks into contagious laughter. I find myself kicking him hard under the table. “Ohh. She's a serious one.” He mocks me, finishing his stew. “Well, story is he used to be a part of the pirates of the canyons, out in the Four East Seas.”
“I'd only heard of that in legends. I wasn't even sure it was real.”
He shrugs, wiping his stern scruffy chin clean of mead. “We aren't sure either, but the longer you're here the more the evidence supports it.”
I can recall the tale of the pirates of the canyons like it was yesterday. Sixty years ago they were said to have been the pirates who ruled the seas. They would pillage and steal, selling stolen goods on the black markets. Few people in the Seven Sanctums knew what was beyond the seas. It has always fascinated me, the notion that there could be more out there, even if it is just endless ocean. I've always wanted to know.
“Well, Jaria, was it?” Banes stands with his tray. I notice for the first time a symbol embellished on the chest of his under armor. A sword, facing straight down, with a black dragon curling up and around it with its claws and head perched on the hilt. He notices my gaze and looks down at himself. “Are you not familiar with the symbol of Fort Guarded Dusk?”
I shake my head, studying the symbol.
“Well, as I said, you have much to learn. For that I do not envy you. Your journey will be a difficult one. I just hope you're finally the one.” He walks a few feet to the kitchen, handing his tray to the chef.
“The one?” I ask. He strolls back with a stern look on his face, kneeling down to my eye level at the table. His face is inches from mine. I can smell the mead on his breath.
“I will say this once. Tread carefully here. You do not know the for
ces of which you are now entwined. Do not trust easily.” His darkening brown eyes pour into mine for a moment longer before he lifts himself up, straightening his under armor. As he walks past, he places a firm grip on my shoulder and leaves.
I am alone in the dining hall with a tray full of cooling food. After devouring it I bring the tray back to the chef who is preoccupied cleaning. I stuff it with the others on the counter and disappear before someone else can corner me in conversation. I have to find Thorn. Walking back to the entrance I notice another hall on the opposing side of the entryway. I make my way over, opening a pair of double wooden doors. Inside, I find myself in cavernous heights of training quarters. Sand pits, weapon racks, archery hay stacks, dummies, wooden logs and more fill the space. Aside from the equipment the room is empty. Silent.
I tip-toe to the hall in the back which leads to several more rooms. Making my way down the hall I notice a few men in bandages lying on cots in the rooms. This must be where Thorn is. I find him in the last room lying on a dirtied cot. He is covered in bruises, bandaged heavily at the waist and across one shoulder. I walk over pulling a dingy wooden chair from the corner and sit next to his bed. His eyes are shut and he is shivering. I pull the scratchy blanket from the foot of his bed and drape it over him.
“Thorn,” I shake his bare arm gently. “Thorn, can you hear me?” I shake him a little harder. A soft groan escapes him. “Thorn, its Jaria.” His piercing blue eyes peek up at me. They’re bloodshot.
“Jaria?” He croaks out.
“Yes, I'm here.” I stroke the sweaty strands of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.
“Where...where are we?” His eyes flutter shut.
“We're here Thorn...we made it.”
His eyes open halfway, peering up at me.
“We're at the fort. We made it.” I grab his hand.
A deep breath exhales from his nostrils.
“Thorn, you saved me.”
He smiles, “I am glad.” He offers a weak smile.
“How are you? Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he breathes, “are you?”
“Yes. But we must talk.”
“About?”
“I am not sure what is going on. Everyone keeps calling me 'lady'. Someone told me I'm “the one” and to be careful whom I trust. I don't know what any of it means.”
His eyes close. Deep breathes pull his chest outward and in.
“Thorn?” I squeeze his hand.. “Thorn...”
“I'd leave him be. He needs his rest.”
I turn to find the hooded man behind me. Rage begins to fill me at his intrustion.
“You’re following me?”
He steps into the room, shedding some light from the paraffin lamp onto his darkened face. “I am here to ensure your progress at the fort.”
“Yet you were in the inn with me as well.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re the one who warned me in the alley.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looks to Thorn, who is in a deep sleep. “I had to protect you. Make sure you were safe.”
“I do not require your protection.”
“Yes, so it seems. However, I am still fitted with the task of looking after your progress here.”
“Tell me your name.”
“My name is not important. You may refer to me as 'Keeper' until your progress shows further.”
“Keeper? I am not your slave.”
“Interesting interpretation, for I never stated that you were.”
I stand and exit the room, brushing past him with ferocity, knocking into his side as I pass.
“Thornain will be fine.” Keeper calls from the hall behind me. I continue walking. I pass through the training room and have my palm on the handle of the door when a heavy, gloved hand stops me.
“Leave me alone!” I shout at Keeper, pulling the door open.
He slams it shut. “Listen to me,” he speaks in a different tone, one much more informal than his previous tones. “You are very important. Not just to me, but to everyone in the Seven Sanctums.”
“Yet no one can tell me why.” I growl refusing to look him in the eye.
“I cannot tell you until you have passed your first phase. I ask for your trust.”
Banes voice fills my head with warning. “I do not trust you.” I turn and leave the training room.
As I make my way up the stairs I hear someone sobbing on the second floor. I stop and listen, padding my way through the circling rooms until I find the one the noise is coming from. I peek my head through the doorway to find the boy from the dining hall. Tanner's brother. He sniffles staring at the wall. Before too long he turns, sensing my presence.
“What do you want?” He snarls through tears. His pale skin reddened from crying.
“I'm sorry...I heard someone crying.”
“Yeah? Well now you've seen someone crying. Go away!”
He can't be more than fourteen years of age.
“I know Tanner.” I blurt out. His face changes as he looks back to me.
“T-Tanner? You know him? How?”
“He was looking, is looking, after my horse in the city.”
“How long ago?”
I shrug. “Not more than a week.”
He nods.
I continue, “I know your parents as well, from the inn.”
“My parents? Are they alright?” He scoots to the end of the bed with wide eyes.
“Yes, everyone was alright.”
A smile flashes across his fac. “So,” he wipes his nose with the back of his hand before looking back to me, “are you really the one?”
I sigh stepping further into his room. It has a similar layout to the one I awoke in. Bed, nightstand with lamp, chest, book shelf. My book! I'd left it at the dining table. Just as well, I don't want anything Keeper or his minions could give me anyway.
“I don't know what that's supposed to mean.” I pick at the ends of some unraveling books on his shelf.
“You don't know?” Curiosity and surprise peak in his cracking voice.
“No.”
“Well, I still hope you are.” He picks at his dirty finger nails. “I’m Danny. What’s your name?”
“Jaria. What are you doing here anyway?”
“That’s a cool name. My mom and dad sent me to become a knight.”
“What about Tanner? Isn't he older?”
“Yes, but he already has a job looking after the stables. It is customary in the city to send your second son to the fort.” His sight shifts to the floor. “Most don’t survive the trials.” His voice drops.
“Well, I'm sure you will.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because, you're strong.”
“No, I'm not. I'm weak.” He shuffles his feet.
“Only strong people question their strength. That is proof you are strong.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You really think I'm strong?”
“Yes.”
He leaps up, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you for saying that.” Releasing me he sits back on his bed. “I'm glad you're here. What kind of hore do you have?”
“Chestnut. I’ve only had her a little while.”
“What’s her name?”
“Stallum.”
“Stallum,” Danny repeats to himself with a smile. “I like that name. Tanner will take care of her as if she was his own.”
The thought calms me. I’ve already lost so much, I can’t bear the thought of losing Stallum, too.
Walking back up to my room exhaustion begins to set in. I find the book on my bed. Keeper must have put it there. Wrapping my fingers around it I stare for a moment at the beauty of the cover and the outside edges of the pages, before throwing it to the wall with a slam. I dim the lamp and curl up on top of the sheets. Making a pillow with my hands I face the wall. It took so much for me to get here, and what for? Exhaustion overta
kes me and I slip into sleep.
I'm in the forest of the Realm. Flowers in an array of exploding colors envelop me. My hair is pulled into a long braid that flows behind me as I ride on a horse black as night. My hands trace their way to my sword and unsheathe it. My other hand unhooks a shield from my back. We gallop into the woods with speed and grace. As we burst from the edge of the forest we are met by a blood dragon hovering over endless fields of grass. Mount Kitum resides behind him. His wings beat slow keeping him steady. His claws curl in as we draw closer. I hold my sword outright, shield in front of me.
“Jaria.” The wind whispers my name.
I lean in sharp, clad in armor.
“Jaria!”
The horse runs faster towards the blood dragon.
“Jaria!”
My head whips around at the sound of my name.
I bolt up covered in sweat. I’m still at the fort. Looking around the room I see the book split open on the floor. Walking over to it I pick it up and thumb through the true story of The Seven Saints. It's not until I reach the end that I'm stunned. My lips whisper the words aloud, “Legend has it every three hundred years there will be a new Lady of The Sanctums. Upon her return the Blood Dragons will be born again and any immortality in the Seven Sanctums will fade. Not until the seventh moon of the cycle is her power to emerge. The Lady of the Sanctums will possess the power to both defeat and control Blood Dragons.”
“You’ve read it.” Keeper stands in the doorway.
“Just now.”
“So you know.”
“I know nothing.”
He steps into the light. “We hope you’re her. We have had six other potentials, whom have all failed.”
“Failed at what?”
“Please, come with me.” He extends a gloved hand my direction. I stand, following him around down stairs until we are by the crystal fire pit on the first floor. The rest of the men in the fort stand at attention around the pit. They wear the under armor with the symbol of the dragon twisting around a sword. Flames flicker in their eyes.
The Writings of Assassination: Book One Page 10
