The Keeper's Codex: Ashen Memories

by A. D. Wills

  “Please, ring the bell to convene everyone in the city,” Calaera asked.

  “Of course, right away milady!” Lorin nodded, and dashed away without so much as waiting another moment.

  Anytime Dreymond would need to address the city for whatever reason of importance, Lorin rang the city bell that echoed out a deep chime signaling everyone to gather at once.

  “It's time I address everyone myself,” Calaera declared, storming out of the room with purpose—the doors closing behind her to leave Xokun alone in thought.

  Calaera made her way toward the balcony where Dreymond would always make his addresses. More than ever, the nerves started to sink in, but she pushed on with every step. She wasn't about to let herself be overcome by any amount of doubt, not now.

  Arriving at the balcony, Calaera stood behind the royal blue curtains—the only thing separating her from the crowd already grumbling, and buzzing below. In only a few minutes everyone will have gathered, dropping everything to make their way to the city square.

  “Aren't you going to go out there?” Shyn jumped down from a crevice in the ceiling to face Calaera.

  “Once I find the words I need,” Calaera began. “I've never spoken to any of them before—let alone the entire city at once. And now, I have to tell them all of this...”

  “Now you're feeling shaky of all times?” Shyn smirked beneath his garbs.

  “I just don't know how they might see me, what they might think of me with my father gone. He was the one who they all believed in, not his young daughter. To them, I could very well just be a spoiled heir who they see as being completely overwhelmed. This entire time, I may as well have been an afterthought to them, and I wouldn't be able to blame them for it either.” Calaera showed a rare bit of vulnerability, the likes of which Shyn hadn't seen since she was maybe they were young children.

  “I don't think they will think that at all. They might not know you, but they're about to. I'm sure they will see the only person who is able to lead us all through this. They're going to see the very pride and joy of your father in yourself. They're going to see the strongest person I've ever met. And whatever you need me to do, I'm here to serve.”

  “Thank you, Shyn,” Calaera took his words to heart, like she would do with no one else. “And you will never be here to serve me, you would do well to remember that, Shyn. I need more than that,” Calaera reminded Shyn with a friendly smile, and whipped right through the curtains in one motion to get the nerves out, and wash over her.

  “You're the one I should be thanking,” Shyn said, looking back over at the curtains, and went to observe from a safe unseen distance elsewhere.

  Calaera stood atop the pale blue balcony she didn't remember being so spacious. She would always be standing beside her father, excited just to have this wide spanning view of all of Lyndenwell and its citizens below, but now she stood alone.

  Below in the city square, everyone bunched in together shoulder-to-shoulder. There wasn't any cheering or any reaction at all to Calaera's emergence, though not out of disrespect, but only because they all knew what this summons was likely for. They hadn't been ignorant to Dreymond's prolonged absence, and seeing Calaera on her own confirmed those worries some days later without any word of Dreymond's absence.

  Approaching the railing, Calaera clipped on a thin metal vocal amplifier necklace around her neck with a piece of glynt embedded inside.

  “I imagine most of you are all too aware of why I'm here making this summons, and not my father.” Calaera noticed the already bleak atmosphere sink further—the deadened silence across all of their worried faces. “Xokun of the elemental council who arrived earlier brought news from the Summit, but none more saddening than my Father being murdered, taken away from us before his time.” Calaera went right out and said it without trying to dampen, or cover it up as something else. They all deserved to know the cold truth, just as she did.

  Waves of people broke down in tears, and shouted for an explanation for this tragedy, just as Calaera pined for earlier. Pleading, screaming, weeping, they wanted answers. But Calaera knew all too well what anger, confusion, fear and sadness they're feeling right now to deny them of anything.

  “Usually matters of the Summit aren't shared outside its chambers, but this doesn't affect just myself or my father, it affects each and every one of us. None of you deserve to be lied to, or kept in the dark,” Calaera assured them all. “What I know is that there was a disagreement at the Summit that led to Eszu storming out—feeling he was betrayed by my Father and the others. Instead of resorting to diplomacy, Eszu and the Dracus joined in a twisted alliance with the Ogres of Black Bog, as well as Kuxori and Tepis rebels clinging to their old ways, and killed my Father. Just like that, as simple, and sudden as it seems, they turned their backs on us the second it was convenient for them.”

  “Those damn Dracus, I knew they could never be trusted!” Angry rumblings of the crowd grew louder with every word.

  “This same alliance sent a message—a letter read that my Father's death was only the beginning of our atonement,” Calaera took a breath. “There's no easy way for me to say this, and I can't afford to find a better way since we don't have the time, but without a doubt in my mind, this alliance is sure to attack Lyndenwell any day now.”

  The crowd's sadness and rage quickly reverted to silent nervousness. They felt as though Calaera read them their death sentence. They knew as well as Calaera they had no army.

  “I know it seems hopeless, and that it almost doesn't seem real. Just a few days ago, I was able to talk with my Father, and you all saw him leave for the Summit with your own eyes. Now we're being stabbed in the back, and forced into a fight we never could have predicted. We don't have time to think about this though—we don't have time to mourn and wait, because that is exactly what they want us to do,” Calaera gripped the railing tight, biting down in bottled up frustration. “They think us to be vulnerable and scared in a time of crisis. Perhaps others in Gamriss might be. Maybe another city would roll over, and cower before putting up a fight. But not us, not Lyndenwell.”

  The dejected in the crowd, drowned in confused hatred, and shadowy doubts felt a glimmer of hope inside of them beginning to sprout. Whatever it was, their gazes focused on Calaera—drawn to her presence above.

  “My father loved this city and every one of you in it, but more than that, he always believed you were the best of us—that you are all the shining standard to lead the rest of the world by example, and there's no better time than now to prove him right. Now more than ever we’re needed to be that same shining standard my father thought us all to be—to stand and fight against this alliance that wants to wedge a divide in all of us. And I know that none of you know me as you knew my Father, nor trust me in nearly the same way, if at all. I understand that. I understand your fear of putting your trust in someone like me who's proven nothing, other than my blood right. I don't expect you all to look at me as you did my father. So I won't ask for your trust and respect, but I ask you to give me the chance to earn it. I will do my best, and everything in my power to make sure these walls stand tall as they always have. As long as I am Queen, I will not let tyranny reign, and I will not let fear win out, no matter what I have to do. I refuse to let us lose.”

  Each and every citizen felt the same fire in Calaera that they saw in Dreymond. As distraught as they were losing their King, they could all only imagine what Calaera had been feeling ever seeing hearing the news, yet here she is, giving them all a reason to stay strong, and believe.

  “But I admit, I won't be able to do this on my own. I need your help, we all need each other's help. Everyone who can manage to fight, your city needs you now more than ever. Leaders, warriors—anyone who feels they can contribute to spearheading this defense, I need you to see me in the keep right away. “Please, lend me your strength, and I promise I will give you everything I have in return. All of it...”

  In a moment of pause the crowd threw their fists u
p in the air, teary-eyes, and arms shaking, but they all did it together. One by one, they all volunteered themselves. Shopkeepers, toymakers, anyone at all from all walks of life, as terrified as they are, they didn't waver. Not with resounding cheers, but in silent solidarity, they would make their stand.

  Chapter 22: Caden

  After a mostly restless night of sleep on the floor together, the sun arose on Qwayke. The steam with a yellow hue thanks to the sun spreading a warm glow all throughout the city, enshrouding the suffering down below in the quarry. They only managed to get a few hours of sleep at most, working through their plans most of the night.

  “Alright, that was great, time to get up and go!” Caden leaped up from the floor, the first awake as usual.

  “Shut up!” Zasha smacked Caden through a tired groan and messy hair she threw a hood over.

  “What, it's not my problem you're always grumpy in the morning.” Caden rubbed his throbbing head.

  “No, I get grumpy when the first thing I hear upon waking is your annoying voice ringing in my ears."

  Sappo, Snillrik, and Chryssa all blinked the lingering fatigue away, slumping over for a second to gather themselves while they wished some of Caden's energy could somehow rub off on them.

  “I have rising beans, if anyone wants any...” Chryssa said through a yawn, making her way over to the dingy counter, opening the curtains just a touch to let the sunlight in.

  “Yeah sure,” Caden said.

  “You don't need those, you're already awake enough.” Zasha pushed Caden out of the way to get herself some rising beans.

  Chryssa plucked one up to place in Zasha's open palm, when Zasha instead smacked Chryssa's open hand with a few beans in it—sending them into the air, and catching them all to consume for herself.

  “These will do fine.” Zasha took the three beans, swallowing them whole.

  Touted by merchants all over Gamriss, rising beans would shoot anyone awake, even after a total lack of sleep the night before. Taking too many, too regularly however has been proven to be detrimental, but of course, the wisest of merchants fail to remember divulging said information. Regardless, it was enough to get everyone other than Caden through the day ahead. Ensuring the first stages of their plans, they could use all the energy they can get.

  “So Zasha, Chryssa, and I are heading to the Inn?” Caden asked, clapping and rubbing his hands in eager anticipation.

  “Yes, while Sappo and I tend to making the device,” Snillrik acknowledged.

  “Are you sure you don't need anything else?” Chryssa asked.

  “What you've offered should suffice. We can't have a big catapult on the rooftop launching rubble, we would be found out before we even get started. There's plenty here for some sort of makeshift launcher...I think.” Snillrik scratched their chin in nervous, yet hopeful pondering.

  “Alright, well whatever you gotta do, I'm sure you two will figure it out.” Caden pumped his fist in hype, as if you could almost see the steam spouting out from his nose and ears. “Let's go talk to this Grumli guy then, and see if he can help us gather some help.”

  Caden left the door on his own, leaving the others behind.

  “You're not doing any of the talking. You're not messing this up too.” Zasha hurried to grab hold of his shirt, pulling him back so Caden wouldn't bolt off on his own.

  “I guess we're off,” Chryssa awkwardly waved. “Feel free to use anything here, anything at all.”

  Snillrik and Sappo nodded, waving back in splitting up. “I suppose we should get started, yes?”

  Sappo and Snillrik went down into the shallow basement, rummaging around for any parts they might find useful, while the others made their way to the Inn right upon opening hours.

  The three of them marched toward the Inn, Chryssa and Zasha keeping calm, and acting normal, while Caden had an extra spring in his already sprung step. Upon entering, everything was as it always was, nothing to be suspicious about. Most of the tables full, an array of people eating a modest, yet hearty breakfast of toast and eggs. Meanwhile, Grumli stood behind his little booth, tending to the needs of the room.

  “What're you doing with these adventurers, Chryssa?” Grumli spoke up first before they could sneak a word in.

  “Does everyone know we're adventurers?” Zasha muttered, darting her accusing eyes at an aloof Caden.

  “A Borean, Vessi, Ursine, and a dumbass kid who can't keep quiet. Pretty obvious if you ask me.” Grumli bit down on his pipe, leaning back in his chair without any urgency or care to his tone.

  “Guess we're getting a little famous, eh Zasha?” Caden grinned.

  “So, what're you doing with them?” Grumli's tone turned serious, with a hint of suspicion behind his quirking eyes.

  “I think you know why I'm here with them, Grumli,” Chryssa kept it as covert as possible.

  Grumli's eyes sharpened, looking Caden and Zasha up and down. “What happened to the others?”

  “They're—” Caden started to blurt out.

  “They're working on a part of a plan we have,” Chryssa kept her voice lowered, and leaned into the booth. “A plan to take Qwayke back, Grumli.”

  Grumli's eyes widened for a second in interest, but just as quickly hid his enthusiasm with an icy unimpressed gaze. “What can five of you do against Workal? If he wanted it, you five would be in mines right now.”

  “I wouldn't be risking myself, and potentially everyone else if I wasn't sure. And besides, this is the only chance we have to help everyone down there.” Chryssa gripped the edge of the counter, holding herself back from shouting out.

  Grumli didn't answer, but he could tell Chryssa was at least being honest. “If you've got a plan, what're you coming to me for?”

  “Because you're right, we can't do it with just the five of us,” Chryssa conceded. “And you're the only one who sees nearly everyone every single day. If anyone can spread the word, it's you, and we need to know who wants to help us, but we need to know soon.”

  “Even if we get everyone to help, we don't have much of a chance,” Grumli admitted through a tiresome puff of smoke.

  “Who cares how big a chance it is, when we finally at least have one,” Chryssa fired back. “I'm not going to let my parents die in those mines. So if you won't help us, we'll find another way.”

  “I never said I wouldn't help, just calm down,” Grumli groaned as he tapped his pipe out, and scratched his frizzled gray hair. “But I'm going to need to know what you actually want me to do.”

  Chryssa's face lit up at Grumli giving in, however reluctantly. “Spread the word it's time to take the fight to Workal.”

  Chryssa took out a piece of paper with Snillrik's scribbled messy writing all over the place.

  Grumli took the paper without any words exchanged, reading the plan Snillrik devised in hopes of Grumli accepting. It had everything there, meeting in the vent shaft with most of who can fight, while the others stay up top with Snillrik, and Sappo to distract and restrain the guards from helping out in the quarry. But Grumli plays a vital role. Snillrik wrote down that for every three people he sends to meet in the shafts, one stays up top to attack from the alleys.

  “Seems like this friend of yours thought of everything,” Grumli muttered. “It won't be hard to spread word about what's happening, but I'm not promising how many will want to actually fight. Everyone's already been through enough already. I can't blame them if they don't want to risk what little life they have left.”

  “If they don't want to fight for their home, they're cowards,” Zasha had no issue saying.

  Chryssa was about to get in Zasha's face, when Caden held his arm out to stop her.

  “You all still have a home to fight for, so take this chance before this place becomes something none of you can recognize. Because then it'll be too late.”

  Grumli averted his eyes. He knew Zasha was right, but the nerves inside him wouldn't subside regardless of her callous short-lived speech.

  “I'll do it, a
nd try to get as many as I can, but that's all I can say.” Grumli put the paper down underneath the counter.

  “Nice, we got his help!” Caden couldn't help himself, and stuck his hand out for Grumli to shake. “Then let's call ourselves allies.”

  “S-sure,” Grumli stammered, and shook Caden's hand—thrown off by his bright enthusiasm.

  The Inn's doors flew open to interrupt their meeting, shifting everyone's sights to see who slammed the doors against the walls. But when they saw a couple of guards, the air was sucked out of the room. Everyone looked away, trying to feign being busy with something, no matter how obviously fake.

  The two of them, wearing matching red tabards with a golden gavel as a crest, indicating them to be Judocus soldiers, and all of them equipped with leather armor, and work boots. They weren't high enough rank to have such fancy protection as others might, and against the villagers in Qwayke, they didn't need it. On their waists, a visibly threatening whip and sword on either side of them, wearing cocky grins walking through the Inn knowing the intimidation they exerted on everyone sitting on pins and needles.

  “Eh, two pints over here!” One of the guards shouted over to Grumli.

  “Just be ready for tomorrow night then if you're not full of it,” Grumli squeezed in one last word before going off to serve the two guards.

  “Come on, let's go back so we don't give rise to any suspicions,” Zasha suggested, leaning her head toward the doors.

  They stared daggers over at the guards talking among themselves with obnoxiously loud voices, making sure everyone eating their lunch would be hearing about their sick pleasures at the expense of their fellow villagers down in the quarry. None of them could do a thing about it though. They just sat there, and took their humiliating words, punching their guts.

  On the way out, Caden saw a young child take a piece of bread off their plate, and throw it over to hit one of the guards in the back of his head. The whole room turned pale, and silent. For a split second, the parents hoped the guard wouldn't feel it, but he turned his head the second it dropped onto the floor.