Taming the Elements: Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 1 (9 page)

Elwin blinked. The instinct to run sounded like gongs in his mind. But this was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

“Who are you?” Elwin said, ignoring his fears.

“I am called by many names,” the man said. “I was once called the Son of Life. My enemies have called me by more names than even I know. You may call me by the name given to me by my mother. Abudan”

“Abudan?” Elwin said. “That name sounds familiar.”

“Enough about me,” Abudan said. “Let us talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“This forest for example,” Abudan gestured around him. “Where is it?”

The shadow cleared around Abudan’s face for a moment to reveal eyes of black fog, as if the pupil had consumed all of his eyes. Elwin flinched back from the man’s gaze.

Abudan held up his hands as if calming a frightened calf. “I meant no alarm. I know you are in the Island Nations, but I cannot be sure as to where. You are shielded from me. It is her, I have no doubt. Can you hear her?”

“The singing?” Elwin asked. The urgency hadn’t lessened, but he still couldn’t make out any words.

“Yes,” Abudan said, frowning. “I do not know how she touches my realm, but I am certain you are the root of it.”

“This is the strangest dream I have ever had,” Elwin said.

Abudan’s laugh sent shivers down Elwin’s spine. Again he wanted to flee, but he did not allow his fears to get the better of him. It was just a dream. It was. Whenever he wanted, he could just wake up.

“This is just a dream,” Abudan said. “But it is also more. I am your destiny, Elwin of Solsec. You will be the one to Awaken us.”

“Solsec?” Elwin said. “That is not my name. You have me mistaken for someone else.”

“As I have said,” Abudan said. “Whatever you are called, I would know blood that is mine. Now, where in the Island Nations do you reside?”

Something in Abudan’s tone made Elwin wary. He took a step back, but didn’t seem to move away from Abudan. So, he took another step, a much bigger step, and nothing seemed to happen.

“Shh,” Abudan said and made a calming gesture. “I mean you no harm. Just the opposite. I would like to give you a Gift. You are destined for power, Son of Bain. The world can be yours, if you only accept what is yours by birthright.”

Abudan took a step toward him, and Elwin stepped back on instinct. Despite Elwin’s efforts to get away, Abudan still moved closer.

“There is nothing to fear,” Abudan said. “In the end, you will accept my Gift. Save the lives of those around you and take it now.”

“I am not who you think I am,” Elwin said, backing away. “I’m a farmer. I don’t have any birthright. The land isn’t even ours.”

Abudan’s hand felt like ice on his shoulder. Pain moved through Elwin as the cold began to spread to his arm and chest.

“It can all end,” Abudan said. “Just repeat this simple phrase. ‘I accept your Gift, Abaddon. My soul is yours.’ Then, power over Life will be yours.”

“Abaddon!” Elwin gasped. “You are the Seeker of Souls. Not Abudan. You are the Bringer of Death.”

“Such an ugly name, that,” Abaddon said in a soothing tone. “My gift is warmth. Take my hand and speak the words. Without my warmth, you will surely perish.”

The cold continued to spread. Even his thoughts began to become rigid.

“Wake,” Elwin said. “I want to wake.”

He focused his mind on the comfort of his bed and the warmth of his room.

“This isn’t real,” he heard himself say.

The cold vanished, and he could see himself sleeping in his bed.

For a moment, he felt as if he was staring down at himself. Then, somehow, he and the body became one.

Chapter 4

Summer Solstice

Elwin sat up, feeling strong hands around him. He kicked with all of his might but couldn’t shake loose the grip of those strong hands.

“Elwin, open your eyes.” It was his father’s voice.

Even though the morning’s light spilled into his window, his mother stood in the doorway holding a lantern. Strong arms rubbed warmth back into Elwin’s limbs.

He looked up into his father’s face and saw concern in Drenen’s eyes. “Your skin is cold. The night was not so cold. Do you need another blanket at night?”

“It was so real,” he said, trying not to loose the tears filling his eyes.

Drenen continued to rub warmth back into Elwin’s arms. “It was just a dream, son. You are alright now.”

Elwin buried his head into his father’s chest. No. It had been real. Elwin didn’t cry. Not exactly. When he closed his eyes, tears came out, but it didn’t count as crying, because the tears wouldn’t have fallen had he not closed his eyes. Several moments passed before his father spoke.

“You need to dress,” Drenen said. “Get some clothes on and come to breakfast.”

A strong smell of fresh-baked pastries and sweet cakes filled the air. His mother must have risen early to bake them. How could he have forgotten? The festival was today.

His father went over to his storage chest, pulled out fresh clothes, and threw them on the bed next to Elwin. He picked up the clothes. It was his newest trousers and best, green tunic. “Am I going to get to go to the Summer Solstice Festival today?”

His father’s tone became neutral. “Change your clothes, and we will discuss it at the breakfast table.”

He changed clothes and dug beneath his dirty clothes for his leather shoes. Elwin pulled them on as fast as possible. After lacing them up, he bounced out of the door and into the kitchen. His mother and father sat at the table. They had eggs and salted ham, but in his place was a bowl of porridge.

“Sit,” his father told him.

Elwin sat in the redwood chair and stared at the porridge. His bad dream had distracted him from his current predicament. He had forgotten that he had been in trouble. Obviously, his parents had not.

“Look at me son.”

Elwin looked at his father. Stern eyes studied Elwin in much the same way they would have looked over a lame horse.

“What you did yesterday was not excusable. I have a good mind to keep you from the festival today.”

Elwin looked back into his porridge, and tears began to fill his vision again. Feffer. Why did he have to follow Feffer onto the roof?

“We aren’t going to do that. But your mother and I have talked it over with Willem Madrowl, and we have decided that Feffer is going to come stay with us for a while. Starting tomorrow, you and Feffer are going to learn some discipline. Like I did when I was your age.”

“So,” Elwin said, “I am going to get to go to the festival today?”

Elwin’s father nodded. “And then Feffer will come home with us tonight. But just so you know, your mother and I are not happy with you.”

Elwin picked up his wooden spoon and picked at his porridge. Blah. It didn’t even have any cinnamon or fruit. And none of it had even been his fault, not really. Well, maybe the ladder was.

“Finish up so we can load your mother’s pastries and head into town for the festival.”

Town! The White Hand! He had forgotten the festival
and
the caravan. That stupid dream. Elwin finished his porridge in a few bites and tried to swallow without tasting it.

Wilton stood in the alley that separated his father’s warehouse and Jadron’s Furrier shop and watched the town square. This time of the morning the square was always void of inhabitants. But, soon there would be many maidens awaiting the tender touch of Wilton Madrowl. And he was not one to disappoint.

Several guards came out of the inn’s front door. The soldiers were the real reason for him being outside at such an early hour. Soldiers had not visited in such numbers in his lifetime. Why were they here? He watched them from the cover of the buildings.

Five of them walked away from the inn toward the square. Four wore chain shirts, covered by a red tunic. At the tunic’s center was the right hand of a palm, the symbol of the King of Justice’s personal guard. The fifth man was the largest man Wilton had ever seen. He was even larger than Faron. He wore a white tunic with a red hand at its center.

His black-red hair wove into a warrior’s braid, and he had a short peppered beard. He wore full plate that had the white hand crested on its right shoulder. A sword as tall as Wilton hung on the man’s back. Narrower toward the hilt, the blade broadened slightly before coming to a point at the end. Wilton had never seen its like. Maybe Faron would know the sword’s type.

As the group wandered toward him, he stepped back into the shadows of the building.

The larger man’s voice was deep. “Better to make the announcement at the height of their festival. Let them enjoy one last moment of peace before they learn of the war.”

War?

“Yes, my lord,” one of the soldiers replied.

“Biron,” the gruff man said. “In the meantime, I want you to get a head count of the town’s eligible recruits.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wilton started edging backward, away from the men. Maybe he would miss this year’s festival after all. He had no desire to go to any war. No maiden, not even Elwin’s cousin Dasmere with her pretty, brown eyes and long, auburn locks would be worth being recruited for war.

Something crunched beneath his feet. Wilton froze. It felt like bamboo.

“Shh.” The gruff man looked into the alley, right at Wilton.

Run or stay?

The man in full plate moved with surprising agility toward him. Again Wilton froze, and an iron grasp took him by the shoulder. “What are you doing here citizen?”

“I … this is my father’s shop. I was just … I didn’t hear anything.”

The man’s dark eyes studied him. “What is your name?”

Lie to him?

“I am,” he paused. “I’m Wilton Madrowl.”

“You, no doubt, have heard me tell my men that war is coming to our lands. You must not tell anyone of this. I will make the announcement to your townspeople before the festival comes to a close. I am Zaak Lifesong, Captain Commander of the White Hand. That is an order citizen.”

Wilton gave him an awkward bow with his head. “Yes, my lord.”

When the large man released his grip, Wilton massaged his sore shoulder.

“It has been some time since anyone has gotten the drop on me,” the man pondered aloud. “What is your age?”

Again Wilton wondered whether or not he should lie, but at last he said, “I have seen seventeen namedays, my lord.”

“That’s one Biron.”

“Aye sir, one.”

Elwin jumped in surprise when he saw Feffer running to greet their wagon. Mr. Madrowl didn’t hold him from the festival either. Elwin started to jump from the back of the wagon, but a strong grip on his left shoulder stopped him. He turned to see his father’s
“no-nonsense”
stare.

“Son, you two stay out of trouble. Now, promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Take this.” His father handed him a purse of small coins.

“Wow, thanks!” Elwin took it and attached it to his belt.

“Just remember your promise. You too, Feffer. You two be good today.”

“Yes, Mr. Escari.”

Elwin jumped out of the back of the wagon and ran toward the inn. “Let’s see if they are still here.”

“Wait!” Feffer called to him.

Elwin stopped. “Don’t you want to see?”

Feffer shook his head. “The door to the inn is shut and being blocked by the White Hand. They tell me to ‘scat,’ like a stray dog every time I try to get past them.”

“What? Why would they do that?” Elwin shook his head. “Well, this inn belongs to my Poppe. Let’s see them try to keep me out of there.”

Elwin marched toward the inn. The square was full of so many people, it made his march more of a jostled strut.

As he passed Faron’s table, the man stopped him. “Whoa, Elwin. What’s the hurry?”

“I can’t stop now Faron, there is something I have to do.”

Faron laughed. “On your way to the book merchant I guess?”

Elwin stopped. “Asalla is here?”

“You didn’t know? I’m surprised you aren’t bothering the old merchant now.”

Elwin shook his head. “I am going to find out why the White Hand is here first.”

“Yeah,” Feffer piped in. “
We
are going to find out why they are here.”

Faron laughed. “Well, good luck. Many people are gossiping as to the why of it, but I am not much for gossip. I just hope they take a look at my weapons here. I have always wanted to be a king’s blacksmith.”

“You don’t want to know why they are here?” Elwin asked.

“I am sure we will know when they want us to know.”

“Come on, Elwin.” Feffer pulled on his shoulder.

“Bye, Faron.”

“You two stay out of trouble.”

Elwin followed Feffer to the front of the inn. A man stood in front of the door, and he held a giant pole with an odd-shaped blade at the tip. “I wonder what his weapon is?”

“It is a halberd,” Feffer said.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I have only wanted to be a member of the White Hand my entire life.”

“Oh, right.”

Elwin put a foot on the first step, determined to make it past the guard. The man placed his halberd in front of the door. “Scat, child.”

“See. Come on Elwin.”

“But this is my Poppe’s inn. You can’t keep me out of here.”

The guard raised both of his eyebrows. “I said
scat
.”

He opened his mouth to tell him that he would do no such thing, but that halberd looked sharp. Instead he said, “Let’s go find Asalla.”

“Why do we want to look at a bunch of books?”

“You don’t like to read?”

Feffer shrugged. “If it’s raining outside, sometimes. Or if it has a story about Faragand the Red.”

“Who?”

“I thought you liked books,” Feffer said with a hint of indignation. “Faragand is the greatest swordsman that ever lived. He was a slave in the ancient lands of Maar. He fought his way to freedom. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of him.”

Elwin shrugged. “I only read about important stuff, like elementalists.”

“Pfft,” Feffer retorted. “How many elementalists are as popular as Faragand? I don’t know any famous ones.”

“There are plenty,” Elwin said. “Fistledon the Great for one.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Feffer said.

“Well I’ve never heard of Fargrim,” Elwin said.

“Fa-ra-gand,” Feffer said.

“Whatever,” Elwin rolled his eyes. “I’ve never heard of him either.”

Feffer scowled at Elwin. He sighed turning away from Feffer and spotted the covered wagon toward the east of town in front of Faron’s smithy. It rose above the other wagons, and it had a large book, worn from weather, painted on its side.