by Adam Bishop
Dadro had never been fond of Chancellor Raymund. Even as a small child, he would tell his father he didn’t like Raymund— “the scary old man” —and that he didn’t understand why he had to be in the royal court. The old chancellor did have a reputation for drifting through the castle halls like a wandering ghost. This led to many stories insinuating that he could float—he would only reveal his feet when he stood at your side. He also wore long grey robes. They hung just over the bottoms of his feet, enhancing the possibility of his ghostly reputation. This wasn’t the sole reason behind Dadro’s disfavour. It was just one of the many things irking him about the old man. Raymund was peculiar, full of speculations, yet his counsel had never been overlooked, and his sanity not once questioned. However, if it wasn’t for his long friendship with Dadro’s father, his seat on the council would have surely been replaced long ago.
“They say a lot about you, old man,” Dadro replied.
“Well I do hope so, my boy. I’ve been in Havelmir for eighty-three years now. I’d be slightly disappointed if there weren’t any stories about me floating around. I’ve heard one or two about you myself,” he said.
“It’s Your Grace,” Dadro snarled. “And I’m not, your boy … I’m your King. Be sure to remember that.”
Raymund simply smiled, slowly nodding. “Of course, of course. I only meant to congratulate you on your victory … my King. I pray for the recovery of young Fordro too, of course. He will fight through his injuries, I’m sure. The Braxi come from a strong bloodline. His life is far from over.”
It was obvious to Dadro that Raymund had always favoured his brother. But to his current surprise, Dadro found the old chancellor’s words to be refreshing. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to acknowledge another forged conversation consoling his brother’s condition. The alcohol helped him get through all the fake words concerning his brother last night, but now he wasn’t sure if he could listen to another rambling fool going on about how broken up they were over a man they didn’t even know.
“Kind words, Chancellor. I too, pray for my brother’s recovery. But for now I must tend to my own wounds.”
Just before Dadro could begin limping away, Raymund slipped a small scroll out of his baggy sleeve. “I've word from the west,” he said in his usual leisurely tone. “The Kelts and the Forguard wish to join in your fight against the Elves. It appears word travels fast when a human army triumphs over the Elves and lives to tell the tale.” He then handed Dadro the small scroll that proclaimed the allegiance.
“So two of the three houses sworn to Talfryn are willing to join my side, are they? What of Stoneburg? Their army would prove most useful. More so than the frail men from the Ridgelands.”
“Gregor has always been a close friend of the Arinfray’s, Your Grace. His honour won’t be so easily broken … or broken at all,” Raymund said.
Dadro’s face held a sadistic stare. The wheels of war began turning in his head, and the path they forged was one few would be willing to travel. “Find Darith for me. Send him to my solar. We’ll see just how honourable Gregor truly is.”
CHAPTER SIX
From the Ashes
With the last of the Braxi gone and their safety confirmed by silence, William and Baldric awoke from their slumber beneath the ashes. The taste of burnt carbon filled their dry mouths as they attempted to rise. Standing quickly became a challenge, as they realized all feeling had abandoned their legs. Their knees buckled, and their cracked lips burst open and drew blood. It felt like a soothing stream of spring water against their tongues. The dehydration had taken its toll hours ago, weakening their bodies to a point where their muscles felt unable to function. The ash had darkened their complexion, staining their skin in a coat of greyish black. Even their hair was speckled with the frail flakes of death.
Baldric managed to stand and began coughing out chunks of black phlegm. He helped William to his feet, using a burnt stump as leverage.
“There must be a stream close by,” William said through a broken cough. He wobbled beside Baldric like a drunken man trying to find his balance.
Baldric nodded and tapped a finger to his ear. “I saw a stream when we were running through the forest. This way, listen for it … it can’t be too far.”
They staggered through the ashy remains of the forest, hoping to stumble across the stream Baldric spoke of. Every wavering step they took felt destined to be their last, but they continued inching their way along anyhow. The sound of a steady stream soon met their ears, and a feeling of relief shot through their entire bodies. It was just enough motivation to give them the strength they needed to reach their destination.
A small ash-sprinkled stream appeared before them. They both collapsed into its bed, cherishing the refreshing current. It brought them back to life.
Baldric laughed as he lay there soaked from head to toe. Slowly but surely, the water washed him clean of the ash that had nearly taken his life. His long dirty-blond hair began to show its colour once again, dancing through the crystal-clear current. “We're free at last!” he shouted. “Free from the grasp of the Braxi! Free from the rule of Man!” He rose to his knees and looked over at William, his smile stretching ear to ear. William smiled in similar fashion, peeking out from behind his fingers as he scrubbed his face clean. This was the first time Baldric had seen William smile. The sight of it warmed his soul. The image of that frightened, curly-haired boy he had met on his way to Rhan, had now been washed away in this beautiful stream. “So, my friend. What do you say? Shall we make our way to the deserted Kingdom ahead ... see what food has been left behind for us?”
William stood up with half the effort he had needed a few minutes ago. He let out a gleeful laugh “To that I say … lead the way, my friend! And may we feast throughout the night.”
“Ah, yes! There’s the spirit I knew was hiding inside you. Welcome to freedom, Will. How’s a free dinner with a toast of ‘fuck the Braxi’ sound?” Baldric said, with equal parts confidence and arrogance.
William laughed and nodded. “Fuck the Braxi … I like the way that sounds.”
“Very well. I guess you won’t mind if I eat your free dinner then,” Baldric said, not attempting to hide his sarcasm.
They saw hundreds of burned corpses as they headed towards the Kingdom. Most of the bodies were piled in crowded graves, left to rot in an unrecognizably frail state. The day’s soft winds were enough to wisp away flakes from the crispy remains. The two friends tried to avoid the fallen soldiers, but it was hard to evade. There were charred limbs everywhere, littering the field of ash. The forest floor must have held a layer of ash six inches high. Skeletons of trees were scattered throughout its destruction.
It was an eerie sight, yet the two of them couldn’t help feeling a sense of security among the desolation. It was hard to believe that a flourishing forest used to stand where they were now, growing all the way to the edge of the cliffs along Tullin’s Bay.
***
Their hunger, and its ensuing weakness, had returned with a clenching pain by the time they reached the entrance to the Kingdom. The closer they got to Rhan, the harder it was not to dream of the food potentially awaiting them. They hadn’t eaten anything in two days, so the thought of a meal became more of an obsession with each step towards the fallen home of the Elves. As they passed under the graceful stone archway to Rhan, they found themselves frozen in awe by the sight of the Elven castle. They had both seen numerous Kingdoms built by humans, but none of those compared to the structure standing before them. The craftsmanship of the Elves, and their attention to detail, was exhilarating. Even with the state it was in, its beauty managed to shine through. Artwork flowed throughout every inch of stone left standing. There was no solitude or simplicity among the Kingdom. It had more of an open, lively feeling to it. The Elves were able to harness the beauty of masonry in a way the humans never could. And unlike humans, the Elves built in unison with the forest rather than against it. Countless stone hallways flowed througho
ut the Kingdom and connected to large trees, which added to its structure instead of opposing its construction. William and Baldric couldn’t help but feel remorse in seeing such breathtaking architecture broken and deserted, even though neither of them had lived among its beauty. Something about the Kingdom spoke to them in a way they could quite understand. They both knew that this structure was more than just a home. They could feel it, and somehow, they understood the importance of its existence.
“The destruction that took place here was more than just another siege to gain power,” Baldric said under his breath. “This attack destroyed a piece of Elven history older and more impactful than any human life. The Braxi stole more than what they came for. Such destruction was blindly carried out with the ignorance of a vengeful mind.”
“I've never seen such a gorgeous Kingdom before. Nor was I aware that such a place could exist,” William said. He was still lost in his gaze, hearing nothing that Baldric said.
“Yes,” Baldric agreed, “I’ve always wanted to see an Elven Kingdom in person. This place is sacred ... we shall show much respect during our stay.”
Will nodded, taking another moment to acknowledge the privilege of his presence. He understood that few humans had stood where he did now. Such an honour shouldn’t be taken for granted.
***
They were met by further artistry upon entering the Kingdom of Rhan. Skillful carvings and murals covered the Elven walls, forcing them to stop and acknowledge the surrounding elegance. The interior of the Kingdom was like a plentiful museum. There were enticing exhibits of lore in every direction they glanced, none of which overshadowed whatever had previously been there. Many Elven corpses filled the halls as well—however, their lifeless presence was eclipsed by the beauty and craftsmanship of their race. Even the smell of the dead was masked by the foliage winding throughout the castle. Swaths of flowers and vines climbed across the walls and through the stone, adding to its beauty. Pools of dried blood covered the marble floors with a tasteful flow of red, complementing the sunlight’s peaceful and warm glow. There was no scene of slaughter in the castle halls, only a subtle array of death surrounded by an endless amount of pulchritude.
As they continued walking through the Kingdom of Rhan, their hunger returned with a vengeance, wresting their attention back from their brief distraction of artwork.
“We have to find some food soon. Otherwise, I fear I’ll end up accompanying one of our lifeless friends here on the floor,” Baldric said, hoping his playful words weren’t disrespecting the dead.
William's stomach agreed, and his newly found respect for the Elves added strength to his words. “We should be grateful we're even alive ... I’m sure we’ll find some food soon enough.”
The next room they found themselves in was the Elven dining hall. The wide, empty room held a long wooden table. Empty plates mocked their growling stomachs.
“The cellar can’t be far,” Baldric said. He scanned the room, searching for where he thought the kitchen might be. “Here, this way. I have a great sense of direction, trust me.”
They travelled down a small flight of stairs and swung open a simple wooden door. Baldric was right. A series of long wooden shelves held extensive amounts of fruit and vegetables, and spices ran to the back of the room. The far end of the pantry consisted of a wondrous rack of fine Elven wines—which they would soon learn far surpassed the quality of any they had ever tasted.
Baldric quickly jolted his head, smiling devilishly. “It’s as you said, my friend. We shall feast throughout the night.”
Will’s wide eyes spoke for both of them as he stepped into the cold cellar. They stuffed their pockets with as much as they would hold. From onions to oranges, pears and potatoes—boil em, mash em, stick em in a stew, as a great man once said. Almost everything they saw met the tips of their fingers. A large apple protruded from each of their mouths as they continued their raid. It wasn’t until William turned the corner that he decided two trips would have to be made.
“Baldric, Baldric, look!” he said, although the last word sounded more like “oook” with the apple stuck in his mouth.
Baldric ran over to see what all the fuss was about. His eyes instantly grew wide and his stomach began to growl. What they were staring at was a neat row of shelves—stretching from the ceiling to the floor—holding a myriad of smoked fish encased in a cooled, glass cabinet. With William being a fisherman, he pretty much stood there drooling like a fool. Baldric, on the other hand, snapped out of his food daze. He piled fish atop his fruits and veggies, using his chin to hold the salty smoked treats in place.
“What are you waiting for?” Baldric asked. “It’s not like they’re gonna swim away. Take your pick, my friend.”
They both carried their weight in food out of the pantry. When they sprawled their spoils out across the dining table, a newfound feeling of freedom presented itself. After thirty minutes of biting and chewing noises filling the dining hall—Baldric spoke.
“So, William. How does it feel to be a free man?”
Will finished chewing a mouthful of smoked trout before he spoke. “I’m truly grateful to have my freedom, and I have you to thank for that. But, I’ve been meaning to ask you … why me?”
Baldric was silent for a moment, caught off guard by William’s question. “Why you, eh?” he repeated. “That’s a good question. I’d be curious if I were you, too. Why would a stranger offer me my freedom? Why me? It’s a valid question. A smart question, even. I guess the short answer would simply be because I trust you. You’re an honest man, Will. And true at heart. I first realized that back in Havelmir, when you chose peace over eating. And when you helping that skinny lad carry his waterskin. When I first joined the Braxi, all I could think of was my freedom. Yet, on our venture to Rhan, I started thinking, what’s a good thing if you keep freedom to yourself? Sure, I would be free, and I could do as I please. But I would be alone, and there’s nothing sadder than being alone. I mean, to be honest, if there were any women among us you’d be dead and gone along with all those other bodies in the ash. But, lucky for you, there weren’t ... so, here you are. Alive and well, because you’re a good person. No more and no less.”
William sat there, perplexed by Baldric’s answer. He wondered if everything his new friend just said was true. How could he know what type of person I am? He barely knows me … William argued with himself for a while before he responded. “I appreciate everything you said, but we only met but a few days ago. How could you know anything about me?”
“Hmm, yes. Well, I like to think I have a knack for seeing people as they truly are ... reading a person, if you will. I mean—and stop me if I’m wrong here—you never ran to tell the Braxi my plans. You followed me through the chaos of the forest. You felt for some reason that you could trust me, and you did so with your life, might I add. Like I said, you’re truehearted.”
William never expected such a simple observation to be behind Baldric’s reasoning. He then heard his father’s voice in the back of his head. Sometimes the most obvious answer blindly sits in front of you. William felt a sense of relief remembering his father’s words. “I must admit, at first I wasn’t sure if you were completely mad, clever, or a bit of both. I feel much better now that I know you have at least one oar in the water. A friend who runs into trouble is better than no friend at all.”
“Glad to hear that, Will,” Baldric said with a respectful grin. “This calls for a celebration. It’s not every day you make a new friend.” He reached for a bottle of red wine he’d brought from the cellar. “Let’s have a drink to our freedom and see how the Elven wine tastes, eh?” Baldric yanked out the cork and took a long, hearty swig. Having worked in a tavern for over six years, he had tried his fair share of wines. None of them came close to the quality of this Elven red. “By the Gods … this is the best wine I’ve ever tasted! I’ve always favoured ale, but if we had this back in Havelmir, I doubt I’d drink anything else.” He passed the bottle to William, who
had never been a fan of any wine. To his great surprise, the wine immediately changed his opinion of the drink.
“This is delicious,” William said, stunned by the lingering sweetness on his tongue.
***
The bottles piled up over the course of several hours. In response, their dehydration started to set in once again, although this time a red face and laughter followed, rather than unimaginable weakness and a dry mouth. Baldric drew his fingers through his long golden hair, freeing his face from its weightless strands. “So, my friend. Where might you be from? We both know Havelmir isn’t your true home.”
“I’m not from any Kingdom you’ve ever heard of,” William challenged.
“Every man comes from somewhere. I may not have been to every Kingdom in Cellagor, but I know these lands better than you may think. I have a collection of maps older than you and I combined. If there’s a Kingdom I don’t know about, you’ll be the first to tell me otherwise.”
“Have you heard of Alkyon?”
Baldric’s confidence quickly disintegrated. “Alkyon? No … I can’t say that I have.”
“It’s the name of my father’s ship. I grew up at sea with no Masters or Kings shitting on the likes of us commoners. Out there, the waves and the wind make the rules.”
“Ah. A fisherman, are you? Well, a ship is no Kingdom, you jester. You almost had me doubting myself for a second there,” Baldric said with a sigh of relief. “Hardworking folk, that’s for sure. Free from the cruelties of the land.”
“We may be free from the cruelties of the land, but the seas hold dangers that even a King would bow to.”
“Aye, I don’t doubt it. I’ve never been out to sea myself, but I’ve heard many stories.”
“You’re not all wrong though. I was never put in chains while at sea. My first few days ashore left me in the dungeons, with a quick whip to the back of the head and a stern threat warning me to stay put. I was treated like a dog. If I had the choice, I would’ve never made my way to shore.”