The Blade Heir (Book 1) (12 page)

Lucius looked at Siegfried, whose eyes had returned to their normal color.

"What was that?" he felt scared and elated at the same time.

"I recited an elven song of speed, which gives one considerable prowess in close combat," Siegfried exhaled deeply.

"You there! Stop!" Clay, the lanky guard came running out of the shadows. His bigger partner followed behind with a torch in hand. "What's all the commotion here?"

"These men tried to rob us, sir," Lucius pointed to the unconscious thieves on the floor.

"How do we know it's not the other way around?" the burly guard spit as he talked.

"If you'll notice, they are the ones who have a dagger on them. Whereas, we handed over our weapons to you earlier today," Siegfried stated matter-of-factly.

Clay reached down and picked up the dagger. "He's right. This one's got a weapon. These must be the maggots that have been causing us trouble these past few nights, Ruel."

"Looks like it. A few days in the dungeon with shackles around their wrists and ankles might help them see the error of their ways," Ruel chortled.

A few more guards came running to the scene; two of them were also holding torches.

"Take these men to the dungeon," Ruel ordered his subordinates.

The men complied and dragged the battered bandits back to the guard tower by Sylvania's gate.

"We owe you both a debt of gratitude. Those two thieves have proved quite a nuisance," Clay exhorted.

"Actually, the gratitude belongs to Siegfried. He single-handedly beat them in the fight," Lucius glanced at the elf, who stood silent. "But there is a small discrepancy that must be dealt with immediately."

"Discrepancy? What are you going on about?" Ruel's brow furrowed.

"It seems to me that earlier today, you thought we would cause trouble in this city and perhaps even insinuated we were the thieves you've been attempting to catch. But your judgment was in error, and it appears to me that thanks to my brother, the streets of Sylvania are safe again."

"And exactly what might you be getting at, friend?" Clay crossed his arms in indignation.

"Well, since you both made a mistake and can now see that we are not thieves or troublemakers, perhaps an apology and a return of our belongings is in order," he grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

"An apology." Ruel's eyes widened enough for Lucius to see them clearly in the dark.

"I think it only fair," Lucius retorted.

"Calm yourself, Ruel. We will return your belongings just as soon as the thieves are locked up, but we will not apologize for safeguarding the city from likely threats," Clay said.

"Apology accepted," Lucius smiled. "Please take our belongings to Griffin's Head. Morton will see that we get them."

Clay reluctantly agreed while Ruel grumbled as the two guards walked back to the tower.

"It has been an interesting night, my friend," Lucius rubbed his sleepy eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, it has. You handled those guards very well, Lucius. Father would be proud," the elf patted him on the back and began walking up the hill to the inn.

"Proud of me? What about you? You're the one who took those men down within the blink of an eye," Lucius gushed, reliving the scene of Siegfried's speedy battle.

Siegfried smiled, but said nothing more of the fight. "Come, brother. Let us go and rest our weary eyes. Tomorrow will be a new day for furthering this adventure of ours."

 EIGHT

The Healer and the Assassin

The sun shone brightly in the clearing of the forest where Silas lay. Nightmares of black creatures with glowing yellow eyes haunted him as he slept. A few moments before one of the demons slashed with its sharp claws at his face, Silas woke up. He was disoriented and surprised to find himself in a clearing, lying next to a smoldered campfire. The arrow wound on his shoulder had been bandaged tight, and a strip of cloth was wrapped around his forehead where he had struck it on a rock in the raging river. Suddenly, his memory flashed back to his turbulent night on the Feilon. He nearly drowned in the torrents before reaching the surface and before escaping the river's wrath; he felt the blunt force of a rock smack his forehead underwater. The last thing he saw was the riverbank and then darkness. But where am I now?
Trees were all around him, blocking his view of the Onyx Mountains or any other significant landmarks. And he could not hear the rushing waters of the Feilon, only the songs of birds in the trees overhead. He guessed it was mid morning from the position of the sun peeking through the forest canopy. He unwrapped some of his bandages and also examined the cuts on his arms from the rocks in the river. His bruises had begun to heal and did not look fresh, which meant he had been passed out for more than a night.

He got up and felt lightheaded at first, but after a few moments standing still, he felt well enough to walk around. His sword and armor were laid out on the opposite side of the campfire. While putting on his shirt mail and greaves, he noticed a leather bag that wasn't his own. He reached for the bag, but stopped short when he heard the sound of footsteps in the forest.

"Hello?" Silas' eyes darted back and forth, seeing nothing.

"Hello there, stranger," a female voice came from behind him.

He spun around, with one hand clasping his sword, and met the woman's gaze. She had a slender build with curly red hair and cobalt blue eyes.

"I see you're up and about," the woman said. "Would you like something to eat?"

"How did you ..." Silas stammered. "Who are you?"

The lady smiled. "My name is Violet. I'm an alchemist's apprentice from Sylvania."

"Sylvania? Are we in Sylvania?" Silas asked, wondering how far he'd ventured from Ithileo.

"No, we are only a few miles east of the Dulan River, near the ruins of Arkadeus," she bent down and grabbed something from inside the leather bag beside him.

"How did I get here?"

"I found you on the banks of the Feilon, just beyond this forest, while I was gathering winnow leaves. You were bleeding profusely and in need of healing salves. I placed you on the back of Homer, my horse, and brought you here to tend to your wounds," she said while starting the fire with two flint stones from her bag.

"How long have I been here?" Silas sat down beside her, feeling faint again.

"A day has passed since I found you. Your wounds are healing well, but it might not be wise for you to travel anywhere yet. The head wound is still tender, and you might faint again if you strain yourself," she grabbed something else from her bag. It was a small frying pan along with two raw fish wrapped in papyrus.

He wanted to thank her for her kindness, but he quickly felt dizzy and nauseous.

Violet glanced over at him, realizing what was happening. "Lay your head down, my lord. Please rest for now, and when you wake, a meal shall be ready for you to eat so your strength might be restored."

Her voice was soothing to his ears. He lay down on the grassy floor of the clearing and watched the tree branches sway in a slow breeze. The smell of frying fish along with a sweeter scent—some unknown spice—wafted into his nostrils. His eyelids became heavy with sleep, and soon he drifted into a quiet dream.

"Insolent fool!" Lord Memnon struck Genghis with the back of his scaly hand.

Genghis winced from the pain of the blow across his face, "I'm sorry, my master."

"Your warriors allowed the Prince of Aldron to escape," Memnon glowered.

"The Draknoir force were unaware that the son of Dermont would be present in Ithileo."

"Unaware? He is the leader of the Drachengarde. Where else would he be, General?" Memnon fumed. He paced his dark chamber as Genghis grasped for words.

"My lord—"

"No more excuses, Genghis; I don't have the patience for them," Memnon said, raising a hand to silence him. "Do you have scouts on the river searching for Dermont's son?"

"Yes, my lord," Genghis eagerly replied—relieved the rebuking was over. "The scouts are patrolling the Feilon as we speak and searching for any sign of the Dragon Slayer."

"Good. He is wounded and cannot have gone far, but you will bring him to me alive, Genghis," Memnon said. He turned his back to face the Nergoth idol on the wall. "The heir of Aldron must face judgment for his crimes against our kind."

"Of course, my lord," Genghis agreed.

"Do you know which of your captains led the assault in Ithileo?" Memnon turned to face him with fierce eyes.

"Lytar and his battalion led the assault, Lord Memnon," Genghis answered, sensing malicious intent behind Memnon's question.

Memnon's lower lip twitched. "Execute him, General. Make it public amongst the other commanders so they know not to make the same mistake."

"Yes, master. It will be carried out promptly," Genghis bowed.

Before Memnon dismissed the general, there was a knock on the chamber door. The Draknoir sorcerer gave permission for entry into the hallowed hall and a lithe figure walked into the dark room. At first glance, Genghis was surprised to see it was a woman, and his first instinct was to attack her, but he soon recognized the thin, dark-haired lady.

"Ravenmane, you are early," Memnon said with a smirk. "I was just finishing my discussion with Genghis."

"Pardon me, my lords, I did not mean to intrude." Ravenmane bowed respectfully. "It is a pleasure to see you again, General Genghis."

"Yes, always a pleasure," Genghis replied with curled lips.

Memnon sensed his subordinate's discomfort and grinned, "You may take your leave, General."

"My lord," he bowed again and quickly walked out the door without acknowledging Ravenmane.

"All these years and he has yet to accept you as I do, Ravenmane," Memnon said. He looked into the young woman's green eyes trying to decipher her thoughts.

"I care not what the General thinks of me, my lord. I only seek your approval and instruction," Ravenmane said unwaveringly.

Memnon laughed. "Yes, I know. Your loyalty is a trait I deeply admire, even though you are of a lesser race."

Ravenmane accepted the insult without dispute.

"I have an errand for you, Ravenmane, and it will not be bloodless," Memnon stroked the horns protruding from his chin.

"I am at your command, my liege."

"I need you to travel to Tarshish, my dear girl. Dermont will seek to retaliate against Nasgothar for the loss of his dragon slayers and, in time, his beloved son," Memnon said, crossing his arms and staring into the crimson eyes of Nergoth's idol. "We must cripple any advance he would take against us. So I need you to kill one of his inner circle. Someone crucial to military victory."

"Whom would that be, my lord?" Ravenmane asked.

"The Captain of the Royal Guard ... Baron Stendahl."

NINE

 Lumiath

The morning of a new day came late for Lucius as he awoke to a knock on the door of his room around noon. He slowly crawled out from the bed, surprised to see Siegfried was not in the room. The door opened just a crack before he could answer. He feared it was another thief like the previous night, but his fears were quelled when he saw it was merely Morton.

"Yes?" Lucius crossed his arms, unashamed at his unkempt appearance.

"Your elf partner told me to wake you at noon. He wanted you to know that he left early to gather provisions for your journey," the innkeeper peered from behind the half-opened door.

"Did he say where he would be?" Lucius asked curiously.

"No, he simply left enough money for your breakfast, which has gotten cold I'm afraid."

Lucius sighed. "Marvelous. I'll be down to eat it in a few minutes, thank you."

"Thank you, young sir," Morton shuffled back outside and closed the door.

Lucius dressed quickly and gathered his belongings. Clay and Ruel had been kind enough to send someone to drop off their weapons and gear last night before they had gone to bed. Lucius unsheathed his sword and slashed with it quickly from side to side. After a few more practice thrusts, he sheathed the weapon and put on his belt along with the rest of his clothing. Siegfried had not left any of his items behind, which did not surprise him. Elves were seldom known for tarrying in one spot for any given amount of time, aside from the woods or their homes.

He walked down the creaking stairs and was surprised to find the dining area lacking any patrons. Griffin's Vault was empty save for Morton, who sat behind the counter drinking, and the young waitress who was cleaning tabletops with a dirty rag.

Lucius sat down at one of the tables and was served a bowl of stone cold vegetable soup. He ate it ravenously and ordered a pint of mead to wash it down. When he was filled, he decided to go down to the marketplace and try to find Siegfried. Impatience with his elven brother was one of his flaws, but he did not wish to stay in the musty inn any longer than he needed to. After leaving a silver quintus for Morton and the waitress, he was on his way down the hill to the marketplace.

The market was teeming with activity once again. Townspeople were all around, buying food for their families, jewelry and trinkets for loved ones, and fabrics for knitting clothing. Lucius tried his best to weave his way through the crowd, but only found himself pestered by vendors who placed unwanted goods into his hands for him to buy. One of the vendors even threw a live chicken at him, insisting he needed it for his supper tonight. Lucius handed him back the frightened bird and moved away. He saw many men, women, and even a few elves wandering about, but there was no sign of Siegfried. Frustration began to build in him as he finally escaped the marketplace. Across from where he stood was the Crimson Eagle, and he wondered if Eldred would know his brother's whereabouts.