Taming the Elements: Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 1 (6 page)

After the cheers and applause died down in his mind, he explained to his invisible patrons, “It is just the most magnificent day of the year. I can remember the day my great-grandfather proposed the idea of hosting the festival here to my father. And now the tradition is mine to uphold.”

Poppe looked across the inn to the small stage next to the cold fireplace. Within two hours’ time this inn would be an audience awaiting his theatrics. Which tale would the children want to hear first? The bridge troll who had kidnapped the princess, or the wizard who had spelled the king into giving up his kingdom?

He took another deep breath. The smell of eggs and ham wafted into his nose.

“And Momme has already started breakfast.”

Poppe ran the front of the house, but he left the kitchen in his wife’s capable hands. She seemed to prefer it that way from his reckoning. He never fancied himself as much of a cook anyhow.

After unlocking the latch to the front door, he peeked out the window. The common-goods shop across the street belonged to his good friend Willem Madrowl. The Madrowl family were among his usual first patrons of the day.

Willem didn’t appear to be about just yet. The Madrowls were usually early to rise, but Willem had preparations of his own to make before the festival.

Poppe did not charge Willem the regular price for breakfast. A man raising two boys on his own. That couldn’t be easy. One being an infant at that.

He had not seen anyone approach the door. When it opened, his heart fluttered, and he took a step backward.

A woman entered carrying a small basket covered with a light blue blanket. It was not uncommon for townsfolk to bring pastries. But it was a bit early for the festival, and Poppe did not know her. A cousin of someone visiting from one of the other villages, perhaps?

Upon first glance, Poppe thought she might have been the fairest woman he had ever seen. Her long, blond hair was healthy and clean. More so, he noticed her blue eyes. Such light eyes were more common in Alcoa than Justice. But hers were a pale blue, rimmed with a deeper color. Over fifty years of receiving travelers, he had never seen their likeness.

The woman wore green silks with a cut not of Justice make. The low V-neckline exposed the top of her milky bosom. Her dark cloak was of a material that he could not determine. It seemed to deflect the light, which made it appear darker. Whatever the material, it was surely expensive.

She had fair skin and a lovely face with high, broad cheekbones and a pointed chin. She was not more than half past her twentieth year, or he was a red-nosed gnome. The nation of Alcoa was across the Tranquil Sea, a quarter year’s journey by the fastest ship. A long way to travel for a small town festival far outside of the capital city.

Maybe she hadn’t come for the festival at all. Relative of Faron maybe? The blacksmith had come from Alcoa. Maybe she had come for him.

Yellow lights filled the space between them, and he felt woozy for a moment.

He blinked and rubbed at his spectacles. They must have taken on a fog. Removing his spectacles, he used his rag to clean them, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t seem to remove his eyes from the stranger’s gaze. Her blue eyes seemed to glow for a moment. That wasn’t right. Brown eyes. The light must of have glinted off her golden orbs, making them look blue.

His skin tingled and his thoughts became difficult to focus. He had been sure the woman had clean blond hair, but it looked faded and tangled now. He replaced his spectacles and realized upon closer inspection, her fine pale silks were reduced to rags, worn from travel. Hadn’t her attire been fine the moment before? No. That made no sense.

Her eyes were both light and weary. The hardships of the stranger were laden in the edges of her weathered face, which she hid behind the cowl of a dark cloak.

Where are your manners?
Poppe chastised himself.
Not the first time you’ve seen a traveler in your inn. You simpleton.

He gave his best smile and greeted his new guest. “Hello, milady. Welcome to the Scented Rose. Would you care for some breakfast this fine morning?”

She took a hesitant step toward the table nearest the door, while shifting the basket from her left to her right hand.

Poppe adjusted his spectacles. He couldn’t say why, but this woman made him nervous. She wasn’t scowling, and she wasn’t an opposing figure by any means. If she was cleaned up, she would have been pretty to look at. Maybe it was the concern in her eyes?

She eased into the seat of the wooden chair and placed the basket at her feet. Staring into the basket as if the mysteries of all time were hidden there, she stammered at almost a whisper, “I … um … don’t have any money. I … I just need to sit here for a moment … if that is alright?”

Her voice was as worn as her gown and her words as tired as her eyes. He suppressed a frown. He would earn plenty of coin over the course of the day from the festival. One plate for a woman in need would not be missed.

He looked at the woman a moment longer before remembering to smile. “That will be just fine young lady. My name is Bruece of house Lanier. But, everyone calls me Poppe. Where uh … Where do you hail from?”

The woman looked up from the basket. The tenderness of her gaze sent chills down Poppe’s spine and warmed him at the same time. His muscles, tense only moments before, felt relaxed.

Why had he been wary? The thought seemed far away.

It was as if some sort of magic took hold of him, but he could not look away from her. He felt a strong desire to protect. Something.
Someone.
The feeling had always been there. He was a father and grandfather after all. But his need felt stronger. Urgent.

A foggy haze filled his vision, and his skin tingled with a cold warmth. The inn faded around him as if in a dream. He could still see her eyes, though that image faded, too.

Solid wooden planks were beneath his face.

Had he fallen asleep?

Poppe opened his eyes. His spectacles had fallen off his face, blurring his vision. But he would know the floor of his inn blindfolded. He sat up and shook his head. Feeling around, he found his spectacles on the floor next to him. He replaced them and looked around the room from a sitting position. The door to his inn was closed again, but the woman had gone. He couldn’t recall her face, but he could almost remember her eyes.

Was she ever even there? Must have been a dream, but why had he fallen to sleep on the floor?

He stood, using the table next to him for support. He hadn’t fallen because nothing hurt, but as he stood, his legs waned. He steadied himself on the nearest table and tried to shake off the groggy feeling. Best not to tell Momme about this. She always did worry over the smallest of things. She might make him sit out the festival. He tried to work up the excitement he had felt before for the upcoming festivities, but an odd feeling washed over him.

Poppe felt an overwhelming desire to protect something. No. Someone. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that someone needed him.

There was a basket near the door.

“There had been a woman, and she left her pastries.” Poppe’s voice sounded as if someone else had spoken. He tried to rub the grogginess from his face.

As he approached the basket, the blanket made a subtle shift. He blinked and shook his head. His eyes were playing tricks on him.

Poppe blinked again as the basket made a strange muffled whine.

“What in the Lifebringer’s name?”

He hesitated, but kneeling down he knew what he would find. Even still, after peeling back the blanket that had been concealing the little one, he couldn’t believe it.

He knew the eyes from somewhere, crystal blue with dark rims. The babe stared up at him, fully alert, but he couldn’t be more than a handful of months old. This child needed to be protected.

“But I am too old to raise another babe.”

There was a rolled up parchment on top of his blankets. Poppe reached for the letter, still wondering when he would wake up from this dream. He read it all the way through before realizing he had been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly.

He put the note aside and looked into the baby’s eyes, which were intent upon Poppe’s face.

“Elwin,” he said. “Your name is Elwin.”

Dear Kind Stranger,

The road that I travel is a long one. One that is not fit for my beloved child to accompany me. There is a kindness in your Spirit telling me that you will give Elwin the love and compassion he needs. The shadows of my past and the sins that lurk there shall not follow him here. I will see to that. The only item I have of value is this pendant that he now wears. Please keep it near him. If you ever tell him of me, please tell him that I loved him too much to stay with him. Tell him that I died so that he could have Life. I thank you for your kindness; there isn’t an abundance of it left in the world.

Signed,

A Weary Traveler

Chapter 2

The Hounds Unleashed

“Betrayal.” The word stuck in his mouth like a bad taste.

Bain walked across the shore, pacing beside the ocean. He made every attempt to calm his mind. Anger, though a well-founded emotion, would not find her. Of all the inevitable betrayals, this was the one that he had known would hurt. The knowledge did nothing to assuage the pain inside.

It was a hurt not physical. It was an illogical, useless feeling. It was a weakness. One that he could not afford if he was going to bring the world to his rule.

“And what of my brother?” he asked the wind. “Is it weakness that allows him to draw breath still?”

His death would deter any others of committing treason, yet he could not bring himself to end Jhona’s life. And how should Zeth be punished? The man had a simple task. Athina should not have been allowed to leave, even if she had help in doing so.

But Zeth would be the best choice to hunt her down.

War is at hand
, Bain thought,
and already my attention is being diverted by incompetence and treachery.

Bain clenched his fist as anger bubbled above his calm but quickly forced his hand to relax when he felt the life force of someone approaching. He had learned that each life had a unique aurora. This life was young and radiant and full of a darker energy, and it belonged to his most loyal, trusted servant.

“I told you that I was not to be disturbed,” Bain said.

“I am sorry, Father.” His young voice was without emotion. His son knew the right words to say, even though he had not felt them.

He faced his son. Donavin favored Bain’s pale skin and wore his long black hair in a warrior’s braid. He even wore the same black leather armor that Bain possessed. But his son’s eyes reminded him of Athina. Donavin wore a scimitar, a curved blade that broadened toward the tip, but it was forged to fit a smaller hand.

“Can I be the one to kill the traitor, Father? I would very much like to kill him.”

“No, son,” Bain said. “
If
he is to die, it will be by my hand alone.”

“If? But father, he has betrayed us,” Donavin’s forehead scrunched, as if confused. “You said that treachery could not be tolerated within a mighty kingdom. Are we not a mighty kingdom?”

Already, his son knew how to twist words to achieve a desired outcome. Maybe Athina had been right. Maybe Bain had ruined Donavin. Time would decide.

“There are exceptions to every rule, my son. A good ruler knows when to take a life and when to allow it to continue. There are reasons to allow the one who trained you to live, other than the fact that he is your brother.”

“But you are more powerful than him now. I do not see how his life is useful any longer.”

“He is the most skilled teacher that I know,” Bain said in a patient voice. “And I am training an army of elementalists to be my savants. If I banish him to live in solitude and give him time to see me rise to power, then perhaps I can sway him to join me in the end.” He spoke more to himself than to his son.

He decided to turn the conversation. “Now, tell me. Why do I expect Ulthgrar, king of the goblins, to sign Alcoa’s treatise of war against me?”

Donavin’s eyes sparkled with his smile. “That is easy, Father. He will use the treaty as a tool for negotiating more power under
your
rule. It is similar to the tactics the Kalicodian Tribal Nation did in the War of the Ascension. During the war, the barbarian tribes of Kalicodon were united by the
saizor
of House Duthikar of the Horned Boar tribe.

“Even united under a single tribe, the barbarians were not powerful enough to oppose the Lizard King—I forget his name—or the king of Alcoa on his own. So the
saizor
pretended to ally with the Lizard King to gain more land for his tribesmen from Alcoa. In the end, he joined with the Alcoan nation to eradicate the Lizard tribes.”

Bain smiled at his son. “Well done. The Lizard tribes were scattered, not eradicated. The Lizard King was Vardwick. That is what humans called him. The language of the Lizardkin is impossible for humans to speak. To my ear it sounds more like high pitched clicking and screeching.”

“I know this Father.” Donavin’s voice had a petulant tone. “What are we going to do next?”

Bain smiled at his son. “You are going to fetch Zeth. There are things he and I need to discuss.”

Donavin’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “Are you going to kill him for his incompetence?”

“No son,” Bain said. “Now, do as you are told.”

His mouth twisted in a downward expression, and he kicked the sand. As he turned to go, his shoulders slumped. His son did not leave in as much of a hurry as when he had arrived. As Donavin walked up the shore toward the castle, Bain turned back to the ocean’s tides. It was only moments until he felt his son’s life force fade from his senses.

Zeth was one of Bain’s most gifted disciples, a master in the Element of fire and earth. He also had a unique Dark Gift that would be useful for hunting any prey. And he had a growing power in the Death Element.

The Elemental power known as Death was half of the Element called Spirit, now divided between Life and Death. As each living being had both darkness and light, so too did the very fabric of Elemental power.

And people often tried to destroy that which they did not understand. The Guardians of Life were such men. Fear-mongering bigots, whose time of oppression would soon come to an end.

He felt Zeth’s life force approaching. It was a beacon of cruelty and ambition. Such men were as useful of a tool as any other, if properly aimed.

Bain turned toward Zeth. Instead of armor, Zeth wore a robe of black cloth that had been touched by the Elements. Items wrought from Elemental power carried many gifts. Such a robe was referred to as hard cloth. It warded the wearer from nature’s heat and cold alike, and it was very difficult to penetrate but provided little protection from blunt weapons.

Bain watched his hound approach. Zeth was of mixed lineage. His Alcoan mother had been raped by a Kalicodon barbarian during a raid. His pale skin and light eyes were his mother’s, but his long black hair had likely come from his father.

Zeth had never met his father. The thought made Bain think of Elwin. Unlike Zeth, Elwin was not a bastard. However, if his son was not found, Elwin would never know his own place in the world. His purpose. Bain did not let the anger rise. Elwin would be found.

Fist to heart, Zeth saluted. “What would you command of me?”

Though his face gave no hint of emotion, Bain knew Zeth only played at being a faithful hound. Submission to anyone was in direct opposition to his nature. He was a predator, and he liked submitting to anyone as much as a fox would to a wolf. Bain imagined Zeth’s temperament had come from his barbarian father.

“Rise. I have the most important of tasks for you.”

Bain let silence hang in the air like a wyvern on the prowl. The beast was a descendant of the mightier dragon. Though smaller and weaker than its kin, its poisonous strike could fell any living creature, even the mighty dragon.

He waited until the discomfort of the silence made sweat bead on Zeth’s forehead. Bain could only imagine what Zeth was thinking under his cold stare. After such a failure, he likely imagined a very grim fate for himself, indeed.

He articulated each word like a whip. “You. Will. Find. My. Son.”

“Yes, my king.” Zeth’s voice shook. Bain was not sure if it was from fear, confusion, or excitement. Perhaps all three.

Bain took a step closer to Zeth. “There is nothing more important than this. If he is harmed in any way, you will be harmed doubly. If he is killed, you will beg for death before your days are finished. But death will not come. Only pain. You will not fail me again. If possible, bring Athina back to me alive as well. But more importantly, you will bring Elwin to me.”

Bain pulled a small object from the folds of his cloak. “I am not disillusioned. I know that it will take some time, but you will find him. And when you do, you will use this on whomever aided in his concealment. I will make an example of those who stand against me.”

Bain held the device out to Zeth atop his palm. An aura of power emanated from the metallic object. To the ungifted eye it was just a hollow box that appeared to have no way of opening. In truth, this was one of a handful of its kind left in the world. Once touched with the Death Element, it was capable of the most amazing of feats.

Zeth’s eyes widened with exasperated euphoria. “A soulkey?”

Zeth attempted to mask his elation as he took the soulkey, but did as well as a street urchin would had a rich merchant given him a fortune. The exultation was clear in his voice. “I will not fail you my lord.”

“No. You will not.” He turned his back to Zeth. “Now, leave me.”

Zeth bowed and saluted fist to heart, then turned on his heel. His life force disappeared with haste as Zeth made his way toward the castle.

Athina had gone west. There was no reason to discuss such details with Zeth. Everyone living in the castle, even the scullery maids, knew which way she had fled. Being gifted in the Elemental power of Air, she had flown, thus there were no tracks to follow. But many had seen her flying west.

The guards had not been given orders to restrict her to the castle. That was Zeth’s task alone. Had he made such an order, word would have gotten back to Athina within an hour. And at the time, he had not been certain whether or not she could be swayed back to him.

She would be found.

Bain felt another spark of life near, bringing him from his reverie. The life had an exuberance like none other. It held mirth and joy that overpowered ambition. He glanced in the direction of the life’s source but could not see her. She was under a veil, then. A veil was created by the Element of Air. It would bend light in such a way to make a person unseen. A very useful talent.

Bain need not lay eyes upon his wife to know this was her life force that neared him. In a patch of thorns, she was a rose. Her forgiving grace was an enemy to logic. The mere thought of her walking up the beach clouded his thoughts with emotion. She was alone. She did not carry the small life in her arms. He forced his hands to remain unclenched and turned his back on the approaching form.

She stopped several paces behind him.

He peered to the ocean for a moment before asking, “Where is my son?”

“Safe.” He could feel the smile in her voice.

The sound was infuriating, but he forced his emotions under control. He would not allow her to use emotions against him. Not this time. He would need reason to find his son. She had only been gone for two months, so he hadn’t left the continent. It would have taken the better part of a year to reach the Island Nations or the Blood Isle and return. But where? He needed some clue.

“Surely you would not be fool enough to hide him with the Chai Tu Naruo? I have agents amongst the Children of Nature, as well as Alcoa.”

“No, my heart, he is not amongst the Chai Tu Naruo. You will not find him.”

He felt his jaw twitch and forced his muscles to relax. He turned to face her. Her long hair hung about her shoulders like he preferred it, and she wore a white dress that clung to her bosom but was loose around her legs. Her wide eyes looked into his, searching.

“Do not call me that,” he said. “You have wounded me more deeply than any sword ever could.”

She took a few steps toward him, and he raised a hand in warning.

Her smile did not fade, but she stopped walking. “Though I wish there could have been another way, you will ever be my heart, my love.”

He knew that she meant every word, and he needed to know. “When did you stop believing in me?”

Her lips tightened and her eyes shown with pity. “When you decided there was no price too high for victory.”

“I will remake the world,” Bain said. “There will be more sacrifices to be made, and I will do what I must. I regret nothing.”

“Do you remember why you began this?” she asked, gesturing to the castle. “I thought that it was to save the world from the Awakening. I thought we were saving gifted children from the Guardians of Life. But it was vengeance all along.”

“This is more than vengeance.” His voice was harsher than he had intended. He took a breath and forced away his emotions. “I will make a stronger world than Alcoa and his fool order. That world will not fear the Awakening. It will embrace it.”

She shook her head. “How will a world in turmoil be better suited to face the dragonkin? How can you believe that a war will make the world stronger?”

He looked into her pleading eyes. She had given him that look many times. They would win him over no longer.

“What would you have me do? Let Alcoa snuff out the spark of power from those gifted?”

“Alcoa made a poor decision in sending us to battle the vampires, but we all survived. And he is not the Guardians of Life. The Guardians have overreached their place for far too long, but that is why we found those gifted and brought them here. To save them from being put to the Inquisition. Not to build an army to seek your vengeance.”

“How can you not see what is so obvious?” he said. “Alcoa has the power to oppose them with the Sacred Order, yet he does nothing! The world will fall if there is not a change. And
I
will bring that change.”