The Secrets of Brymar (The Elitherian Fragments Book 1)

by James Coy-Dibley

  William stepped over one of the village drunks, noticing one of the buckets of water to be half-empty, and sat on a small wooden chair beside the fire. He extended his hands out for the radiated heat and watched the crackling flame overtop one of the burnt logs, its yellow light mesmerizing to watch as the flames danced in the light draft from beneath the front door. The smoky smell reminded him of Brymar’s grand hall, its high ceilings and beautiful, enigmatic carvings along the ancient interiors. It brought comfort for him to think of home, the brilliant fire burning at the centre to fend off the same cold nights as in Skee.

  His father emerged first, dressed in comfortable, thick dark green robes and leather shoes with his sword securely strapped to his waist. He always had the ornate golden sword beside him, even as he slept it seemed, but given his past experiences this came as no surprise. Even Max did the same, as did William most of the time, though his sword currently rested against a wall inside his bedroom. This inn was a safe haven with no need for a sword; it always had been. But Aroden still kept his blade strapped to his side and fiddled with it as he strutted into the hall with restless eyes. He glanced at William with a warm, fatigued smile, his pale skin and wrinkles deepening with each movement of his face.

  “You’re up very early,” he commented while he raised a hand to stroke his thin, grey beard in contemplation as he approached. He took a seat by the fire, quickly tightening his thick green robe around him, and extended his hands towards the fire. “No doubt your younger brother will take eons to rise.”

  “As usual,” William said with a grin. “Waking Richard up ought to be a challenge for Max. It usually is.”

  But Max walked out of the guest quarters with a victorious grin. “Look who I found wandering the halls,” he said while pointing behind him.

  Richard, a short, thin boy with light brown hair and matching brown eyes, stood in the doorway and stretched his arms with a groan. He didn’t wear his usual sleeping attire, but rather day clothes, a simple, slightly dirtied white shirt and black trousers covering his lanky body beneath. On his feet he wore dark leather shoes, deep creases on the tops indicating their frequent, worn-out use. He was more ready than the rest and grinned as he approached the fire, clearly noticing their surprise. He sat beside William and warmed his hands.

  “Are we almost ready to leave?” he asked excitedly.

  “What a surprise,” Aroden chuckled to himself. “You just might see the sun rise for once.”

  “I’ve seen the sun rise,” he disapprovingly retorted.

  “Have you really?” William jumped in with a grin. “Are you sure you’re not confusing it with the sunset?”

  Richard didn’t respond but gave his brother an angry glare.

  “That’s enough,” Max called out. “Give the boy a break.”

  “I’m not just a boy anymore, Max,” Richard begrudgingly corrected. “I’m sixteen now.”

  Max didn’t respond, nor did the others.

  “What’s for breakfast?” Richard sighed to change the subject. “I feel like we haven’t eaten during this whole journey, and I’m starving.”

  “Now that’s more like you,” William smiled, giving his brother a friendly pat on the shoulder.

  “Bread and eggs,” their father responded, “just like always when we’re here.”

  “And then we’ll be leaving, right?”

  “Why are you so excited to leave little brother?” William asked.

  “The alchemist of Forelorne agreed to show me a new technique the next time I visit him.”

  “Oh he did?”

  “Yes,” Richard affirmed with excitement. “I was told it would be a powerful healing remedy,” he added. “He’s a very good teacher, you know. I always learn a lot from him.”

  Max contorted his face and shifted uncomfortably. “Altering reality with herbs and other odd mixtures,” he spoke up. “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, you don’t understand it, do you?” Richard defended.

  “I think it’s a good thing,” William added, nudging his older brother, “a better pastime than others to occupy his free time. He could’ve chosen worse things to do.”

  Max couldn’t argue with that.

  “I agree,” Aroden spoke up. “And the alchemist back at home has certainly learned a lot from him because of it.” He directed his attention to Richard. “You might as well be the master alchemist of Brymar considering you teach him new concoctions and techniques every time you’ve met with your mentor.”

  Richard’s eyes lit up. “The last year of study has certainly paid off. Our master alchemist can’t teach me anymore anyway, and we don’t have many books on alchemy. I’ve been lucky to find a teacher in Forelorne.”

  “How did you find him?” Max asked.

  “Actually, he found me,” Richard answered. “I was reading an alchemy book in Orwell’s great library…”

  “He approached you?” Max interjected.

  “Yes,” Richard nodded, brushing off Max’s concern. “He asked if I liked alchemy and then offered to teach me a few things. Apparently finding an apprentice in the craft is rare these days.”

  “That’s odd,” William shrugged.

  Aroden laughed, brushing off the others’ concern. “That day was the first time I saw Richard excited about anything, and I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass.” He paused, seeing Max’s continued disapproval. “Well, of course, we vetted that the man was safe before Richard met him in Forelorne.”

  But Max still appeared uneasy about it.

  The savoury scent of freshly baked bread interrupted their conversation as the plump innkeeper, Porter, appeared from behind the front counter. He spotted them and gave a shallow wave before returning to his private quarters, emerging shortly after with his hands filled with a large, round metal pot in one hand and a long loaf of bread on top of several metal plates in the other. Max stood to help, as did William, but Porter shook his head and motioned for them to sit again. He moved quickly towards them, stopping beside the fire with a warm grin behind his bushy red beard.

  “Breakfast from the missus, Aroden,” he smiled, but it faded as he looked down at the two drunken patrons lying on the floor. “I’m so sorry for these two, here.” He kicked them in the leg until both of them grudgingly woke up. “Out!” he demanded. “Go on; don’t make me fetch your parents again!”

  They reluctantly stumbled out of the inn.

  “Again, sorry about that; those two are found in here quite often.”

  “No need to apologise,” Aroden answered while he and his sons stared at the loaf of bread and the pot.

  “It’s the usual bread and eggs,” Porter announced.

  After passing out the plates, he wiped the sweat from his brow and patted his protruding stomach. “I can bring more out if you’re still hungry after this.”

  “It’s perfect,” Aroden grinned. They all broke off a large piece of the bread and enthusiastically grabbed a ladle full of eggs, as if it were a feast fit for a king, until the pot was empty.

  “I’ll bring some more, then,” Porter smiled, looking into the empty pot. “Besides, I forgot to bring the cutlery out.”

  “Thank you, Porter,” Aroden said and the others mumbled the same.

  “Of course,” he responded giddily. “I’ve also made some ham. We have to take care of our most treasured patrons, don’t we?”

  Aroden smiled. “You always do.”

  They didn’t really need the cutlery as they scooped the eggs with each chunk of bread. And considering the hunger they felt, by the time Porter returned with the forks and knives, most of them had already finished their food. Porter brought more eggs and passed them around, along with another loaf of fresh bread. This food was the first real food they’d enjoyed since the early hours of yesterday, but even that was stored food from Brymar. While most of them savoured each bite, Richard shovelled it in and gladly accepted more bread and eggs.

  “I’ll be right back with the ham, too,”
Porter said while taking back the second empty pot of eggs.

  “Thank you,” they all mumbled.

  Max turned to the youngest. “Slow down, Richard,” he said as he witnessed Richard inhaling his food.

  “I’m starving,” he complained.

  “But you don’t know when the next cooked meal will come,” Max pointed out. “You should enjoy it.”

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Aroden smiled. “The boy could use some more food,” he said and pointed to Richard’s lanky body. “It’ll be good for him.”

  Richard, infuriated by his father’s use of the word ‘boy,’ ignored all of them and finished his food.

  Porter returned with a plate of steaming, freshly cooked, salted ham and a huge grin on his face. “Here we are,” he said as everyone took a piece. “Here’s that ham I promised.”

  “This is very kind of you,” Aroden said as he gladly accepted the meat.

  “Well, it’s my pleasure,” Porter responded. “Orwell may be close, but you still have quite a journey ahead of you. The missus wouldn’t let you leave without a full stomach. You know how she is,” he solemnly smiled.

  “Pass along our gratitude,” Aroden said before taking a piece of ham. “Because of you we pass safely through these lands, a service not lightly forgotten.”

  “For all of you we’d do anything,” he said quietly under his breath. “I’ll pass your kind words to the missus and be back to collect your empty plates shortly.”

  They finished quickly. Richard sat still, a content smile across his face and a hand over his stomach, a gesture shared by his other two brothers. But Aroden sat in a pensive trance as he stared into the fire, his gaze fixated on the fluttering yellow flames and his brow creased. He finished his food last, putting his plate on the small wooden table beside the chairs, and sighed.

  “We should leave soon,” he said, preparing to stand up. “I want to be in Orwell before midday.”

  “Why do we travel to Orwell so quickly?” William confronted. “This is the first time we’ve had a chance to sit together, and you haven’t told us much about why we’re making this journey in the first place.”

  Aroden hesitated. “You’ll have your answer soon,” he promised. “I wanted to make sure it was worth telling first.”

  “I think I’d like to know now,” William declared. “We’ve never skipped the village of Noteral before on our way to Orwell, so why such haste?”

  Max chimed in. “It would be nice to know why the urgency,” he added.

  Aroden reluctantly nodded, leaning slightly forward towards them and speaking with a quiet voice. “We think we’ve finally found someone to decipher the ancient texts of Brymar,” Aroden answered, “someone who may finally be able to change our fortunes.”

  William’s eyes widened. “How did you find this person?” he asked. “You’ve been searching for decades now. Do you know if it’s true?”

  Aroden shook his head. “I’ll tell you the details on the road, you have my word. But this could change everything, William, everything.” He stood up, stretching his legs before moving towards the sleeping quarters. “It’s time to finish our journey to Orwell,” he said before passing into the guest quarters.

  Richard, who was paying little attention to the conversation, lightly sighed and slowly stood up, taking a brief stretch before shuffling over to the back of the room. “I doubt it’ll be the right person,” he muttered under his breath as he passed through the door. “It never is.”

  William and Max remained by the fire, both of them unsatisfied with their father’s answer. Max finally shrugged and patted his brother on the shoulder before standing. “Come on, William. The sooner we leave, the sooner we find out more about this person father has found.”

  “Do you think it’s true?” William asked before his brother could pass through the back door.

  Max shrugged. “We’ll have to find out.”

  Chapter II

  Aroden waited in the inn’s front hall, pacing back and forth with a small leather bag strapped across his front and his sword hanging by his side.

  “Is everything alright?” Porter asked from behind the counter.

  “Yes,” Aroden replied, “just a lot to think about.”

  Porter watched him continue pacing in front of him. “You seem to be leaving in quite the rush.”

  “And for a good reason, I hope,” Aroden said, his hands never at rest as he patted the handle of his sword. He could see Porter’s raised brow. “That’s not the only reason though. The number of safe havens along the way to Orwell seems to constantly wane, forcing these journeys to be much shorter than usual. This inn is one of the few remaining safe places for us outside of Brymar.”

  “And it always will be,” Porter proudly asserted. He shook his head and sighed. “Now that just sickens me to hear. I can’t imagine the people of the kingdom would turn a blind eye to their true ki…”

  “It’s not the people,” Aroden interjected, cutting off Porter’s misdirected outrage. “It seems these lands grow more treacherous by the day. The war with the neighbouring Navarine Kingdom rages on, reports have surfaced on insurgent Lorken tribes plaguing the lands to the South, and an air of disquiet has swept through much of the old kingdom for unknown reasons. Something has changed around here, Porter, and not for the better.”

  He didn’t respond, digesting the alarming information.

  “But I digress, as Skee is always a haven,” Aroden diverted, shaking his head and returning to his pacing.

  “He always paces,” William said to Porter as he entered from the guest quarters, carrying his own small leather bag and wearing the same clothes, “and he’s made it so that Max does it, too.”

  Aroden nodded with a faint smile.

  William dropped his bag on a chair by the fire and looked to his father. “You were ready quickly.”

  “I gathered my things before breakfast. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Me either,” William said. “I could hear wolves howling.”

  “Oh, the howls keep me awake all the time,” Porter blurted out, his tone souring. “We never used to hear wolves around here, but now that’s all we hear at night, all of them howling away like no one’s trying to sleep. It drives the missus absolutely mad!”

  “Wolves,” Aroden repeated as he focused on Porter. “I don’t remember there being wolves in the North.”

  “There didn’t used to be any. I don’t see how they survive in these lands.”

  “Strange,” Aroden thought to himself while Porter continued to angrily grumble to himself. He noticed Richard come out with Max walking beside him. “Are the two of you ready to leave?”

  “Yes,” Richard firmly declared, and Max nodded behind him. “I’m definitely ready for this journey to be over.”

  “I think we all are,” Aroden agreed. The three brothers held their bags and moved towards the front of the inn. Aroden approached the front counter, briefly running his hand over the rough surface. “Thank you, Porter,” he said as he reached into a pocket in his robes. He withdrew a pouch that jingled with the clattering of metal coins and extended it to him. “Here’s a little extra. It should also cover the additional ham you provided, as I know that wasn’t a cheap accommodation.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Porter asserted as he took the pouch of coins. “Your visits keep this inn afloat, perhaps the entire town.”

  “Times are that hard here?” Aroden asked.

  “Oh, yes. No aide comes from any other towns or cities, least of all from the capital.” He motioned towards the coins. “Without your journeys to Orwell, I’m not sure Skee would even survive.”

  Aroden nodded. “We’ve all heard similar whispers from other towns, too.”

  Porter held up the bag of coins. “This will go a long way.”

  “And as always, our visit never happened,” Aroden asserted.

  “Of course, my king,” Porter whispered, “your secret is always safe with us. Safe travels to yo
u all and looking forward to seeing you again.”

  They left the inn, each of them bidding Porter farewell, and made their way to Skee’s small stables where their horses had rested. The sun had finally cleared the horizon; it wouldn’t be long until the brisk morning air would be replaced by the merciless heat of the day. They’d be traveling directly into the sun on the way to Orwell, but they would be behind the city’s tall walls before the midday heat peaked. William walked beside Max while Richard trailed behind them.

  “I like Porter” Max said to his father, who walked ahead. “He does a very fine job here with his wife.”

  “Yes, he does,” Aroden agreed. “Porter’s a good man. I’ve known him for a long time.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Max said.

  “He owned an inn at our capital city, quite a successful one, too; I’d even say it was the best one in Criton.” He smiled as he reminisced. “His wife, Bridget, ran it for the most part, but Porter helped when he could.”

  “Why’d they leave the capital?”

  “He and his wife fled like many others after the usurpation in Criton.” He paused as he thought of that tormenting night in the palace. “They wanted to set up an inn inside Orwell, but the city government denied them. They settled on Skee instead.”

  “An impressive undertaking,” Max stated, recognising Aroden’s hidden grief as he’d brought up that night in the palace. “And I’m certainly glad that he did.”

  “As am I,” Aroden said.

  “I’m surprised we didn’t see Bridget,” William commented. “She’s always so nice to us when we visit.”

  Aroden nodded as he thought out loud. “Yes, it has been a while since we last saw her. She’s probably busy keeping this whole place functional, making sure Porter doesn’t burn it down.” He paused, still nodding. “But we will be sure to see her on our way back.”