“Someone tried to assassinate you before the usurpation of the throne?” Elizabeth calmly asked.
“Yes,” Aroden nodded, glancing back to Max. “And Max saved us.”
Elizabeth looked to Max for elaboration. He leaned back in the chair and sighed with his eyes closed. “I haven’t thought about that day for a long time,” he said as his eyes opened again. “That day defined me. It is why I am here.”
“What did you do?”
Max looked to Aroden, who shrugged. “We have some time to pass.”
Max slowly exhaled as he fidgeted with the heavy silver ring from the traveller in Orwell. “Alright, I’ll tell you the story of young Maximus, then.”
Chapter XXI
The miserably humid air hovered over the markets of Criton, the loud murmur of haggling and bargaining of goods erupting into a discord of indistinguishable noise. The clinking of coins and shouting would wake anyone nearby. As young Maximus lay in a small, isolated corner of the markets, a thin piece of cloth overtop and using his single torn shoe as a hard pillow, his brown eyes popped open to the noisy world around him. He slowly stirred, rubbing his sleepy eyes with dirt-covered, cut hands and stretching his emaciated, boney legs. He took in the surroundings for only a moment, ignoring the few stares passer-by’s gave him, the pity or intolerance in their eyes, and reached over for his breakfast.
He hadn’t eaten for a couple of days now, but yesterday evening, one of the city’s apple vendors kindly handed him a succulent, over ripened and potentially rotten red apple in celebration of his birthday, or at least the day he’d decided was his birthday. Today he turned twelve, and the apple vendor had remembered. Granted, the apple lacked all firmness, and even a few of the expected characteristics of an apple, but Maximus, or Max for short, still smiled, recalling the woman at the apple stand throwing it his way out of pity.
One of the vendors would often give him something to keep him going. He knew most of them, and they knew him, all of them chipping in for his well-being. But by far, the apple stand woman gave him the most food; she even referred to him as son at times, but recently times had been hard, leading to Max holding a single, half-rotten apple with enough excitement to match as if he’d been handed a fresh piece of well-cooked, succulent and flavourful meat.
He bit down into the moist apple, taking a good look at the markets, all of the people rummaging around with bags full of coins and the vendors desperately trying to sell their wares. None of that mattered to him much; responsibility never seemed a priority. The only priority each day was finding food and water – and not dying. That’s all he could hope for in a day. He took another large bite out of the apple, fighting back his urge to vomit, and attempted to enjoy what little good flavour the apple could bring. After only the second bite, neither of which tasted much like an apple, he noticed the crowds quieting a bit and looked up.
An uproar of cheers shattered the momentary silence as a flock of crowds rushed towards one side of the markets; the king approached with his son, and everyone vied to catch a glimpse. Even Max considered running over to see them; he could’ve sworn that the son waved directly at him once, and Max told people that story every chance he had. But instead, Max took another squishy bite from his apple. He continued to sit still while the crowds went wild. He hadn’t the energy to run over there anyway.
But then the air turned cold, the unpleasant smell of the apple was replaced with an even worse stench, and Max began to shiver. A figure covered entirely in thick, black robes cast a shadow on him, summoning an unbearably foul odour of death and decay. It paid no attention to Max, instead focusing on the crowds in the distance. Max couldn’t see anything, only the person’s back, but a rotten, dark brown hand emerged from beneath the thick robes and a long, black bow was removed from the figure’s back, foreign carvings all over it.
Max’s heart raced.
He saw the figure raise the bow and ready a black arrow with a glutinous substance on the sharp tip aimed directly towards the oncoming royal family. As the arrow was pulled back, as far as the black string could stretch, the figure waited for the target. Max could see the royal banner coming around the corner; it would be any moment until King Aroden would come into view, and the arrow would be released. Without hesitation, Max jumped to his feet and hurled his rotten apple towards the figure’s head with all the force he could possibly summon, shouting and screaming as loudly as he could to warn the others of danger.
The apple soared through the air, striking the figure directly on the back of the head and exploding apple pieces all over the place. The moment the apple made contact, the figure flinched and released the arrow far above the crowds of the market, watching it fly overhead the buildings in the distance. Max continued to yell for attention, but the release of the arrow alerted everyone; the people ran for cover. The figure shrieked in the air amongst the chaos, its fury redirecting to Max in the corner as it shifted its villainous attention.
Max spotted the royal guards rushing to cover the king and William while several others scrambled to see the commotion in the corner. But then Max saw the figure’s eyes, burning a brilliant dark blue and focused on his heart. It approached him quickly, and Max screamed, this time for his life and for help. He stumbled over his feet, the weakness from throwing the apple taking hold of his boney body, along with utter terror as he desperately crawled back into his corner of the market. The creature threw its bow to the ground and removed a jagged black dagger with red blood already drenched on the tip, no doubt from the city guards it had already killed. With its other hand, it picked Max up by the neck and stared into his glassy eyes.
Max continued to scream as best he could. The hand clamped on his throat hard, but he watched that knife the whole time, knowing what would happen next as a tear emerged from his eye; he thought of how the apple lady might miss him. But then the figure jolted forwards once and then again after a short pause. It continued to stare at Max but dropped the knife. As its grasp loosened, Max could better scream. It threw him backwards, and Max hit the ground, hard, distorting his vision and sending a sharp pain through his head. As the creature fell to its knees, Max saw what saved his life: two orange-feathered, long light brown-shafted arrows fired from one of the king’s royal protectors.
As another arrow struck the creature’s back, it began to gargle to itself, a cruel laughter before reaching a hand inside of its robes. With one final snicker, it muttered a few words to itself before clenching down on something inside the cloak. In a flash of light, a brilliant flash of blue flames engulfed the creature in a cloud of unnatural heat. Max tried to scream again but couldn’t summon the energy. He watched as the creature burned in front of him, first witnessing the face slowly melt off while it wriggled on the ground, still crowing to itself and staring at Max until its eyes burned away. All that remained was a pile of ash, its bow, and a knife still barely intact.
He slipped between consciousnesses but heard a voice. “Boy,” the voice called, and he felt a hand touching his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
But Max couldn’t respond at first – until the person lightly slapped his face. “Fine,” he said, his eyes opening slightly from the pain in his cheek. “Yes, I’m fine. Just hungry and tired,” he answered, the sunlight hurting his eyes.
“Come with us,” the person said, and Max noticed it was a young woman with a gentle hand. “You just saved the king. This corner is no place for a hero.”
*************************************************************
Max stopped talking.
“That’s quite a story,” Elizabeth quietly commented as she stood up from beside him. “I’ve heard of that day, but I never knew what truly happened.”
Max nodded. “That day formed who I became.”
“A brother,” William said.
“And a son,” Aroden added.
Max smiled. “I found family because of that day.” He shuddered while thinking about that creature’s stare. He looked to Adriana.
“It was the same,” she said to confirm his thoughts. “The same flames and unnatural heat, it’s definitely another assassin.”
“So they are back to finish the job,” Aroden said while pacing again. “After twelve years, they return to try and kill me.”
Max looked to Elizabeth, who appeared quiet and distanced. “Do you know anything of these beings?”
“Not much,” she said. “Those beings are among the leaders of the Laskil Order, the group of assassins we encountered in Victoria’s home. Tolin warned me and my father about them. Aside from Max’s account and the incident in the caverns, I’ve never heard of any other sightings before today.”
“And the Arraci have never encountered this order before,” Adriana spoke up.
“I believe they are from another realm, too,” Elizabeth said. “Their language is also foreign, as neither I nor Victoria recognised it during the battle in Orwell.”
Aroden shook his head. “Not knowing one’s enemy is a dangerous thing,” he said. “It puts us at a disadvantage.”
“This stone is the key,” Elizabeth declared. “You heard what Zed said about the cradle of creation fragmenting,” she added. “It is imperative that I reach Tolin to find answers that only Durk’helm can reveal.”
“In due time,” Aroden assured, “a journey to Durk’helm will require planning. It’s quite a distance away.”
Elizabeth brushed off the remarks.
Aroden saw Zed still flipping through his pages. “Have you anything else?” he addressed him.
But Zed shook his head. “Not much, only the passage I read, and what I showed William and Max yesterday.”
“The crest of the enemy is also similar to that of the Eternals,” William added. “It was on the opposite page.”
“Show me,” Aroden said as Zed flipped to the page.
“Eternals are the gatekeepers of the world,” Elizabeth recalled while Aroden surveyed markings. “They give rise to time.”
Aroden thought to himself quietly, his gaze alternating between the crests of the Eternal and the enemy on opposite pages. “These crests bear striking similarities to one another. Surely this doesn’t bode well for us.” He looked at some of the text around the two crests. “I recall that you mentioned Eternals earlier,” he said to Zed, “when you mentioned Elitheria.”
“Yes,” Zed nodded, turning back to that page. He read for a bit before elaborating. “They took part in the ancient war, the one that split the cradle of creation, though I can’t read all of these passages as…”
“They’re either too faded or in a different language,” Aroden sighed. “Where’s this book from then?” he pried.
Zed shied away. “Durk’helm,” he said while glancing towards Elizabeth. “It was stolen a long time ago and never returned.” He paused. “It fell into my family’s possession many centuries ago.”
“To take a book from the library of Durk’helm is forbidden,” Elizabeth muttered, though Zed’s expression showed he already knew that. She shook her head. “The text is likely in an ancient language lost to time then,” she elaborated. “No one knows the truth about the Eternals. They’ve become the subject of stories and myths and nothing more. From what I’ve heard, though, it’s believed the Eternals watch over the world and intervene only if the fabric of time is threatened, but there’s never been a recorded sighting of them.” Elizabeth shrugged. “Apparently they’re masters of magic, too, and possess the ability to morph into a single creature of their choosing. Some even speculate that the Eternals are actually evil rather than good, but most of the things I’ve heard about them are probably no more than conjecture.”
“Do you believe that they are real,” William asked, “and that they could be evil?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I would have to meet one first to be able to make that judgement.”
William smiled at her answer.
Porter passed through the door with another bucketful of water. “I think a couple more will suffice,” he said.
“I’m going to step outside,” Elizabeth spoke up, seeing the cool morning sky out of the open door.
William followed. “I’ll come with you.”
She didn’t object nor show any desire for him to follow. The quiet of the world reminded William again of the previous morning as he gazed into the rising sun and waited for the world to wake up. Now that peace felt surreal, an illusion compared to the past day. He caught up and walked beside her.
“I just wanted to say…” he paused. “I’m sorry…about your father.”
She didn’t respond.
“I know you haven’t had a chance to mourn him yet as it happened so recently. I just…” he paused, hesitating to reveal his own pain, “I lost my mother too during an attack, and I think I understand the pain you’re going through.”
She looked at him, his presence a comfort. “Thank you. I will mourn in my own way,” she said. “Towards the end of his life, he became so fixated on stealing this stone that it changed him.” William didn’t pry further, but Elizabeth continued. “In his mind, he saw the stone as not only saving this world but a chance to re-establish our home and retake the Artelian forest. It’s all that mattered to him.”
“Can the stone do that?” William thought of his father’s own deep desire to restore the Brutean Kingdom.
“I don’t know. Considering this stone may be a fragment of creation, we may not be able to even fathom its capabilities.” She paused. “The last thing my father told me to do was to bring this stone to Tolin and Durk’helm. I will not fail him.”
“We’ll go to Durk’helm after resting in Brymar,” William said. “You’ll be welcome into my home, I promise.”
“We should leave for the library now,” Elizabeth countered. “Traveling to Brymar will only delay us.”
He shrugged. “I doubt my father would agree to that.”
“I know. I’m anxious to meet Tolin,” she said. “That’s all.”
“You don’t know much about this Tolin person,” William pointed out. “How do you know his intentions are good?” Elizabeth didn’t respond, and William could tell his question irritated her. But this didn’t discourage him from prying further. “Have you not questioned why he knew how to steal the stone in the first place?”
Elizabeth thought to herself, her conviction wavering for only a moment. “He spoke of an oppressed people, one that required the stone for survival.” She paused. “But considering removing this stone from the realm would lead to the destruction of it,” she added, “based on what Zed told us, Tolin must be on our side to have prevented it from happening.”
But William wasn’t entirely convinced. “I hope you are right.”
Elizabeth conceded a nod. She gazed into the distant lands around them. “Clearly these invaders grow bolder each day. To attack us in Orwell means they’re a notable adversary.”
“They won’t overtake Brymar,” William declared. “The place is impenetrable.”
“People said the same of Orwell,” Elizabeth countered. She sighed. “I can only hope this stone can change the tide.”
William shivered from the cold air, as did Elizabeth. “I needed this fresh air,” she said. “Thanks for walking with me.”
He smiled. “This is my favourite time of the day to be awake. I love the quiet before everyone wakes up.”
“As do I,” she said.
“I think of my mother at this time,” William added. “My fondest memories with her happened in the early mornings.” He turned to face Elizabeth. “So where did you grow up?” he decided to ask, wanting to know more about her. “Have you always been in Orwell with Victoria?”
“No,” she said and shrugged. “I lived in several villages during my childhood, but the one I lived in the longest was in Forelorne. My father had a small house. I only moved in with Victoria after my father decided we had to take the stone, but I’ve known Victoria for my entire life.”
He didn’t pry after
seeing her expression sadden.
They spotted Porter heading to the well at the centre of the village. As he pulled the bucket out of the well, he quickly made his way back towards them and the inn again. William wanted to do more to comfort her and tried to think of more words to say.
“It’s going to be okay,” he finally said before they turned back towards the inn. That was the best he could come up with. “We’ll make sure the stone reaches Durk’helm. I promise.” She gave a shallow smile before opening the door.
“When I felt your hand in the caverns,” Elizabeth started before passing inside, “I felt something…different within you that I haven’t felt before.”
“I don’t understand,” William answered.
She shrugged. “Neither do I,” she said, “but it surprised me.”
William stared back blankly but was interrupted by Porter coming up the stairs. The two of them passed into the inn, leaving the door open behind them, and Porter dashed in through the doorway with an empty bucket and sweat pouring from his forehead.
“The well is empty!” he exclaimed to the others, his voice shaking.
“How can the well dry up?” Aroden asked, walking towards him and peering into the empty bucket. “It’s fed by a natural spring. Water’s flowed from it for centuries.”
“I don’t know, but the water’s gone!” He showed them the empty bucket. “I tried several times.”
Brian charged through the door shortly afterwards. “We hear something out there,” he called out. “Orthol and Gringal reported strange sounds along the periphery of Skee. I’ve set up watches around the village.”
“What do you mean ‘something’ out there,” Porter repeated, his brow creased. “What kind of something?”
“We don’t know. Voices it seemed at first, but then they stopped. Orthol and Gringal returned after hearing them.”
“And still no sign of Richard yet,” Aroden muttered with deflated hope.
“No.”
Elizabeth had already removed her bow and headed towards the doorway. “Victoria carries the stone,” she said. “If it’s them out there, then they’ll need our help. We must ensure that they reach us safely.”
The Secrets of Brymar (The Elitherian Fragments Book 1) Page 24