The Secrets of Brymar (The Elitherian Fragments Book 1)

by James Coy-Dibley

  “Come, Max,” Aroden said, stepping up the pace to take the lead into the markets, “we must speak with Zed.”

  “Will he even be awake at this time?”

  “If he isn’t, then we’ll wake him up,” Aroden firmly answered.

  They talked while veering to the left side of the avenue towards the buildings. William noticed a couple of familiar faces walk past them. It was the Arraci, walking among the general public in the guise of peasants or buyers. They wore inconspicuous clothes and blended in surprisingly well. Some wore cloaks, others wore simple shirts and trousers, and some of the women even wore dresses – the only time they’d ever wear simple dresses. But even with the ‘normal’ clothes, every one of them still carried a concealed weapon of some kind, either a blade or their bow beneath their cloaks. They had this routine perfected by now.

  Aroden stopped in front of a shop, its stone portico simple and functional. Above the dark, wooden door was a sign with the word butcher ornately carved into the stone. Thick metal bars covered the single window on the side of the building, much like all of the windows in this district. But this city never saw thievery. Being caught merited being killed on the spot. There were no fair trials here, only crude justice by the city guards; this place certainly hadn’t survived the ages for being civil.

  They stood at the base of the small, paved steps leading up and Aroden turned around to face his sons. “Good, we are all safely through,” he said to himself.

  “We’ll go to the house, then,” William said before his father could continue.

  “Yes.”

  “What about traveling to Forelorne?” Richard complained again, this time standing his ground. “We’re in the city with the Arraci now. There’s no point in me going all the way to the house and then leaving again.”

  Aroden angrily sighed. “Wait until the Arraci can accompany you. Be patient.” He raised a hand to silence Richard’s response. “There are greater things at play here, and we can’t have any distractions. We must be cautious with this traveller.”

  “So I’ll stay with you,” Adriana assumed.

  Aroden thought about it. “I suspect Brian is somewhere around here watching us, but yes, it would be best if both of you are around when we meet this traveller.”

  Adriana spotted her brother approaching them from a small crowd of people. “He’s actually coming to us now.” She looked back to the brothers and then back to Aroden. “William and Richard will be accompanied to the house by the Arraci, even if they don’t see it,” she assured.

  “Very well, off with the two of you then and be safe.”

  “We will, father,” William said, but Richard remained quiet.

  They walked away as the others ascended the stairs to Zed’s place; Brian joined the others shortly afterwards, the four of them likely talking about the upcoming meeting with the traveller. But William tried not to think about it. He wanted to enjoy this trip to Orwell, find some peace of mind away from Brymar.

  Aroden owned a house on the second level of the city. Technically in the name of a loyal servant in Brymar – of course, they couldn’t put the house in the name of Aroden or his sons – they used the house whenever they visited Orwell. Located on the second level, in Orwell’s major residential district – the Caisen District – it served as a safe haven and a meeting place during each trip. The brothers had walked there many times as Aroden often told them to wait there while he conducted his errands.

  William didn’t mind; he could enjoy the architecture of the city while they walked to the house. And it was a safe place, after all. Richard, however, was upset about going to the house this time – more so than usual. He kept his arms folded, grunting after almost every step. William tried to ignore his mumblings and led them away. At the far side of the market stood a large staircase leading to the second level; he made it to the base of the first step before noticing that Richard had stopped walking. He turned around to see his disgruntled brother.

  “I’m going to Forelorne,” Richard asserted. “It’s only a few miles away. I’m tired of father treating me like a boy and not a man.”

  “He has our best interest in mind, Richard,” William defended calmly. “And you are a boy. You’re only sixteen years old.”

  “Father took the throne at the age of twelve!” he scoffed, though he lowered his voice after looking around.

  “But he had an entire court to guide him, not to mention his family.” William took a step towards his brother. “Come on, little brother. It’s not worth the risk. You were too young when it all happened to understand the danger.”

  Richard angrily shrugged off the remark. “You always use that argument. I wasn’t that young when it happened. I do remember that night, William.”

  “Richard…”

  “No. You and Max always poke fun at me, and I’m sick of it. I’m ready to be treated like a man.”

  William sighed. “You can’t travel to Forelorne, little brother.”

  “I need you to believe in me, William,” Richard begged, taking a more diplomatic approach. William paused for too long, which his brother perceived as his stance wavering. “You’re the only one in the family that ever would.”

  William still said nothing, unsure of how to react.

  “I would be back before nightfall, you know that.” He paused, his fists clenched and eyebrows lowered. “You know how close Forelorne is, and you know it can be done. We haven’t heard of any dangers around this area for decades. For once, just give me a chance, William; I really need a chance to prove I’m not just a boy.”

  William thought to himself. He hated the idea. It was a terrible idea. And the potential ramifications blotted out any possible good that could come from it. Richard never travelled the roads alone; in fact, none of them could travel the roads alone; not even Aroden would do that. The Arracian dictum prohibited it. But perhaps this was his chance to mature a bit. Aroden did treat him like a child, and William knew how much this upset his little brother. He didn’t give Richard the freedom William and Max enjoyed at an early age, a shift obviously stemming from the dethroning of their father. And nobody seemed to believe Richard could cope with situations of conflict. Perhaps giving a guise of independence would do his brother some good.

  “Fine,” William said, staring directly into his brother’s eyes. He pointed at him. “But don’t do anything careless, Richard. Remember the routine we follow with the stables, and be back before nightfall. Don’t make me regret this.”

  “You can’t tell father,” Richard said.

  “I know…”

  “So you won’t say anything to him about it?”

  “Are you listening to me? I’m telling you not to be rash, and you’re busy making sure I don’t tell father about this.”

  “I listened…”

  William shook his head. “Be careful, little brother, and use your head before you use your sword.”

  “I will,” Richard said as he turned, “father always tells us that. I’ll leave immediately and show you what I learned when I come back.”

  He walked away and William watched him as he approached the front gates, masked from the view of their father, Max, and the twins by the stalls along the centre of the markets. The number of things that could go wrong almost crippled his mind. As Richard passed through the lightly crowded marketplace, William saw a few concerned glances from fellow Arraci as his brother prepared to leave the city. William gestured for two to follow his brother, Orthol and Gringal, two of the Aracci’s veteran Watchers and Richard’s personal Arracian guards. The two shadowy figures walked closely behind him undetected. Of course Richard would be escorted by the Arraci, fulfilling the Arracian dictum. It would’ve been foolish to allow his little brother to travel unaccompanied. Richard would have to understand. But as William watched his little brother walk through the gates and out of view, he could only hope that his decision wasn’t a foolish one.

  But it was too late to change it now.

 
Chapter IV

  William redirected his attention to the set of marble steps leading to the second level of Orwell. He tried to justify Richard’s departure but struggled; his brother had always been slightly less mature than he or Max – and everyone knew it. It’s probably why Aroden treated him more like a child at times. But their father did ascend the throne at a younger age, and perhaps Richard was babied too much. The road to Forelorne had never presented any danger thus far; Richard would be fine.

  As William ascended the grand marble steps, a few other Aracci indicated concern, but they couldn’t do anything about it. If Richard wanted to leave, there wasn’t anything stopping him. It’s not like William could’ve dragged Richard to the house or have changed his mind. But one of the Arraci finally approached him.

  William shook his head before she could speak. “He was determined,” he told her as the two ascended the steps together. “I couldn’t stop him.”

  “We should tell…”

  “Not this time,” William interrupted, shaking his head. “Give my brother a chance. He has Orthol and Gringal with him.” He sighed. “I know my father wanted us to stay in the city, but technically Richard’s journey is like any other he’s taken to Forelorne just with fewer guards. It still adheres to the Arracian dictum.” He paused, thinking of the twins, knowing that if they found out about Richard leaving, they’d likely leave the city and drag Richard back themselves. “Inform the other Arraci, except for Brian and Adriana, of course.”

  “Very well,” the Arracian uneasily acknowledged before staying behind on the steps. After all, the Arraci took orders from all of the royal family.

  William was determined to try and enjoy this visit, as this was the first time they’d been outside of the walls of Brymar for quite a long time now. Though home was safe, a luxury not lost to him or anyone else, it became claustrophobic after staying there for a month straight with no sense of adventure and the monotony of the passing days. William wanted to see other people and places. He wanted to live a little, just like his brother did in Forelorne. Simply walking up these smooth marble stairs was a welcome change from the norm.

  The city’s architecture always impressed him; the attention to detail and immaculate upkeep made this the cleanest city he’d ever visited. It seemed that even time was no match for Orwell. An impressive white archway stood at the top of the steps, ornately decorated with silver and gold linings depicting the outlines of large winged beasts and their riders. They wielded long swords and bows and supposedly represented a time well-before most current day kingdoms.

  Orwell had outlived all of them; no one truly knew the age of the city or why it had never expanded into an empire. These questions would be answered by the publically absent government on the fifth level. But this archway wasn’t the only place where these beasts lurked; other structures, including the outer walls, had the same creatures and riders. They must have helped shape the Orwell today, but William wondered where they’d gone.

  He took a moment to admire the detail and mastery in the stonework required to erect such a magnificent archway, running his hand along the smooth surface and feeling each marking carefully ingrained into the stone. It seemed that current day cities never boasted such works; then again, they’d often be destroyed and rebuilt, so perhaps the explanation was because cities were built with pragmatic leaders rather than masterful craftsmen. Past the archway was a small courtyard with a large fountain at the centre and three sets of marble staircases behind it. This place marked a crossroads between the first level and the three second level districts, a sort of middle ground both in location and in height.

  The day approached midday now, and with it came the miserable heat; the cool, natural waters of the fountain drew William towards it as he wiped away the sweat from his brow. The marble fountain boasted four tiers, each shrinking in size until reaching the top, where a constant stream of clear water sprouted from the centre. It would pool at each level before trickling down the sides, finally finishing in the base. Natural springs beneath the city kept the place hydrated and alive. The fountain was massive; the amount of water in the base could provide water to an entire village – and a city, for that matter.

  He stopped at the side of the fountain and pulled out a small, empty water pouch from his side, removing the cap and emptying the few drips of warm water inside. The gentle trickling of water was like music to his ears. He would travel to Orwell just to experience this fountain’s water if he had the choice. A few others roamed around the courtyard, some of them reaching into the fountain for a drink or just talking amongst each other. William leaned over to fill the pouch and then took a sip, his head tilting up as the crisp water touched his parched mouth. He looked at the three mountains in the background and their barren, rocky peaks, attesting to the arid climate at their base.

  Behind the fountain were the three stone staircases, all leading up to the second level of the city and to the three distinct districts, each with their own tall, stone walls around them. The central grand staircase, made of smooth marble, led to the main residential district, the Caisen District, while the other two smaller ones led to the Laurdor District, one filled with inns and pubs for the people’s amusement, and the Crilover District, a place that William and the others never visited. The Crilover District housed some of Orwell’s oldest families; plenty of rumours circulated about the district’s dangers, which is why none of William’s family or the Arraci ever ventured up those steps leading to it.

  After finishing the water, he refilled it again, this time noticing a few more details about the fountain. Along the rim of the fountain’s base hung a string of royal, dark green banners around the circumference, a symbol of the Brutean Kingdom. It was an unexpected sight that made William glance twice to be sure. He knew that Orwell had joined the Brutean Kingdom before the usurpation, or at least a treaty or an agreement was erected, but he didn’t know the city had remained loyal or connected afterwards. He thought back to the last trip a month ago, along with all of the trips before that, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing the banners here.

  He continued to drink while inspecting the banners further. At first glance, they appeared legitimate, a prancing golden lion at the centre resting upon a dark green background, its powerful claws raised and its sharp teeth threateningly on display. It was almost the same banner proudly displayed in Brymar, but the official Brutean banners had a small, golden crown set upon each lion’s head.

  Upon further scrutiny, another detail emerged regarding the banners along the fountain; William noticed a foreign symbol above the lion’s head: a combination of three intersected triangles and what appeared to be the face of another beast, all in the place of where the crown should’ve been.

  It perplexed him. He stared at this new Brutean-like crest for some time. With his minimal knowledge of the realm, he wondered if the political powers of Orwell had either made a mistake or created a new crest. The subtle modification would probably only be noticed by the royal family.

  After securing his water pouch back onto his side and glancing at the crest again, he moved around the base of the fountain towards the large stairwell on the other side, but stopped abruptly, feeling wandering eyes staring at him. He made eye contact with a hooded stranger ahead and watched the person leave without a word; William could see the sword behind the cloak and readied his hand towards the concealed handle of his own.

  The person passed without incidence; William noticed a couple of Arraci in the courtyard with him, both of them keenly watching as the stranger walked up a set of stairs into the Crilover District. An Arracian shrugged as the stranger disappeared in the district; it wasn’t uncommon for them to see a suspicious stranger in this city, but for them to walk into the Crilover District was alarming.

  William continued to the marble steps leading to the Caisen District and noticed the two Arraci nearby. They walked closely behind him, closer than usual, and William picked up his pace as he sensed their urgency. Either t
hey wanted him to be in the house quickly to discuss Richard or because of the stranger that passed him; neither one would be a good conversation. The Aracci knew what they were doing and didn’t like it when one of the brothers or their father ignored advice. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Richard ignored the protocols; he’d readily admit that he didn’t like being followed everywhere and often pushed back against their rules. But without a doubt, the Aracci were why the brothers and Aroden still lived.

  At the top of the stairs was another tiled courtyard with tall, stone buildings at the sides, all with closed wooden doors and barred windows. People didn’t roam around at this time, opting for their cooler homes instead of the scorching sun. Aside from the few drifters, William walked across the courtyard alone with the two Arraci ‘wandering’ behind him. He wiped the sweat from his brow again; this day felt particularly hot. That was the one thing he hated about Orwell, the heat, though he couldn’t complain too much as Brymar was just as warm during the days.

  At the back of the courtyard began the district’s main avenue, which extended far into the second level with numerous side streets branching off. He briskly passed down the Avenue, still trying to admire the gabled architecture of the larger houses on either side, before turning down a narrow lane. At least here there was shade, which significantly dropped the temperature to a comfortable level. The houses decreased in size as he walked down the lane; the homes closer to the fountain and markets garnered more money, while at the back of the district were the smaller, less-valuable ones.

  Aroden’s house stood at the very back.

  The lane opened up into another little courtyard with wooden homes all around it. Directly ahead was Aroden’s, a compact, two-storied nondescript building with only a pair of tiny windows on the first floor, a cloth draped over each on the inside, and dark planks of wood covering the whole exterior of the house. A couple of short steps led up to the old, heavily knotted door.