The Lost Eight - Duron Crejaro (free ebook novel .TXT) 📗

that was an organization of Renad’s followers?”

 

“Oh it is. One built after the end of the war at Renad’s request, to the man known as his Tempest. Hence the name.”

 

“So Renad’s Tempest is an actual person?” Desoil chimed in.

 

She merely shrugged, “Who knows?” An almost unnoticeable smirk rose up on her face, “Though, some have said that something happened to Renad during the war, something to do with the Lost Eight, and that he couldn’t bare to destroy them.”

 

A sneer erupted from Elris at this moment, “Who are we to venture on what a man thought that long ago. More likely then not, he didn’t want to destroy them and unleash magic back into Mris. What good would it have done? Look at the destruction left behind from that kind of power in the first place.” All gathered knew he spoke of the eviscerated landscape of the Desolation. A marred wasteland of desert filled with twisted mutations that blighted the continent. “It doesn’t matter why they weren’t destroyed. We just can’t let her find them. This is why we leave the dwarves to their methods for now. I agree that Belladria will be frustrated thoroughly in her attempts to gain it. We should secure the heir of Elia. Only the heir stands a chance of wielding the power that will bring an end to Belladria’s reign of terror, and prevent the world from descending into the follies of war.”

 

"And after that?" Creolis asked, draining another goblet of Shalusa, seeming a bit unsteady in his seat.

 

"I'm not sure yet, Maybe to the Citadel of Kevved, Somewhere where we might find clues to the location of the other Lost Eight. Speaking of which, have arrangements been made to get us out of the city unnoticed?" Elris cocked an eyebrow in Ahrianna’s direction.

 

"Of course, but it will take a few days. Besides, it would be unusual after this mornings display if you three were to simply vanish after only a day. Until then, I've arranged for lodgings at one of the more upstanding inns in town. I'm afraid we aren't equipped for guests here. Though, I'm sure you already knew that."

 

A laugh leapt from Elris, his mind shooting backwards in time, to some occasion of which he did not speak, "But of course. Then we shall take your leave for now, and let ourselves be seen about the city," A knowing smile upon his face. He thought to himself that maybe this would work out all right after all.

Chapter 11: Amlily

Ahrianna had gotten them quite a nice room. An aging portly man and his wife ran the Ole House Inn. The first day they spent relaxing in the confines of the inn, taking a well-deserved break after over two months of hard travel and luckless situations. Creolis took time to shave what he considered to be grotesque facial hair that had grown during the journey. They spent the evening in their large comfortable room, allowing their supper to be delivered to them. The innkeeper smiled politely to them as he set the tray on a simple oaken table, though he was obviously taken aback by the strange appearance of Desoil.

 

The next day they went down for a quiet breakfast in the common area of the inn. However, what they found was a large crowd. At first, they thought the turnout was for them, people coming to see the Silver lizard man. A short word with the innkeeper told another story. The inn had been packed for weeks, and not just this one. All the inns were like this, ever since the city had been flooded with people fleeing from Kynnory. Though Horace, the old portly innkeeper seemed to doubt the rumors of Kynnory's fall, since none of the refugees had actually seen it happen.

 

Creolis thought back to his first days with Elris, and the warning he had supposedly sent to his father about the coming attack. He did not recognize the people gathered, but that was no surprise. He had not been home in quite a few years and Kynnory, though not the biggest city, was still quite large. He scanned the crowd once more, and then turned back to his breakfast, thoroughly enjoying his peppered eggs.

 

"Creolis?" A thick gruff voice yelled out across the inn, trying to be heard above the noise. “Creolis Kynra?” Hearing his name caused him to look up surprised. Across the room stood an older man, short and husky in build. His full beard covering most of his face, a dark tan covering rough skin that appeared used to hard work.

 

He recognized him immediately. It was Rota, one of the more popular blacksmiths in Kynnory. He rose leaving the other two to their own devices and greeted the man with a hearty handshake. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I left with your father and mother. When they said the town was going to be attacked, a lot of us packed up and left with them." He ran his hand through his balding hair, “Though honestly, a lot of us aren't sure if it ever actually happened."

 

"Oh no, my father was right. I watched Kynnory burn from a distance. Don't think of going back, its in occupied territory now." He answered sadly, thinking back to that night on the boat, the orange glow he saw through that terribly long night as Kynnory burned. A feeling of helplessness returned to him, showing on his face.

 

"But who would start a war?” He seemed perplexed as he voiced aloud his curiosity, his simple mind unable to grasp who would disturb four hundred years of peace and prosperity. “The city-states have been at peace for hundreds of years now."

 

He bit his lip a little throwing a careful glance in Elris’ direction. He was unsure how much he should tell the simple man, and decided that it would be better to feign ignorance. "I don't know, but it’s not safe. You said you left with my family. Are they here in Amlily?"

 

"Of course, your parents are staying over at the Wistful Down across town."

 

"I'm sorry to make this short, but I haven't seen them in quite a while. I must go. It was good to see you friend." An anxious excitement was rising within him. It had been to long since he had seen his family, even though he was stationed so close to home he seemed to always have a reason to miss a visit. Yet, now here he was after everything that had happened recently and he was scared still to face them. Rota smiled with a nod, raising his mug towards him.

 

Creolis went back to his table quickly, informing the others that he had learned his parents made it to Amlily after all. Elris cautioned him not to reveal too much to them, but agreed that he should see them. He left the inn quickly, pushing through the crowds that had begun to gather. Word was already spreading that the Silver One was staying there as the Loremaster's guest.

 

His stride was quick, pausing only a moment to ask for directions from a local. It took several minutes to make his way through the bustle of the city to where the Wistful Down stood. It was a much cheaper establishment than the one Ahrianna had put them up in. He could easily tell the building was well worn with age. Purposefully, he entered the dimly lit tavern. Scanning the crowd, he could not find them. Several patrons turned at his entrance, watching him. He gave a curt nod before stopping a serving girl to ask for the keeper. She smiled with a nod as she delivered a large mug to a nearby table.

 

   A few minutes later, a large swarthy old man approached. His beard was enormous; having been growing a few decades at least, Creolis surmised looking at the gray fullness of it. He used his old white apron torn and stained in many places to dry the sweat from his brow as he moved across the room. "My daughter says you needed to see me." A thick gruff accent he spoke with.

 

"Yes Sir," a small polite nod, "Someone told me that Mr. and Mrs. Kynra are staying at your fine inn."

 

"Aye. That they are lad, they're upstairs in their room with one of those Siladia Priests. Room three if I recall, last one upstairs on the left." He replied appearing to ponder it a moment, "Aye room three." He wandered off back to his work.

 

Creolis hurried upstairs finding the room of which the old man had spoken. Gently he rapped upon the wooden doorframe twice and waited impatiently. Mere seconds later the door creaked open just a crack, and Creolis smiled. His father had a look of bewilderment on his face as he quickly stepped into the hall with his son. "Son, What on Repik are you doing here?" His father asked happily.

 

"I'm here with Elris. He umm," He rubbed the back of his head unsure of how to put it, not wanting to tell his father that Elris had forged documents and spirited him away from the fort shortly before it was ransacked. "Saved me from Fort Konway before it was attacked."

 

He clapped him on the shoulder roughly, "Ah I knew he would when I got his message about evacuating Kynnory. He always did seem to have a soft spot for you and Dearn." He spoke with a fondness in his voice referring to his younger son.

 

"So where is mother? I'd sure like to give her a hug and let her know I'm safe. I'm sure she must be awfully worried. Also, what is this about a priest? Has something happened to her?"

 

The glow of his father's smile left immediately, replaced by an intense melancholy gloom. "She caught the cough on the trip from Kynnory to Calle. They did what they could there, but it didn't go away. I'm afraid that it has gotten worse on the trip to Amlily. The priest is with her." He stopped a moment, his voice cracking as a tear rolled down his aging face. "She's dying Creolis..." his voice trailed off.

 

A grief stricken look crossed his face, "Can I see her?" He managed to say, though his voice came out as a meager whisper. His mind was reeling from the idea. No, his father must be wrong, she was fine. He must be overreacting his mind attempted to convince him.

 

"Of course son, but she is very weak. If you're going to see her you best do it now. The priest doesn't seem to think she will last the night. I'll go and get him out so ya'll can have some privacy." His father reentered the room quietly. Creolis stood waiting in the hall, counting the seconds by the beat of his heart. After what seemed like an eternity, his father and the priest emerged from the room, and made way for him to enter. His mother was laid out in the bed, covered to her neck in a thick quilt. He was wounded to the core by her appearance, haggard and drawn, pale and feverish. He approached slowly, not sure whether she was awake or not.

 

"Mother?" Softly he spoke as he knelt at her bedside. Her eyes fluttered slightly,