A Sea of Cinders

by Adam Bishop

  “A couple of times,” Baldric replied. “But I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”

  William shook his head. “I can skin a fish faster than most, but we have no deer out at sea.”

  “Well, don’t be shy then … come round. This is where my father taught me to start the job. It’s a better place than any other.” Rhys said. He started by making an incision along the chest and cut up to the deer’s hip bone. “This is the messy part,” he said, tossing the innards into a bucket at his feet. “It’s not pretty, but it has to be done—and carefully at that.” Next, he cut around the circumference of the front leg joints, removing the hide from the bone. “After this, your flaying will be put to the test. It’s quite a bit more challenging than skinning a fish, but you shouldn’t have much trouble if you have a sharp knife and a steady hand. I should probably hoist the deer, but it’s getting late and I’m starving. A shortcut never killed anyone, eh?”

  Rhys finished undressing the animal within the next few minutes. He then stacked up the three steaks he’d portioned from the deer’s backstrap and led William and Baldric inside.

  ***

  A few pictures hung from Rhys’s walls. Tales of past days were clear in each of the brushstrokes. A rickety rocking chair rested in the far corner along with a stiff-looking couch. There was a small stone fireplace on the right side of the room, where a heaping pile of ash inhabited the hearth. William noticed the crisscrossing artistry carved into the support beams on the ceiling. He wondered if Rhys was the hand behind such talent. The left side of the house held a kitchen lined with cabinets and a hefty wood stove.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” Rhys said. “Just don’t sit in that rocking chair. It’s been in my family for three generations. You break it and you’ll be sleepin’ outside with Viggo.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. William only weighs ninety pounds or so,” Baldric taunted.

  “Shut up,” William shot back through a smirk.

  Rhys tossed a few logs into the wood stove and placed a cast-iron skillet atop its surface. “I’ll fix us some green beans to go with the venison. Mrs. Bevan just picked them yesterday. She grows the best vegetables in the Breast.”

  “We really appreciate your hospitality,” William said. “If it weren’t for you, we’d still be lost in the woods.”

  “Yes... It was very kind of you,” Baldric added. “But I doubt we’d still be lost. I knew where I was going.” Baldric’s words came out confidently, but deep down he knew William was probably right.

  “Ahhh, don’t mention it. I’m sure you’se would do the same for me. You’re kind people, you are. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought otherwise,” Rhys said as he emptied the beans into an oval dish. “Now, for the meat,” he said with a grin. A succulent sizzle came from the cast-iron pan as he placed the steaks over the heat.

  “The sound alone is making my belly rumble,” William admitted “We’ve had some decent meals during our travels, but I have a feeling this is going to put them all to shame.”

  “I like to think I’m a decent cook myself,” Baldric put in. “But I’m going to have to agree with my friend on this one. His instincts may seldom ring true, but the aroma filling the room is making my mouth water. I’m glad we crossed paths with you, Rhys. No doubt I would have led us out of those woods unharmed, but our supper would have been sad in comparison to what you’re cooking up now.”

  Rhys poked at the steaks to check their doneness. He nodded approvingly as he brushed his buttery fingers clean. “Here we are,” Rhys said as he handed them both a heaping plate of meat and veg.

  William and Baldric took their dinner with wide eyes and growling stomachs. They quickly gave their thanks and dug in without hesitation. They all ate in silence—aside from the occasional satisfactory grunt and the odd whimper from Viggo, who waited patiently in the other room.

  “That was delicious!” Baldric said leaning back in his chair.

  “I’ve never had deer before, but I hope this isn’t the last time. It was delicious,” William said.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “I like to think I can cook a good steak. Oh no, I forgot the beers!” Rhys blurted. He sprang out of his seat and ran off.

  “Dinner and free beer!” Baldric exclaimed. “This night just keeps getting better.”

  “That it does, my friend,” William agreed.

  “I brew my own!” Rhys called out from another room. Moments later, he came up from his cellar holding two large crates filled with bottles. “I have a beautiful golden lager, and a rich, fruity amber ale. I prefer the amber myself, but there’s no wrong choice when it comes to beer,” he said with a smile.

  Baldric went straight for the amber and William—never a fan of darker brews—took a lager.

  Baldric removed the cork and brought the bottle to his nose for a quick smell before taking a hefty swig. “You made this!?” he blurted. “This has to be the best ale I’ve ever tasted!”

  William was shocked as well. “I swear I’m not just being nice—this is the best beer I’ve ever tasted.”

  “It’s like I told you. All our visitors leave with a belly full of beer. My great grandfather was a master brewer in his day. His formulas are a cherished family secret. I didn’t mention it before, but I’m known as the Bowman Brewer in the Golden Breast.”

  “A well-deserved title,” Baldric replied. “You’d put the Maidens Pearl out of business if you brought this to Havelmir.”

  Rhys laughed. “That’s a fitting name for a tavern, but my beers will never leave the Golden Breast. Nor will I. But I’m happy you’se like em, and there’s a lot more where that came from, so don’t be shy.”

  Baldric chugged the rest of his ale and grabbed another. “To the Bowman Brewer!” he said in a toast.

  Rhys opened one himself and the three of them clinked glasses.

  “First the deer, now the beers. You are a great host,” William said. “I have a friend back in Havelmir who would fit right in, in a place like this.”

  “You never told me you had a friend back in Havelmir?” Baldric said.

  “I met him in the dungeons,” William replied. “I never spoke of him before because I was supposed to meet him shortly after I was released … I still feel terrible for leaving him behind,” Will admitted, hanging his head in shame. “His name was Gus, and he was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

  “A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Baldric announced. “I promise you we’ll return to Havelmir one day and free your friend from that rotten city. Rhys, I’m a man of my word. I’ll never tell a soul about the Golden Breast. But for my friend Will here, may I tell Gus of this secluded haven?”

  Rhys looked at William and asked, “Can this man be trusted?”

  “I’d trust him with my life,” William replied.

  “Well, I can’t argue that. As long as he comes alone, I’d be more than happy to welcome him into our little town.”

  “Thank you,” William replied. He gave Baldric a respectful nod. “I appreciate it,” he said to his friend.

  Baldric simply grinned and tilted his beer—as if to say, no problem. “So, Rhys. Tell me, have you lived here your entire life?”

  “Born and raised. Me great grandfather moved out here after the Moorvek raided his village. He and the Brynmor family built the Inn on the west side of town. His picture still hangs above the bar.”

  “The Moorvek,” Baldric said. “I’ve never heard good things about them. They still live in the Dust Hills above Colt. A mere fraction of their former glory, I hear.”

  “Good! I wish ‘em all dead,” Rhys replied. “Bunch of savages and cowards, they are. Reaping and pillaging from small settlements. They’ll get what’s comin’ one day.”

  “Can we visit the Inn tomorrow?” William asked, wishing to change the subject. “I’d like to see one of the town’s oldest buildings. Especially if they serve more of this lager,” he added.

  “I wouldn’t let you’se leave with
out bringin’ ya to the Inn,” Rhys insisted. “The Gladsaxe is her name, and she’ll always show you a good time.”

  “I don’t doubt it! It’s a shame you don’t have more visitors. An empty Inn selling ale as good as this is a tragedy,” Baldric said.

  “Oh, it’s full up every night,” Rhys replied. “We don’t have a tavern in town, so everyone goes there to drink. Brittle Brynmore practically lives there. He has his own room and everything.”

  “The man with the stories you spoke of?” Baldric asked. “Looks like I know where I’m headed tomorrow.”

  Rhys picked up two more bottles from the crate beside him and handed them to both William and Baldric. “You said the Braxi were behind Rhan’s demise, right? How is it you managed to escape?”

  William took a long sip from his beer and looked at Baldric. “This is all you, my friend.”

  That signature grin appeared on Baldric’s face. “Well, it all started one night at the Maidens Pearl when I heard a few Braxi soldiers talking about their plan of attack. They meant to burn down the entire forest, and I heard how they were going to do it. You see, there’s this pyromancer working alongside them, and he had this oil that could burn down an entire tree in a matter of seconds, but then instantly cool. As if the heat expired into thin air. So my thought was that if this whole forest was to burn down around me, I could just hide under the ash and make a run for it after the fighting subsided. William here is just the lucky fella I decided to take along on my adventure.”

  Rhys let out a full-bellied laugh. “You truly are a crazy bastard, aren't ya? A clever bugger for sure, I’ll give ya that much. But crazy all the same.”

  “I thought the same thing!” William added.

  “Crazy is just a label. A moniker used by the faint of heart,” Baldric defended. “Your actions are what define you. I’m now a free man, drinking the best ale I’ve ever had, with a full belly and a smile brought on by the company of friends. If that’s crazy, then so be it.”

  “Fuck me,” Rhys responded. “Now I feel like the crazy one. Drink up, boy. I can’t have you outsmarting me in my own house!”

  They all shared a good laugh and carried on. Their palaver stretched late into the night.

  Eventually the drinks caught up with them, and their heavy eyes won the fight.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Stoney Forks

  Aleister peered down at the Braxi army from the height of Temperbailen’s towering stone walls. He had wished to join Dadro on his journey to meet with the new Lord of Stoneburg, but he understood the importance of his stay. Fordro’s recovery was of utmost importance, and Dadro was not willing to take any chances concerning such a matter.

  “I need you to stay here and look after Fordro,” Dadro had instructed. “I wouldn’t be able to guarantee your safety should Talfryn decide to attack. Their eagles are unpredictable—talons swoop down at you from every angle. I can’t risk you being carried off by one of those beasts.”

  Such concerns were undebatable. This Aleister knew, yet he still felt unwanted.

  “An army soon to grow,” Chancellor Raymund said, revealing his presence in the room.

  “Do you ever knock?” Aleister asked. “They say you have no feet under those robes of yours. Most believe you just float around like a ghost without a grave.”

  “Most believe whatever they are told,” Raymund quipped. “Rumours always prove to be more intriguing than truth. Why should I ruin everyone’s fun with a heavy pair of shoes?”

  “It seems silence isn’t the only thing you have in common with a serpent,” Aleister countered.

  A crusty grin formed under the old adviser’s wrinkled cheeks. “We’re not that different, you and I. Call me what you will. A serpent, a ghost, a vessel, whatever it may be … you and I still share common interests. We wish to see the Braxi prevail. It’s what we’re waiting for.”

  “I can’t argue with you there, my friend. Our goals may fall hand in hand, but my plans far exceed yours.”

  “Well, I should hope so,” Raymund replied. “You’re young yet, and a close friend of one of the most powerful rulers in Cellagor. Many opportunities lie in your future path.”

  “The future holds many things,” Aleister added. “And a dead prince may be one of them, if I don’t tend to his wounds.” He took his leave.

  ***

  Dadro sat atop his warhorse as if on a throne, envisioning the Braxi army behind him, draped in their black iron. With the recent infusion of both the Kelts and the Forguard to his army, he was able to leave half of his men behind guarding Havelmir for the duration of his absence.

  “You think three thousand will be enough?” Darith asked his King.

  “Four thousand if you count our new friends from the Ridglands,” Dadro answered. “They may not fight as well as the Braxi, but they can still kill.”

  Darith snuck a judging glare over his shoulder. He couldn’t tell the difference between the Kelts or the Forguard. He only saw a batch of frail men posing as warriors.

  “Besides, once we join with Hammond, we’ll outnumber Talfryn’s army by two thousand … as long as Oskar made it to Stoneburg in one piece,” Dadro added.

  “This is true,” Darith agreed. “At least Hammond’s men have been trained for battle. And I wouldn’t worry about Oskar. He’s a skilled fighter. I doubt he ran into any real trouble on the road.”

  “We shall find out soon enough,” Dadro said.

  He then turned his horse around so he was facing the Braxi army.

  “Most of you standing before me fought in the battle of Rhan!” Dadro shouted. “Our enemy to the north are nothing in comparison. Should they decide to attack, show them how the Elves fell!”

  Dadro’s words brought on a thundering cheer from his men. He turned back around and led his army through the Kingdom’s eastern gate.

  ***

  An ominous shadow crept over the rolling hillsides as Dadro and his army entered the lands of Hurdell. They had been marching at a steady pace all day, and would most likely have reached their destination had they continued through the night. But they were in no rush, and soon they would stop to set up camp—before the sun’s disappearance under the horizon.

  Dadro came to a halt once the High Hill of Eagles peeked out in the distance. He dismounted his horse and walked over to speak with the leader of the Kelts. “You there! Ivan, is it?” he asked.

  “Irvin, Your Grace,” the man answered.

  “Irvin, yes,” Dadro replied. “You’re familiar with these lands, correct? Is there a place we can set up camp for the night that will keep us out of Talfryn’s sights?”

  Irvin furrowed his brow in thought. This was the first time Dadro had spoken to him directly, and Dadro could see the nerves trembling in Irvin’s lips. “There’s a small grove not far from here, Sire. We could set up camp behind the tree line. It should hide us well enough.”

  “Very well,” Dadro replied. He walked back to his horse. “Alright, men. Follow the Ridglander! He knows a place where we can set up camp!”

  Irvin nodded and began leading the army to the small grove he had spoken of. With Hurdell being the vast grassland that it was, cover was hard to come by. The land was riddled with small hills and slopes rising and falling in every direction, yet if you were to look for a tree or a bit of brush, it could take you all day.

  Nevertheless, Irvin came through—and just in time. Darith’s patience was just about to run out. He was but a few steps away from giving up on the meandering Kelt. His Greatsword was in hand, and he was reluctant to put in away.

  “Breathe, my friend,” Dadro said. “It seems he knew where he was going after all.”

  Darith swallowed his anger and took his King’s advice. Dadro had always been able to somewhat keep his furious temper under control. However, shortly after their departure from Havelmir that morning, Dadro began to notice a negative change in Darith’s mood. At first, he figured his friend was just annoyed due to the early hour of his ro
use. But as the day went on, he knew there was something wrong. This had started eating away at him. Being King, he already had a lot on his mind. The last thing he needed was for his best fighter to be distracted while they were on the road.

  Shortly after arriving at the grove, Dadro road over to Irvin and handed him a large wineskin along with a few sausages. “For your help today,” he said. “You did well, but tomorrow is the real test. We leave at sunrise. You best be ready.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Irvin said. Dadro could see the shock in the man’s eyes, surprised by his kind gesture. He simply nodded and rode off without another word.

  It didn’t take long before the backside of the grove was decorated with large tents and drooping canopies. A few fires danced well into the night, warming those who slept around its glowing edge.

  The Braxi were close now. The Stoney Forks lay just a few miles ahead.

  ***

  Darith wobbled into King Dadro’s pavilion shortly after dinner.

  “Your Grace?” Darith gave a half-bow before joining Dadro at his table.

  Dadro finished slicing another bite of meat. He chewed through his intentional silence, before finally acknowledging his old friend.

  “Has the enemy found us? Or are you just fond of interrupting my supper?”

  A mischievous grin revealed Darith’s wine-stained teeth. “If those eagle fuckers found us, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I’d kill every last one of—”

  “Then why are you here? And why do you reek of wine? I need you ready for battle. Richard Arinfray is no fool. If he finds out we’re trekking through his homeland, he won’t hesitate to bring the fight to us! This whole trip is a risk. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. I trust you my friend … but please don’t make me regret my decision.”