A Sea of Cinders

by Adam Bishop

  “How does cooked partridge and potatoes sound?” Baldric said as he made his way over a grassy ridge a few yards from their campsite. The rising sun had just begun to peak over the eastern horizon, blinding Baldric as he walked forward.

  “Boiled or mashed?” asked William.

  “Neither,” Baldric replied. “I diced up a few and cooked them with some onions. I was saving the rest for later, in case we end up making a stew for dinner.”

  “Smells delicious either way,” said William. “You were up early. The sun’s only just coming out. Couldn’t sleep?”

  Baldric rested his bow against a tree and took a seat on a stump next to the newly-built fire. “I thought it would be a good time to go hunting. Turns out I was right.” Although there was some truth to what Baldric said, the real reason for his early rise had more to do with the noise he had heard last night than it did with his eagerness to hunt. Baldric had spent the better half of his morning scouting around their campsite in search of footprints or any other signs that would confirm his suspicions. He thought it best to withhold such things from William, however. And even though he hadn’t found anything, he still felt like they were being watched.

  After a quick breakfast, they put out the fire and prepared to set off. Strangely, Baldric stood in place admiring the land. William hadn’t taken notice until now—for Baldric always led the way without hesitation—but he realized his friend held no map. He felt foolish and somewhat responsible.

  “Please tell me we’re not lost,” he said.

  “Lost … no, no. It’s just that most of the maps I owned ended at the borders of Larin, being that the humans don’t consider it a part of Cellagor. Not to worry though—I have a great sense of direction.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be fine then,” William replied sarcastically. “Lead the way, captain.”

  Baldric ignored William’s skeptical outlook on the situation and started southeast. At first, their path was simple—the trees were scattered and the terrain was surprisingly forgiving. They were met by a few slopes here and there, but none proved treacherous.

  It wasn’t until they were forced around a high cliff face that the thicket decided to show itself. This slowed their pace drastically. Dead trees and tangled bushes littered the forest in every direction. They carefully maneuvered through the unforgiving bush until they reached a clearing on the other side. The trees had doubled in size since they started walking. Towering trees concealed most of the daylight above.

  “I hope we’re going the right way,” said William. “It’s nearly impossible to tell which direction we’ve been travelling in this place.”

  “The trick is not to question your instincts,” Baldric replied in a low, confident tone. “This way. Follow me.” Baldric navigated the forest in such a way, it was almost as if he knew where he was going. William couldn’t tell if he truly did have a heightened sense of direction, or if he was just overconfident. He was pretty sure it was the latter, but he followed him all the same.

  “Maybe one of us should climb a tree,” William proposed. “That way we could get an idea of which direction we need to travel in.” Baldric didn’t answer at first. He had spotted something in the distance.

  “No, really. Think about it,” William continued. “If we get a better look at the lay of the lan—”

  “Get down!” Baldric whispered, pulling William to the ground beside him. “Quiet! Stay down.”

  “What? What’s going on?” William asked.

  Baldric pointed to his left. “There’s someone over there. I only saw one person, but it looks like he set up camp.”

  “If it’s an Elf, shouldn’t we tell them we’re trying to get to the Vale? You said they would help us.”

  “An Elf would have heard us a mile back. I don’t know who it is, but I’m thinking that’s who I heard last night.”

  “I thought you said it was nothing?” William bickered.

  “Well, I lied,” Baldric admitted. “Anyway, we have to catch them off-guard.”

  William’s furrowed brow argued this idea. “What!? No, you can’t tell me you mean to fight this person?”

  “Fight, no. I have an Elven bow and you a sword. We just have to make sure we use the element of surprise. Let’s go.” Baldric started off without warning.

  “Wait, are you … dammit!”

  William sprang up. A mixture of rage and fear fueled him as he drew closer to the camp.

  Both of them readied their weapons while keeping as low to the ground as possible. They paid close attention to their footing, making sure not to step on any dead pieces of wood as they approached. When they were about fifteen feet from the strangers’ camp, Baldric nocked an arrow and nodded at William, making sure he was ready for what was to come.

  William knew Baldric had no intention of causing harm, but he couldn’t say the same for this unknown traveller. He tightened his grip around his sword’s hilt and prepared himself for the worst. After nodding back, he and Baldric rose to their feet and closed in on the unsuspecting traveler …

  That’s when they heard it. There were no footsteps, just the subtle sound of an arrow being drawn from behind them. Then a deep voice rang out.

  “Drop your weapons and turn around,” the voice said.

  The two shared a look of terror as they slowly placed their weapons down. William felt all his suspicions of the Elves come rushing back. He knew Baldric had been mistaken, and he hated himself for falling victim to such beliefs.

  They turned to face their captors, shaken by the thought of what would happen next.

  “You’re no Elf!” Baldric quibbled.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  To New Alliances and Dead Eagles

  As autumn settled in, the days grew shorter and the ground hardened under the northern Kingdom of Havelmir. The slicing sound of sickles echoed throughout the grain fields in the eastern farmlands outside the city walls. Wheat, corn, barley, and rye … the Parry brothers grew all that the land would let them. The farm had been in their family’s possession for over five generations, dating back to the rule of Roald Braxis.

  Everybody knew the Parry family. They were well-respected by all those who lived in Havelmir. Especially by Fordro, who rode out to their farm every year to help with the harvest, reaping side by side with the common folk. This year his presence was sorely missed. The fires of Rhan had burned away any chance for the Parry’s to reap the benefit of his helping hand. The Prince of the People had yet to wake since his return from the Elven wood. He lay motionless in his sickbed, a burned husk of his former self.

  “His skin, it's … well it looks to be healing quite well,” Dadro said as Aleister tended to his brother’s wounds. “Your remedies are proving to be rather … impressive.”

  “Why yes, of course, Your Grace. I would never offer false assistance,” Aleister replied. “Fordro’s recovery is of great importance. Not just for the two of us, but for the realm itself. As I said, I will do everything I can for him. I assure you.”

  Dadro answered with a simple grunt of appreciation. “There was a time not long ago when I would have scoffed at such outlandish medicine. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to prove me wrong, and I must respect this. Fordro used to tell me that every race had something to offer. ‘Only when it comes to whores,’ I used to tell him. I’m now beginning to think he might have been right after all.”

  “My knowledge in the healing arts may surpass the knowledge of those who live in Havelmir, yes. But if I had sided with the Elves in Rhan instead of the Braxi, I wouldn’t be of much use to anyone now, would I?” Aleister said as he finished changing the last of Fordro’s dressings. “Everyone has something to offer. What truly matters is who they offer it to.”

  “Wise words, my friend. You have chosen your alliances wisely.”

  “That I have,” The pyromancer concurred with a grin.

  “And so have Stoneburg, Your Grace,” a sluggish voice said from behind them. Dadro didn’t bother turning around
. Aside from Vagrin, he knew of only one person who could enter a room with the silence of an assassin.

  “Raymund!” Dadro snapped. “How nice of you to sneak up on us like that.”

  Chancellor Raymund spoke through a raspy chuckle. “Oh no, Your Grace. I’m just old is all. The slower you move the less noise you make,” the old adviser explained. “It seems Darith was able to … well, convince seems like a rather delicate way to put it,” he said. “All the same, Gregor’s remaining men have agreed to align with us, Your Grace.”

  “Very well,” the King replied. “So Talfryn now sits all alone atop their hill. No armies left to aid them in the Ridglands but their own?”

  “It is as you say. They are on their own. It appears a man by the name of Hammond Hallvaror has taken Gregor’s place as the new Lord of Stoneburg. He used to be Gregor’s squire, though I have reason to believe the two didn’t always see eye to eye,” Raymund said as he handed King Dadro a small scroll.

  Dadro broke the wax seal and read over the letter. A hellish grin formed underneath his matted beard. “So this Hammond wishes to swear his allegiance to me. A wise choice for the new Lord. Maybe this one will keep his head.”

  “A wise choice indeed, Your Grace,” Aleister said. “The Ridgelands will soon be yours.”

  Dadro looked down at his brother, ignoring the foul wounds stealing his once rugged good looks. “Ours,” he muttered under his breath. “Soon the Ridgelands will be ours. Fordro will wake soon enough. When he does, we will sack Talfryn together.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, Your Grace,” Aleister said. “Fordro grows stronger by the day. His slumber will soon come to an end.”

  “I do hope you're right,” Dadro said with a heavy glare.

  Aleister could feel the weight of his King’s eyes glaring down at him. He did not dare look back. Despite all he had done for the Braxi thus far, he knew he was still seen as an outsider. He was a stranger from a foreign land asking to aid in a war he had no business being a part of. Such a request sounded odd at first, but over time he was certain the Braxi would come to see his intentions for what they truly were.

  Just as Raymund was about to disappear from the room, his soundless footsteps dragged to a halt. “Ahh yes, I almost forgot, Your Grace,” his words came out as slow as honey. “Darith means to speak with you. He is waiting in your solar.”

  Dadro nodded at Raymund and then turned his attention back to Aleister. “I never thought the day would come when I’d be working alongside a pyromancer from Melderwin. Gods be dammed, I never thought I would speak to anyone from across the Shimmering Sea—unless my war hammer asked for their last words, that is. But I must say, I’m thankful we met. Not only have you proved your worth, but you’ve earned my respect. That is not easily done … so be sure not to break it.”

  Aleister felt an unrivalled sense of honour. He often worried that the Braxi were using him, and that Dadro would have him killed once his purpose had been served. “I can’t say how much those words mean to me, Your Grace. I’m truly grateful, I am.”

  “As am I,” Dadro replied. “Just make sure my brother lives to tell you the same.”

  ***

  Dadro entered the solar to find Darith masked behind the hulking flagon that he was drinking from. He was sitting at a long table carved of blackened oak, with gold trim wrapping around its surface. The room was lavishly furnished compared to the rest of the castle. Two feathered beds—blanketed in furs—flanked the hearth of a large stone fireplace in the corner of the room. A sitting area stretched out across a glowing wall of windows on the chambers’ left side. And grand tapestries hung from the high stone walls, which were decorated with various mounted weapons, from claymores and crossbows to war hammers and halberds.

  “You left quite the impression during your short stay in Stoneburg,” Dadro said as he sat at the head of the table. “I heard you removed Gregor’s head while he still sat upon his throne.”

  Darith let out a mocking chuckle “That Ridgelander called himself a Lord. Bah! I’ve slept with women who had more fight in them than he did. As for Gregor’s men, they pissed their boots as they watched me nail Richard’s errand boy’s arms onto his back.”

  “Durwin? You nailed his arms to his back?”

  “Aye, that’s the one. Well, they call themselves knights of the eagles, don’t they? So I gave him his wings,” Darith replied, chuckling at the thought of it.

  “A persuasion of steel,” Dadro said flashing a grin. “You never were a man of many words.”

  “My sword never has to ask twice.”

  “And what of this Hammond, I hear of … can he be trusted?” King Dadro asked, assuming Darith would have already dealt with him otherwise.

  “Hammond, yes, a stout fella. Wields a war hammer,” Darith answered heartily. “We spoke over a few pints He seems a fine lad. Strong, though not as strong as me. I don’t doubt his loyalty, which is why I asked you here today. The new Lord wishes to meet with you. He says he must meet the King who bested the Elves and burnt their forest to the ground. I wanted to vouch for Hammond myself, I know a good warrior when I meet one. I wouldn’t think twice before going into battle with him at my side.”

  “Rare words coming from you, my friend,” Dadro said. “If he’s half the warrior you say he is, I would be glad to have him fight alongside the Braxi. But what of the rest of Gregor’s army? Were there none who wished vengeance in the name of their Lord?”

  “I cut down three loyal bastards who attempted to avenge Gregor,” Darith said, smirking as he pictured the slaughter. “Hammond secured the others and sent them to the dungeons. He knew which men could be trusted and which ones needed convincing.”

  “A born leader, it seems,” Dadro replied. “When am I to expect his arrival in Havelmir?”

  “Hammond suspects King Richard will be awaiting his leave,” Darith put in. “He feels it would be unwise to lead his army into a possible ambush, so he has asked that we meet him along the Stoney Forks where the road breaks from the mountains. It is but a small favour to even the odds, in case Talfryn’s army has planned an ambush.”

  “Hmm, I see,” Dadro said. He pondered the request, knowing that King Richard would have eyes on the road. If Hammond led his army past Talfryn, it would only confirm their betrayal. The certainty of an ambush wasn’t what troubled him; it was whether or not it was worth the risk. Dadro had already solidified alliances with both the Kelts and the Foreguard, leaving him in charge of half the armies in the Ridgelands. However, the sheer size of Stoneburg’s army made the other two houses look like bands of peasants.

  “I’ll meet with him,” Dadro said. “But he is to bring his entire army. I won’t lead my men into battle for anything less.”

  “Ha!” Darith bellowed out in approval. “I shall leave on the morrow then. A bearer of good news for once, eh? Until then, we drink!” He roared as he poured his King a tall flagon of ale and refilled his own. He was thrilled to present Dadro with this opportunity. He was sick of hearing about Aleister’s contributions. Now it was his turn to impress his King.

  “To new alliances and dead eagles!” Darith raised his drink in salute and crashed his flagon into Dadro’s mug, sending a shower of foam across the oak table. “Stoneburg fighting side by side with the Braxi … never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I wouldn’t have made you the captain of my guard if I couldn’t trust your word,” Dadro said. “Hammond sounds like a sturdy addition to my army. Let’s hope the same is true of his men.”

  “Don’t worry, Your Grace. I’ll have five feet of steel waiting for any who fall out of line.” Darith reassured as he guzzled his remaining ale.

  He then peered across the table to where Fordro usually sat. Although he was a heartless bastard to most, he had a soft spot for the Prince of the People. He considered him somewhat of a brother. Aside from Dadro, he was the only person he saw as family. “How is Fordro, Your Grace? Is he recovering well?”

  “Once again our east
ern friend has proven quite useful. My brother's wounds are healing better than I thought possible. It shouldn’t be long now before Fordro awakens.”

  “I look forward to the day,” Darith said. “I know you trust that pyromancer, but I have a hard time trusting foreigners, filthy vultures they are. Speaking of such, where is that tattered rake of a man who calls himself Vagrin?”

  “I sent him south to spy on the Elves. Why do you ask?” Dadro replied.

  “I mean to speak with him. The Perry brothers have gone missing, and he was one of the last people to see them.”

  “Missing?” Dadro questioned, “During harvest season?”

  “I too found it strange. They were last seen drinking in the Maidens Pearl with Barrel and Gill Lexton, a blacksmith from the Gully. The only other person said to be there was Vagrin. It’s rumoured he stuck a small spike in Lexton’s neck over some disagreement. Vagrin left the bar shortly after, and the Parry’s haven’t been seen since.”

  “A small spike … does my spy wield nothing but needles for protection?” Dadro asked.

  “It was no needle, Your Grace. Lexton bled to death moments after removing the blasted stinger from his neck.”

  Dadro frowned. “So, my spy killed a man, and you think he also has something to do with the Parry brothers’ disappearance?”

  “Aye. And I promise you the sorry bastard‘ll talk once I’m done with him,” Darith said. His eyes widened with the taste for blood.

  The concerned frown remained on Dadro’s face. “I’ll speak to Vagrin upon his return. The man is a shadow—he won’t be found. And the last thing I want is a soldier from Havelmir to be spotted outside an Elven forest. As for Hammond—we’ll send someone else. You’ve just returned, and I won’t have the captain of my army running errands. Send Oskar. He rides well. I trust he’ll make the trek without delay.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Ghost in the Glade

  A steady gallop sent fallen leaves aflutter as Arnion rode through the Viridian Veil. His wounds had fully healed, and it was the first day he was able to go riding with Thalian since their ambush in the Valley of Larin. It was a joyous reunion—Arnion had never gone a day without taking Thalian out for a ride, and he knew that if horses could smile, Thalian’s would be grand.