An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  Happened that the egg was that of a large turtle, who found him by the sea when he returned the next time he got hungry. The turtle got very mad and would have killed the boy then and there, but then he decided it was a waste, and took the boy. Vengeance, he said. His only surviving child—his mate dead for many months—and the boy had the audacity to eat it. He didn’t seem to care that the egg was possibly addled.

  Little Ajy appeared to have been lost to the world forever, and his story could’ve ended there. But he appeared on the shores of Cael fifteen years later, a full-grown man, tall and muscular and scarred. He walked, the old texts say, with a definite purpose. He killed the beast Tandahg—an enormous tusked creature that 'bled a river when pierced with a sword'—and was seen dragging the body to the shore, where a great turtle emerged. The turtle took one look at the body and seemed to sigh a great sigh, as if it was part of the waves. Then he turned and disappeared into the sea.

  Agartes returned, where the villagers in what would later be Cael and Kiel rejoiced, hailing him a hero. Under his tutelage, the towns prospered. Roads were built leading to the kingdom of Hafod. Somewhere along the way he was taken in by the Hafed king and became a high-ranking general. He defended the lands from Dageis and created truce with Gaspar over the mountains.

  Died a lonely death in Cael, they said. Not befitting for a hero. Not in the midst of a glorious battle, sword in hand, crying for a land he loved, but in a cold bed, mourning a dead wife and children, crying for a land he left.

  “Will you go home soon?” Kefier asked, one night away from Cael City.

  Camden didn't answer immediately, but the look on his face made Kefier regret asking in the first place. “I'm thinking that would be nice,” he said, slumping back against a fence on the road. “I'm tired. I want my bed. My family. My dogs! Do you know, Kefier, there is nothing like the sound of your own dogs greeting you when you come home.”

  Kefier didn’t answer, and Camden didn't try to talk again until at least an hour later.

  “I gave it to him,” he said, holding the pendant up against the sunlight. “On his naming day. Green, for the mother’s colour.” Camden paused. “I wish I can give his mother a better answer than this.”

  “We all want better answers,” Kefier murmured. “I don’t think we’re allowed to have them.”

  They reached Cael City by midday the next day. Kefier had never in his life seen a city like this before. He stopped to gape at it and Camden had to bully him towards the gate to stop them from getting trampled by merchants on the road.

  “Visitors to Cael?” a man asked, from his watchtower. “Merchants or tourists? You've family here?” He sounded bored.

  “We’re here to see Lillah Artek,” Kefier replied, from behind Camden.

  “Names?”

  “Camden maic Camden of Saldor in Baidh.”

  “Kefier of Cairntown.” He wasn’t taking chances this time.

  “All right,” the man said, scribbling and then gesturing. The heavy gates opened from the inside. Gingerly, Kefier and Camden stepped into Cael for the first time.

  Children spilled across the wide streets of cobblestone, shouting and laughing in rosy-cheeked joy. The shingle-roofed buildings stood evenly, in neat rows, two stories tall and made of cut stone, the colour of sun-drenched white. Clotheslines hung across balconies and street corners; trees and flowered shrubs marked the tiny sections of soil in between the streets.

  Cael City stood as the centre of worship of the wood god Yohak. The city thrived on the constant come and go of tourists and pilgrims, and on exporting stone from the quarries up north. Fuyyu was busier and Cairntown more populous, but Cael had more culture and less stink. It pleased Kefier to not have to hold his hand so close to his nose whenever he saw an open gutter.

  They stopped at the temple first, to Camden’s insistence. It was a large building, palace-like to Kefier's eyes, with steps made of marble. Kefier felt guilty for having so much mud on his boots. A vast array of peddlers stood by the entrance, selling trinkets of worship—necklaces and prayer beads and statuettes. There were beggars, too, kneeling by the steps or marble pillars, although they looked cleaner than any beggar Kefier had met in the past. A man played the lyre nearby, singing praises to the god.

  “Bracelets, sir?” a woman called to Kefier, as Camden strode ahead in awe. He shook his head.

  “I don’t worship Yohak.”

  “Does it matter?” she asked. She was feeble and shook while she talked. “A god is a god is a god. If you believe, he listens, no matter what you name him.” She held a bracelet made of wooden beads, the symbol of Yohak etched over the weathered grain. Kefier frowned, but he dug into his pocket until he found a dusty coin and gave it to her. She pressed the bracelet into his hands, smiling toothlessly.

  “May his guidance find you on your road,” she said. Kefier knew it was a sales tactic, but it made him feel funny anyway. He followed Camden towards the temple, removing his shoes by the door at an old man's bidding. The whiteness pervaded even the inside. The windows were covered in coloured panes of glass, depicting several images, scenes of some sort—a man with a cane standing over a wood, a child on a boat. An altar stood at the far end, with interlocking symbols of the god, plain in contrast to the rest of the temple—brown, for Yohak. It shadowed the centre of the temple, with its long cushions. Several people kneeled or sat on them, meditating or praying. Camden was at the end of an aisle, his eyes shut tight.

  The hollow silence echoed around Kefier as he took the cushion behind Camden. He had fully intended to pray to his own god, too, but somehow it didn't feel right. So instead he tinkered with the bracelet and glanced at his surroundings, wondering at the tall beams and the chandeliers and the statues. There was one of a man in a full suit of armour, a sword in one hand and a beast’s head in the other.

  “Yohak guided such a man,” Camden murmured. Kefier started, and saw that he was staring at the same statue. “Agartes, I mean. A holy man. A hero. What is a child to the gods? A child doesn't mean a damn thing.” And then he set his jaw and motioned for Kefier to follow him out of the temple.

  They found Lillah Artek's district to the north. If they had gaped upon entering the city before, their jaws nearly hit the pavement now. The streets were wide enough for two carriages to pass side-by-side. The architecture of some of the buildings bore a resemblance to the Yohak temple—designed around white stone or marble, tall columns, and liberally decorated with statues of Kag deities, gods, and important political figures. There were shops of every kind, some showcasing their wares inside glass. “They say it mirrors the cities in Hafod,” Camden murmured, his face alight with wonder. “The only one of its kind in these parts.” He stopped and drew a long breath. “There, Kefier. See? That’s where Lillah performs.”

  The building he pointed at was bigger even than the temple of Yohak. Kefier could not fathom what possessed these people to build such a structure, and yet there it was, a giant amongst ants. Camden started to talk about theatre, artists, councils, merchants, and the myriad of activities contained by this building alone. He lost Kefier right around the point where he began a tirade about how the Caelians approached tragic romances and why for all intents and purposes Baidh did it better than anyone else.

  Lillah met them at the door to her apartment. After everything else Kefier had seen that day, it seemed small and bare. She hustled them inside, bolted the door, and called for her maid, a mousey-looking girl who couldn't be more than twelve, to start dinner.

  “I'm sorry for the mess,” Lillah said. “I've been moving my furniture around, you know how that is. Do you both realize you're three days late? I was afraid you'd forgotten about me.”

  “We got into some trouble,” Kefier said. Lillah's expression changed, and he quickly added, “But it's over now. Um, do you mind? If I can get a bath or a change of clothes or...I know Camden's been dying to talk to you.” He tried to smile, but it was difficult when Camden remained serious.


  “Of course,” Lillah said. “Jerisi! Jerisi, draw some water up, won't you? And get some of Garril's clothes—the top drawer—you know.” The girl nodded and sprinted upstairs.

  “Garril's clothes?” Kefier blanched.

  “He's going to be in Vildar for another week, if you must know.” Lillah smoothed out her dress. “And he doesn't live here, so it's not like he'll care.” Jerisi arrived with a bundle and handed it to Kefier. He smiled awkwardly at her.

  “Just show me the pump, please. Don't bother bringing water in.”

  She looked horrified. “But it's right outside.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She hesitated before letting him follow her through the kitchen and out the back. He glanced around. Lillah's yard was fenced in, with stone walls higher than his head. He placed the clothes along a dry window, removed his shirt, and started the pump.

  “Oh,” the girl said, walking back out. “Here's some soap, if you want.”

  Kefier thanked her and began lathering his hair over a bucket. She came up behind him and started the pump again. He sighed under the stream of water.

  “You've got a big burn in your back,” the girl suddenly blurted out. “And lash marks.”

  He tried to pretend it didn’t make him uncomfortable that she noticed his scars. “Do me a favour—never visit Dageis.”

  “You were a slave?”

  He paused in the middle of washing his beard and looked at her. He didn’t really want to answer the question, but he nodded. The girl didn’t catch on to his silence and began pressing him for answers. She had never met anyone from outside Cael, let alone someone who had been to Dageis first hand, and he found it difficult to deflect the attention. But eventually, he finished washing up and took Garril's spare clothes from her. The Caelian-style tunic was patterned in blue and short-sleeved, which allowed some of the tattoos on his left arm to show through.

  Lillah and Camden were still talking in the sitting room when he returned. A hunch of cold roast pork was laid out in front of them, mostly untouched. Kefier sat across from them and helped himself. Camden noticed him after a while and looked up. Kefier smiled at him. “You stink. Maybe you should take a bath.”

  Camden flushed. Lillah smiled. “Well, I don't think you'll fit into Garril's clothes very well, so maybe I can get Jerisi to run off and get you some.”

  “I'll do it,” Kefier said. “Where's the stores?”

  She handed him a coin purse. “You must've passed some on the way here.”

  “I don't know if he should go. Maybe it's best if I do it,” Camden broke in.

  Kefier smiled. “Don't worry about me. We're in the city now. What's the worst that could happen?”

  It was inevitable, of course, that after having uttered such fate-defying words he would get lost between a crowded intersection, clutching a paper-wrapped package under a sudden downpour. Kefier stood there, blinking back water and swearing. Horse-drawn carriages danced past him, their passengers oblivious to the rain.

  “What's the big deal?” he called out to someone who had managed to find shelter beneath a meat-skewer vendor's parasol. “It's almost as if they're excited to be out here. It's damp and it's dark.”

  “It's also the first showing of The Grey Rose,” the man said. “A most glorious event. One of Ranochi's masterpieces, you know, and the lead tenor is one of Kiel's...”

  Kefier looked up, recognizing the face. “It’s you. I shared a cart with you on the way to Vildar.”

  The man blinked. “Perhaps.”

  “No, it is you. You left a blanket, too. It's back at Lillah's—I can get it if you want.”

  The man held out his hand. “Before you say anything more, come and join me and my friend here. There's plenty of room. If you would be so kind, sir—” The vendor grunted, but he moved his roasting grill a foot to the side, allowing Kefier to squeeze in. Kefier shook the water from his arms and heaved a sigh of relief. The coals from the ash pit were glowing red and the heat felt pleasant against his skin.

  “Now, where were we?” the man asked, his hand over his thin beard. “Ah. The blanket. Well, as I went ahead and got a new one after I was so careless, I suppose you could have it for yourself. Consider it a gift.”

  “I noticed something strange about it.”

  “The smell?”

  “What? No. I mean—” Kefier glanced at the vendor, but the man seemed disconcerted about something and was trying very hard not to look at them. He shook his head. “I think you had that thing enchanted.”

  “Did I?” The man seemed somewhat amused by the statement.

  Kefier frowned. “This isn't a joke. It saved our lives.”

  “I'm sure. I've heard it gets cold out in those woods.” The man tapped the vendor on the shoulder. “Two intestines, please, for me and my friend here.”

  “I can't pay you back.”

  “I didn't say anything about paying me back.” The man took the skewers with a smile and handed one to Kefier. “Don't concern yourself over the blanket. It is an ordinary thing and it is what it is.” He took a big bite from the roasted intestine and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “You said you're staying at a ‘Lillah's’ place. Lillah Artek?”

  “Ab, you're one of those too, aren't you? What’s that word—an ardent admirer?”

  The man smirked. “And I see you're not. That's fine. I'm glad you found a good place to stay.”

  “Well, for a while. Probably a night or so.” Kefier narrowed his eyes. “Why does this concern you?”

  “It doesn't. I'm merely commenting.”

  “Right. You're not fooling me.” Something clicked in his head. A memory—no, memories. The man was too familiar. But the details slipped him, even as he tried to reach for them, and he found himself opening his mouth before he could decide where he’d last seen him. “You’re Ylir,” he said. “Not Doras. You hired some of my friends last year. Guarding some trade caravans over at the Gaspar border.” The words spilled from his tongue. “Did you follow me all the way from Cairntown? Did Baeddan send you?”

  Ylir glanced at him nonchalantly. “Don't be absurd. From what I understand, your capture is strictly between you and your faction. In other words, you have no value to other people and thus none of my concern. More intestine?”

  Kefier tried to look at him a second time, trying to remember beyond that. That voice—he couldn’t have heard it from then, because he was too far away. He’d only really seen the man leave Baeddan’s office. Ylir had glanced at him and then walked away. Only later did he learn that he was a representative of one of the biggest trading companies in the Kag. The men who were awarded his jobs always said he was a fair master, if a bit stern, and apt to giving generous rewards if things went his way. He had never asked what happened if things didn’t go his way.

  The man himself looked plain, with the kind of face you’d have a hard time picking out of a crowd. He looked like he was in his early thirties. His posture was languid, a contrast to his dancing eyes. Kefier knew that sort—he was the kind of man who, snake-like, could pretend to be enjoying the sun while waiting for the moment to strike. Is his presence in Cael all just a coincidence? The thought made Kefier uncomfortable. He didn’t like games. If the man wanted him dead, he should really just stick a knife in him now and get it all over with.

  “You look like a fisherman, dropped his net over the sea.”

  There, he thought, struggling. That voice. He looked at the man, narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry?”

  Ylir shook his head. “An old Hafed saying. You’re still worried your friends sent me here to kill you. That’s understandable.”

  He swallowed. “So you’re telling me they don’t want to kill me after all.” It was difficult to sound casual, especially after the last few days.

  Ylir pulled out a piece of meat from his skewer and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, they do. They want your head, preferably set on a pike in front of the keep. So when Gaven set you free, it really set things aflame
.”

  Kefier had to stop to let that sink in. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. “I thought you just said that Gaven set me free.”

  “So goes the rumours.”

  “Gaven. Officer Gaven.”

  Ylir shrugged.

  Kefier tried to look straight at him. “The man who took me there in the first place. That Gaven.”

  “Funny enough you mentioned that,” Ylir said, scratching his neat beard. “He seemed like the unstable sort. I’m not even sure why your boss thought he’d make a good officer.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. If you may recall, I left soon after I heard news you’d escaped yet again. I didn’t think I would actually end up sharing a ride to Vildar with you.” He smirked. “Believe me when I say that I have no time to waste pointing you out to them. I’m a very busy man. Perhaps, if you make things inconvenient for me, I’ll mention you when next I meet with Baeddan but for now, you’re the least of my concerns.”

  The rain had turned to a soft drizzle. Kefier felt a chill on his bones. “Thank you, I suppose,” he murmured. He hesitated. There was a word on the tip of his tongue, connected to his memory, that was gone, now. He blinked. “I’ve got to go.” It sounded to him like he was speaking for his own benefit.

  Ylir waved goodbye.

  It was easier to figure out Lillah's house now that he knew which direction the theatre stood. Jerisi met him at the door, took the package from him, and showed him to a guest room upstairs. It was small, but the bed was clean. Kefier threw himself on it and dreamt of nothing but clouds the whole night through.

  He woke up sometime in the early morning, thinking, you're staying at a Lillah's place. Lillah Artek?

  Kefier slowly rolled out of bed. He could hear Camden snoring in the next room. Kefier remembered the night they escaped from Vildar. He didn’t want to cause any more trouble for him. Even though he was older than Kefier, he was surprisingly naive, and something about that grated Kefier’s insides. They had gotten lucky last time. If the faction ever caught up with them again, they would most certainly get rid of any inconveniences along the way, and that included Camden and Lillah. Why did he get so careless, telling Ylir about the singer? No matter what the man said, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the faction followed. Who would they send this time? If Algat himself came—