The Secrets of Brymar (The Elitherian Fragments Book 1)

by James Coy-Dibley

  They reached the small stables beside the inn, a simple patch of dark dirt surrounded by a wooden fence with a scrawny straw roof above it held by four old, thick posts. Four horses, three light brown and one black, stood around the hay barrels and water trough inside, uncomfortably shifting as they saw their riders. Aroden entered first, followed by the three brothers, and each of them stood beside their horse to untether them from the wooden fencing. They quickly packed their belongings onto the saddles and pouches on the sides of the horses.

  William affectionately hugged his black horse and patted the side of his neck. “I know you aren’t ready to go again, Windrunner,” he said calmly with another stroke, “but the journey is almost over, I promise.”

  “You’re talking to your horse again,” Max commented as he mounted his.

  “He understands what I’m saying, Max,” William countered. “He might not fully understand the words, but he sees the meaning in them. It’s all about tone.”

  Richard hopped onto his horse. “I believe it,” he said in William’s defence.

  “I do, too,” Max shrugged with a playful smile. He couldn’t resist going on about it. “But he’s still talking to a horse.”

  “I can’t explain it,” William continued to defend. “I feel a connection between myself and Windrunner, I always have. It’s like I can…understand him.”

  Max grinned even more in amusement.

  “Come,” Aroden interrupted as he jumped onto his large horse’s back. William hopped onto Windrunner and the three brothers waited for Aroden to lead them out. “The Arraci await us a short distance ahead,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He led them onto the road and out of Skee.

  The patter of horse hooves propelled clouds of dust from the dirt road behind them, coating their horses in a thin layer of it. They trotted briskly, but could tell the horses were still tired. The smell of dried sweat from the previous days’ rides lingered around them, an unpleasant smell unmasked and amplified by the chilly morning air.

  A short distance further ahead, they could see a little white tent standing next to the road with an area of trees behind it; the climate here gave rise to little vegetation, so any patches of trees relied on the small oases scattered around. They could discern a candle light flickering from inside the tent and noticed the thin streak of black smoke rising from an extinguished small fire outside. The candle inside painted a distinct, black shadow on the tent’s wall as the tall occupant passed in front of it. Along with the outline of the person, they noticed the large war axe attached at the side and a bow on the back. Armour made the shadow appear huge, and the helmet contorted the shadow even more.

  Arracian Watchers stood guard during the nights while the others rested, which accounted for the unusually thickened metal armour and grand physique. Only the strongest of warriors earned the prominent rank of Watcher; the order only established six Watchers, two of which joined this journey while three others stood watch on Brymar’s walls. They’d often alternate throughout the night, though at times they could guard through the entire night and then sleep during the day. Either way, they’d learned to function well without much rest and earned the respect of not only the Arracian Order, but the king himself.

  They stopped in front of the tent and the flame inside died out. A brutishly large man emerged from the tent’s entrance, wearing silver steel armour and an elaborately decorated bow and war axe. The glistening silver steel helmet matched the rest of his attire, and he appeared ready to charge into battle at a moment’s notice. But contrary to his appearance, he summoned a big, warm smile as he saw Aroden and the brothers, slightly bowing his head in respect to his king, followed by a quick wave to the rest of them.

  “Good morning, Orthol,” Aroden said.

  “Good morning, my king. You are ready to leave,” Orthol assumed and Aroden nodded. “I’ll call the others then.”

  Shortly after releasing a high pitch call, a similar one responded from within the small oasis, followed by the rustling of leaves until several others emerged. They wore similar attire, all with a bow and quiver on their backs and a second weapon of choice on their waists, either a sword, axe, or similar blade. A few bore heavier versions of armour while others opted for lighter ones, but all of them proudly bore the crest of the Arracian Order upon the chest-plate of their armour with a black cloak over top, the hood covering many of their faces. Their true Arracian armour was left in Brymar; it would’ve been too conspicuous out here, while the crest on their fronts could easily be masked. Many times had the Arraci defended these parts of the kingdom, and the people would recognise their crescent, silvery light green signature garbs on first glance.

  Two Arraci, the leaders of the order, stood in front of the others. Upon their backs were ornately carved bows and a quiver full of arrows, all of them with the characteristic Arracian orange feathers along their light brown shafts. Attached to their belts were white-stone horns, those specific to the Arracian order, though neither had seen use for over a decade by now. The time had yet to come where the Arracian leaders or Watchers had to call for aid, not since that fateful night in the palace.

  The two stood beside one another, both of them wearing an elaborately decorated golden ring, the ring of the Arracian Order. But only these two and the royal family wore a golden one, the rest of the Arraci adopting the silver version of it. The two approached Aroden and stopped beside his horse, briefly gesturing to the rest of the entourage before focusing on him.

  “You come earlier than usual,” one of them said as he focused on Aroden.

  “We continue to Orwell, Brian,” Aroden said. “I’d like to be there before midday if we hasten.”

  “We can do that,” Brian nodded, his striking, dark blue eyes attentively looking into Aroden’s. “We’re ready to leave right away.” He motioned to the Watcher to pack up the tent and for the others to return to the trees. “I had a feeling you’d want to leave earlier than usual.”

  “Your instincts are seldom wrong,” Aroden replied.

  Brian smiled in response and turned to leave. “We’ll meet you further down the road, then. Our scouts have already searched the area.”

  “Good.”

  “Does Zed know we arrive today?” Adriana asked from beside her twin brother, causing Brian to stop and turn for an answer.

  Aroden shook his head. “This is an unscheduled visit. I suspect he’ll be surprised to see us arriving in Orwell so soon.” His horse pawed the ground impatiently. “Make sure everyone makes it into the city safely and bring more Arraci inside than usual.”

  “Very well,” Adriana said, flashing a glance at Max.

  The two exchanged a shallow smile. Her long blonde hair was dirtied from the journey, and several streaks of dirt crossed her light-skinned face. She shared equally striking blue eyes with her brother, hers a bit lighter than his, and stood at almost the same height. The twins hurried back into the grove while Aroden led his sons further down the dirt road.

  The Arraci often used this patch of trees to conceal their presence in the area. It provided a perfect vantage point for the open expanse of land leading to Orwell, and they could see the inn of Skee, too; they’d performed scouting runs in the earliest hours of the morning to ensure safe passage to the city, much like they’d always done on the journeys before this one.

  “Adriana and Brian brought more Arraci than usual,” Max commented. “They have at least fifty of them travelling with us.”

  “Yes. Like I was telling Porter, these lands are more dangerous nowadays. The twins insisted we bring a larger cohort of warriors for protection, and I rarely disagree with them.” Aroden paused. “They still have most of their forces in Brymar, though.”

  “Their ranks never seem to stop growing,” William spoke up.

  “It’s impressive, isn’t it?” Aroden said, and his sons nodded.

  They trotted down the road into more open ground, where vast short grasslands extended towards the horizon until re
aching trees and three mountains in the far distance. With no civilization in view around them, the only sound that pierced the silence was the clomping of the horses’ hooves on the dirt road. The grand walls of Orwell would soon appear in the distance, and their journey would finally end.

  William rode beside Max and called up to his father. “So what are the details?” He could see his father nod. “Why are we going to Orwell so quickly?”

  “I recently received a message from Zed.”

  The brothers waited for their father to elaborate.

  “He says that he’s found someone who can transcribe the unknown texts from Brymar. He feels good about this one.”

  “And we haven’t heard that before,” Max jibed.

  “Who’s the person?” William asked.

  “A new traveller to the city, that’s all Zed said in the message.”

  “That’s very little information to go off of,” Max pointed out with tangible concern. “Have the Arraci vetted this traveller yet?”

  “No, but they will, Max.” Aroden paused, sensing his son’s reservation. “That’s also why we brought so many Arraci on this journey.”

  “It sounds like an unnecessary risk to me,” Max concluded.

  “Or it could be an opportunity to bring us closer to regaining the kingdom’s capital, our home,” Aroden firmly countered, “to walk the streets of our great city and return to our rightful throne.”

  “I understand that, father, but this all seems rushed to me.”

  “The Arraci will watch over the whole thing. We just need to know if it’s true, Max, whether this person can truly read the forgotten texts of Brymar. You know of the secrets in that fortress, you know that there is more to that place than we can fathom. Perhaps if we could read the texts, then we may uncover something that can help us.”

  “Are you honestly referring to the treasure again?” Max sighed. “We’ve talked about this, we all have.”

  “Yes, I am talking about the treasure,” Aroden angrily asserted.

  “We aren’t even sure if it exists,” William mumbled, though he quickly withdrew again from the conversation after feeling his father’s angry glare.

  “But we must still try,” Aroden continued. “At this point, we must try everything. And besides, even if there’s no treasure, at least we might learn more about the previous occupants of Brymar and their fate. That in itself is a mystery I’d like to solve, and if this traveller can speak the language, then that’s an opportunity I’m not willing to let pass.”

  William pondered his father’s words, as did Max. When the fortress was first found a few decades ago, nothing remained but lifeless corridors and a cold forge below. The place offered no indication or clues as to where the previous inhabitants went or their fate, but no corpses or skeletons were left behind either. A shell of a fortress was open for the taking, and Aroden gladly took it. Nature couldn’t have formed Brymar; it’s intricately weaved passages through the single host mountain led all the way to the peak and far beneath the mountain, too. The architecture far surpassed any of the surrounding kingdoms, and it proved to be a very strategic location between the kingdom’s capital, Criton, and the city of Orwell.

  Even the kingdom’s most masterful scholars couldn’t decipher the texts in Brymar, nor could any scholars from anywhere else – they couldn’t even identify the language of the inscriptions across the walls. But one thing of interest that the soldiers found was a thick book set upon a podium at the summit of the fortress, so high that the very clouds circulated through the hallways. After opening the book, whose time-worn, faded pages were covered in ancient texts and illustrations, a huge, heavy thick key made of pure gold fell onto the ground. Aroden had yet to find a use for the key, though where a key existed so too must a lock. William understood his father’s burning desire to find out more about the fortress; surely such a grand key would open an equally impressive lock. Perhaps this person could help them find it.

  “I hope he can answer our questions,” William added in support of his father. He could feel Max’s frustrated glare from the encouragement and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s worth a try, right?”

  “Still an unnecessary risk,” Max repeated.

  The sound of galloping horses striking the hard dirt road vibrated around them; the Arraci approached from behind, the twins leading with their majestic white horses. Brian reached them first – it appeared the twins were racing, as usual – and passed Richard at speed. Brian continued to pass Max and William, uttering a quick greeting to them, until reaching Aroden at the front.

  Adriana remained at the back, behind Richard, with the rest of the Arraci following far behind her on their strong, well-conditioned horses. They would slowly catch up to avoid suspicion; after all, an army of horses would hardly pass as inconspicuous. Because of the discreet nature of this journey, most of the Arraci travelled in pairs on the horses; hiding a person was easy, but the same couldn’t be said about a horse. Brian slowed to a trot beside Aroden, his brilliant white steed prancing alongside the king’s.

  “I apologise for the delay. Our horses hesitated when leaving so early this morning,” Brian said.

  “As did ours,” Aroden nodded.

  “But we should reach Orwell before midday at this rate.”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll follow the usual plan. I’ll lead many of the Arraci into the city through the underground caverns and move through Zed’s house, setting up the standard scouting positions and preparing for you to enter through the main gates. Adriana will remain with you for protection, and we will meet inside the city walls.”

  “I will go directly to Zed’s place,” Aroden said, “while the others go to the safe house.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Max asserted from behind. “I want to hear what he says about this traveller he’s found.”

  Aroden hesitated before answering, but heard the conviction in his son’s voice. “Fine, Max, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to also hear what he has to say.” He turned to Brian again. “We’ll meet with Zed while William and Richard go to the safe house.”

  “We will plan accordingly, then,” Brian assured. “I’ll remain in the markets and watch guard from out there while William and Richard are escorted to the house.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll see you inside the walls,” Brian said before galloping forward, his arm slightly raised for the other Arraci to follow.

  The Arracian horses charged past, galloping into the distance with Brian at the front. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this trip, and it wouldn’t be the last. By now the Arraci knew the drill, as did Aroden and his sons. These parts of the world didn’t take too kindly to strangers, so the twins planned everything out the whole way. Their dictum was simple: at no point should Aroden or the sons travel without an Arracian escort. There were other rules, too, which took into account rank within the order and skill sets, but only the order really understood them. William and Max had never asked for the more complicated inner workings of the Arracian Order – and, of course, Richard wouldn’t either.

  “Why don’t we pass through the caverns, too?” William asked. “We wouldn’t have to risk going through the front gates if we went with the Arraci.”

  “Because the caverns are a dangerous place,” Aroden answered with a frown. “I wouldn’t risk us traveling through the caverns if I don’t have to. It’s much safer for us to pass through the city gates than go down there.”

  “I understand,” William nodded. He thought quietly to himself. “Those caverns baffle me,” he said. “It seems they extend endlessly under these lands.”

  “Yes, no one actually knows how far they go,” Max shrugged. “I know that new routes are found every day. There are many merchants in Orwell that try to use secret routes to smuggle goods into the city without paying taxes.”

  “Doesn’t Zed do that?”

  “Yes,” Max nodded with a grin.

  “Well, why hasn’t the
city explored the caverns more?”

  “Too many people died trying to map them out,” Aroden interjected. “The caverns are a perilous, full of endless pits, pitch blackness, and who knows what else. That’s why we enter through the front gate of the city, where we can see what’s in front of us.”

  William nodded, dropping the subject.

  They travelled through the boring stretch of vast, tedious final parts of the journey. One could see for miles in all directions, but one wouldn’t see much. Aside from the occasional random inn or deserted farm, only sparse, dry vegetation peaked above the desolate land. Dead, that was the best way to describe the area. The only life one would see were any travellers passing through or a random small scrap of vegetation surrounding a small oasis. Otherwise, the hot sun rendered this area wholly uninhabitable. They could barely discern the Artelian Forest lining the horizon ahead, interrupted only by the three mountains that loomed behind the city of Orwell.

  Aroden stared into the distance in the hopes of seeing the city walls, though an irritating haze still blocked the city from focus. No one uttered a word, too tired from the journey. William patted his horse’s sweat-drenched neck and leaned in to utter a few comforting words to Windrunner while Max decided to do the same for his own horse. Richard rode at the back, but in front of Adriana, paying little attention to anything as his horse blindly followed the others. But Richard finally let out a groan and sighed.

  “How much longer?” he said to break the silence. “I’m so tired I might fall off this horse.”

  Max laughed, as did William, recalling their conversation from earlier. Max turned to face his brother. “How do you think your horse feels?”

  Richard sighed disapprovingly.

  “Not long,” Aroden called back before Richard could complain, “I can see the farms ahead.”

  Within a few miles the glistening walls of the city finally emerged from the background. The surrounding area gradually changed from an obsolete, deserted wasteland to modest fields of crops and small communities. Orwell’s abundant supply of underground water increasingly transformed the terrain into one of fertility and life, albeit still with the challenges of the harsh environment.