A Sea of Cinders

by Adam Bishop

  “It’s like I said. We are allies unmet. We have come to help in whatever way we can. I have always been fascinated with your kind. Being a prisoner of war was simply my opportunity to escape a lifetime of slavery. All I ask is for a chance to further explain. A peaceful palaver with you and your Lord.”

  “You may have a silver tongue, but I see honesty in your eyes. You’re either very stupid or very brave. What information do you have concerning Rhan?”

  “A great deal. I would tell you here and now, but it’s quite a long story. Wouldn’t you rather only have to hear it once?”

  The Elf let out a short sigh. “Very well, remove your weapons and follow me. Your horses will be brought to the stables along with your things. I’m sure Lord Thinduill will have many questions. I know I do.”

  William and Baldric unarmed themselves and left their weapons with their horses.

  The Elf leading them tried to refrain from speaking as he guided them through the forest—however, it didn’t take long before Baldric jumped into conversation. “Those daggers you carry are beautiful! Are they inspired by Goban’s craftmanship? I’ve read many books about his forge in Leof Ealdwin. Is it still kindled?” Baldric asked.

  “You speak a lot for a stranger in Elven dress. I’d worry about explaining yourself furthermore before anything else.”

  “My apologies. An introduction, if you will: my name is Baldric Algar and this is William Reid, a fisherman whose home is the sea,” he said patting his friend on the shoulder. “As for the clothes, well, we simply borrowed them from those who no longer needed them.”

  “Robbing the dead is frowned upon here,” the Elf replied. “Though I’m sure you already knew that considering your vast knowledge of the Elves.”

  William elbowed Baldric in the side and whispered, “Shut it, before you get us put in chains. Just wait until we speak to Lord Thinduill.”

  The Elf let out a wispy chuckle. “No need to worry about that, little man. We keep no prisoners here.”

  Was that a good thing or a bad thing? No prisoners could only mean one of two things; either you were killed, or you were set free. William hoped it was the latter. “My friend here likes to talk too much, but I assure you he means well. We did bring gifts from The Golden Breast. Ales brewed by Rhys the Bowman Brewer. He told us to offer them as a sign of good faith. You can find them in one of the saddlebags.”

  “Friends of Rhys from The Golden Breast are you?” the Elf questioned. “A good man. I do hope you didn’t rob him too.”

  William felt stupid for opening his mouth. He couldn’t blame this Elf for being overly cautious, even if his assumptions were wrong. After all—they were in a time of war, and two humans wearing Elven clothes brought on a great deal of skepticism.

  The remainder of their hike held an awkward silence. They walked along a half-hidden pathway that forked off multiple times across the forest floor. William and Baldric took note of this, realizing it would have taken them days to find the Kingdom had they been on their own. The forest was a stunning sight to behold, lush with exotic plants of all kinds. Still, it was a maze, and could easily become the resting place for any unwary traveller.

  As they passed tree after tree, Baldric realized the forest was beginning to thin out. He knew they were getting close. His imagination started to paint a picture in his mind, and when they reached the elegant stone archway at the entrance of the Kingdom, his eyes widened in awe.

  The Elven Kingdom flourished across the land like a scattered array of masterfully constructed artworks. Smooth stone towers and luxuriant structures of all kinds rested amongst the wildlife. Colourful vines and flowers wrapped around every building. Countless ironwoods connected stone hallways, and some of the smaller houses were built around lavish oak and yew trees which grew out above the open-faced roofs. Seeing this beautiful Elven Kingdom allowed William and Baldric to rebuild their memories of Rhan. Their imaginations filled in the missing pieces, reconstructing the architecture that the Braxi had so carelessly battered into rubble.

  “Welcome to the Kingdom of the Veil,” the Elf said. “Few humans have ever set foot here. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

  As they made their way through town, both William and Baldric were lost admiring the foreign design of the Elven Kingdom. Baldric especially felt like he was walking through a dream. The books he had read hadn’t even come close to describing the elegant beauty surrounding him. Much like Rhan, the Elven Kingdom of the Veil crawled across the forest like an ancient work of art. It rested its stone backbone amid the thriving nature which—over time—became its mortar.

  And although they were distracted by the Elven Forest’s stunning masonry, William couldn’t help but notice the absence of other Elves. At first, he assumed they had simply retreated to their homes on account of two humans being present. But then he considered this type of reaction and realized it didn’t fit with the description of this valiant, harmonious race. He tried to push the thought aside, but even after entering the interior of the castle, he still saw few Elves. All of the courtyards were empty. The soldier’s barracks looked vacant and the entire fortress seemed barren inside and out. He was beginning to think the only Elves in the entire Kingdom were the ones who flanked them in the forest earlier that day.

  The Elf leading them through the castle stopped in front of a pair of large wooden doors which, like the rest of the Kingdom, were covered in skillful carvings rich in Elven lore.

  “A messenger was sent ahead of our party. Lord Thinduill awaits us inside. Let’s hope your information fares you well,” the Elf said. He entered the throne room, gesturing William and Baldric in as well. “Lord Thinduill,” he announced with a respectable bow. “I have brought two humans who we found wandering through the Veil. Baldric Algor and William Reid. They claim to have information concerning Rhan, my Lord.”

  Thinduill rose from his throne and made his way over to the three of them. “Thank you, Faron.” He said with a nod. He then turned his majestic gaze towards the newcomers. “Please come join me in the Birch Garden. It is far too nice a day to spend slouching indoors.”

  William and Baldric were shocked by such an unorthodox welcoming. To see someone of his status ignore the practice of traditional customaries and greet them as equals was unheard of. Slowly but surely, the two of them shook the confusion from their minds and followed the two Elves outside.

  “Please, take a seat,” Thinduill insisted holding out an open palm to the stone table in front of them. As the young men were seated, Lord Thinduill remained standing. He studied the intruders with searching eyes and stoic silence. He allowed the silence to stretch out.

  “So, I am to believe you two have come to my aid, yes?” his voice quickly fell into a more serious tone.

  Baldric stood and bowed before speaking. “It is an honour to meet you, Lord Thinduill. Your Kingdom is truly a work of art. My friend and I have travelled all the way from Havelmir to speak with you. We know who set fire to Rhan and how they were capable of such destruction. I brought Lord Brannor’s sword with me as a sign of respect. A gift to show our good faith.”

  Faron handed Lord Thinduill the sword. He took it and carefully inspected its hilt. “This is Lord Brannor’s, there’s no doubting that. I carved the original design for him myself before it was cast. But picking up a sword and bringing it here out of respect, and being given a sword and told to act as friend … those are both believable stories, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I have always idolized the Elves, my Lord. I assure you I speak the truth,” Baldric’s eyes grew wider with every passing word.

  “He’s telling the truth,” William put in. “I grew up at sea, I’ve always feared the Elves, but Baldric convinced me you were a peaceful race. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But you have to consider our current situation. Faron has already come across one enemy spy, and now he finds two humans willfully entering our forest. The las
t human to enter these woods was—”

  “Brittle Brynmor,” Baldric said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “We ate dinner with him not but two moons ago. He asked me to give you this,” Baldric pulled the silk-wrapped gift from his pack and handed it to Thinduill. “He said it was a gift for teaching him how to carve … and that he was very sorry.”

  Thinduill slowly unwrapped the gift. He felt his heart sink as he admired it, and his eyes began to glaze over with tears.

  Brynmor had carved him a willow tulip—his late wife’s favourite flower. He held it in his hands for a long few moments before wrapping it back up and tucking it into his breast pocket.

  “Thank you, Brynmor,” Thinduill whispered to the floor. He looked up and said, “Faron, go find Galdrinor and Avolin. These two are telling the truth. They may possess the answers we’ve been looking for.”

  Faron looked at them all in disbelief. A moment passed before he rushed out of the Birch Garden.

  The sudden surprise that these two humans had come bearing the truth distracted him, which left him unaware of Arnion’s hidden presence within the throne room. Surprised yet relieved, Arnion continued to eavesdrop on the conversation playing out in the Birch Garden.

  Thinduill turned his attention back to William and Baldric and bowed before both of them. “I apologize for questioning your honesty,” he said with a heavy heart. “Your journey here will not go without reward. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Please tell me everything you know, for it is clear that the Gods have chosen to protect you. As will I, from here on out. Please, tell me—who set fire to Rhan?” Thinduill asked.

  “It was the Braxi. They were aided by a pyromancer named Aleister. William and I were prisoners of war, promised our freedom if we took part in the war against your kind. I found out it was all a ploy and devised a plan for us to escape,” Baldric answered.

  Thinduill was rendered speechless. A look of near devastation fell over him. “The Braxi,” he muttered. “They have set a trap then … and I fell right into it. Avolin … she was right.”

  “What trap?” William asked. “Now you know who the enemy is. Dadro’s plan has fallen apart.”

  “No, Young one. It has gone exactly as he planned,” said Thinduill. He let out a deep sigh and continued, “Word from the capital has already come. Orrinelmborn ordered that I send my army to Talfryn. They left two days ago.”

  Now William understood why the Kingdom seemed so empty. His feeling of security began to fade. “You mean to say the Veil is unprotected?” he asked.

  “Wait!” Baldric intervened. “We just passed through Larin … there was no sign of any army?”

  “And there shouldn’t be,” Thinduill replied. “They left by boat. The river routes are far safer than travelling on foot. A longer journey, yes—but the road holds far more dangers and no northerners will expect an army to come out of the Lake Pools of Tar. As for the safety of the Viridian Veil—Orrinelmborn has sent a portion of his army to watch over the Kingdom for the time being. However, I have sent my kin into a trap. They must be warned immediately!”

  “But Talfryn has always been a friend to the Elves,” Baldric interrupted. “They won’t attack without reason.”

  “They won’t have to,” Thinduill replied. “Dadro means to flank them as they pass through Havelmir. They’ll never make it to Talfryn … and they were never meant to. He used the Arinfray as bait. Made us believe they were the enemy. They must be warned.”

  “I could go!” Baldric suggested. “My horse is fast. She knows the meaning of haste.”

  “A stout heart you have,” Thinduill said. “But I will send Faron. He is faster than any rider I know. He moves like a ghost in the wind. Besides, you know too much and I too little. You must tell me everything from start to finish. Don’t leave anything out. Sometimes the smallest details are the ones that reveal the most.”

  A subtle sound then caught Thinduill’s ear—but when he turned to see what it was, nothing but shadow and light sat in his view. He turned back to the young men.

  What he had heard was Arnion storming off, enraged by what he had just learned. He made sure no one saw him leave that night. And with the distraction of Baldric telling his tale, none would learn of his disappearance until the next day… so he hoped.

  Baldric sat back down to tell his story. He began much the same as he had with William during their march to Rhan—only this version would be much longer than when he first told it.

  By the time he was describing the burning of Rhan, Faron had returned with both Avolin and Galdrinor. Avolin’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the two humans, but she did her best to stay composed. She had met many mortals before—their race wasn’t what had caused her surprised reaction. She had seen William and Baldric earlier that morning in a vision, one that had shaken her to her core. But she knew the telling of such news would have to wait. Its importance would have a huge impact on the coming war.

  “And that’s when we buried ourselves under the ash,” Baldric continued, now speaking in front of an audience of Elves. “The next thing we heard was the sound of Dadro’s army advancing toward the forest.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  The Battle of Rhan

  Dadro marched his army to the crippled Elven wood ahead. The rear of the forest burned and lit up the ash of a thousand fallen trees before it. Smoke filled the air and the smoke from those which had already met their fate followed close behind. The ancient forest was quickly becoming a graveyard for both friend and foe. Its once lush body of trees, leaves, and seedling was now being reduced to a field of ash and blackened bones.

  “Regroup!” Dadro yelled, calling back his men who were blindsided by the wildlife of Rhan. “Regroup! Form a wall!” Dadro watched impatiently as his men fell back to his position. “Phalanx!” His voice echoed with stern confidence, inspiring his men. The idea of defeat was not an option—his men knew this, and now they were prepared to die for his cause. His army grouped close together, forming a giant wall of black iron scales. They awaited his command.

  “Your shields are bricks and your arms are the mortar! There is no room for a weak link this day. We are the Braxi! We do not fall!” Dadro’s words brought forth an earth-shattering cheer. The ground shook underneath him as his war drums erupted in unison.

  “MAAARCH!” his voice shot across the ocean of ash and carried all the way to the Elven Kingdom in the distance.

  His men marched toward the Kingdom of Rhan. The beat of the war drums helped keep them in formation. Slowly but surely, the black-scaled phalanx crept towards the exposed Elven city. The Braxi were a giant steel wall of onyx hovering across a fallen bed of ash. It didn’t take long before the Elves responded with endless waves of arrows. Steel heads came screaming down on the Braxi army with formidable accuracy. Every arrow challenged their formation, every archer yearning to find a weak spot. Most of the Braxi in the front line were pierced in the ankle or foot. Still, they pushed onward, somehow ignoring the pain brought on by each weighted step.

  Dadro dismounted his warhorse and moved to the front of the phalanx to lead his men. He laughed off each arrow that came his way, deflecting them with his hulking tower shield. “Come now, men! Quicken the pace. Don’t let these Elven splinters slow you down!” Dadro could feel the hearts of his soldiers strengthen as they watched him move forward. “The Kingdom is close now. Ready yourselves, men. And may no Braxi fall to these woodlings!”

  Once the Braxi reached the entrance to the Elven Kingdom, the phalanx broke apart and the clang of steel echoed into the midnight hour.

  ***

  With no surrounding walls and the protection of the forest burned away, the Braxi flowed into the Elven city like a river breaking free from a dam. Their battle was quickly becoming a slaughter. The Braxi outnumbered the Elves six to one. And despite their skill, the Elven line of defence was dwindling. It had now become a battle of numbers and the Elves would soon have none.

  “Take the forest away and th
ey die just as easy as any man,” Dadro said as he approached his brother and Aleister. Beads of crimson lingered on both his beard and his war hammer, replacing one another after every slow drip. “A kingdom with no walls,” he said with detest. “This fight will be over before the night’s end. Brother, you and Aleister will take a hundred men and lead them up around the Kingdom to the main keep north of here. Most of the archers are held up in a tower in the centre of town, so your path should be safe. We can flank the remaining Elves once we reach the throne room.”

  Fordro nodded and called his men forward. “I shall see you soon brother. May your hammer strike true.”

  “And may your sword feast on the enemy,” Dadro replied. “Make me proud, little brother. Don’t let your first true fight be your last.”

  ***

  Dadro’s words strengthen Fordro as he led his brigade of Braxi soldiers around the edge of the crumbling Elven Kingdom. He wanted to impress his brother and king, and prove that he was more than just a kind-hearted heir to the throne. He didn’t dislike his reputation as being the congenial Prince of the People—but at the same time, he didn’t want such proclamations getting in the way of who he really was.

  “Ready yourself, men! The heart of the battle may be behind us, but those who underestimate their enemies rarely live to tell the tale.”

  Seconds after Fordro spoke, a calculated onslaught of arrows wiped out a quarter of his infantry within a silent second. The rogue arrows came silently, imminently, and out of nowhere. Aside from the thud of each arrow making impact, nothing else was heard. Fordro and his men stood frozen in place for a lingering moment.

  “Shields!” Fordro screamed, urging his men out of their frozen state. “Where are they?” he asked. He spoke to himself and Aleister in one breath.

  “I could not say, Your Grace. But I know that if we stay here, we will all die,” Aleister said. “I have a way out, but I can’t guarantee all of us will make it.”