A Sea of Cinders

by Adam Bishop

  Thindull raised his hand, cutting Baldric off mid-sentence. “A moment … I need a moment.”

  The room shared a much-needed stretch of silence. Baldric had gone on for nearly thirty minutes, and Thinduill was not alone in needing a few seconds of peace and quiet to process everything.

  “That is quite the tale,” said Thinduill, breaking the silence. “Your act of valour will not be overlooked. I gladly offer both of you residence in my kingdom for as long as you like. You will be protected here, and whatever coin you have shall remain yours. There is plenty of food and drink. I’m not sure if you understand the importance of the information you have brought us today … may my offer of hospitality be the first of many thanks,” Thinduill concluded. He bowed to them in respect.

  “Shall I show them to some rooms?” asked Galdrinor. “I assume you’d like to keep them close at hand? If so, I know just the place.”

  Thinduill nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Galdrinor. Do return shortly though … we still have much to discuss.”

  “Wait!” Avolin said, stepping forward. “I … I’ve seen them before,” she pointed at William and Baldric. “In a vision. A horrible vision … I’m positive it was them.”

  “You had another vision?” Thinduill said. “When, today?”

  She nodded. “Just a few hours before they arrived. I was coming to tell you about it, but you were informing Faron of his mission. Then blond one was in the middle of his story … I figured it best to wait.”

  “The name’s Baldric. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Your beauty is—”

  William elbowed Baldric in the side and shot him a glare.

  “What was it about this vision, Avolin?” Thinduill asked, ignoring Baldric.

  Avolin’s closed her eyes. Her body started shaking as she described it, “They were surrounded by death … so much death. Corpses lay everywhere. Thousands of them, as far as the eye could see. Only … they were still alive, and they were suffering. I could hear them moaning, begging to reach the afterlife. And then I saw it … The Book of No Quarter. It was calling out to one of the mortals. I don’t know which one; they were both standing over it. I saw a pair of hands pick it up … and then darkness overcame me. Solid darkness, blacker than I have ever known.” Avolin’s eyes sprung open. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she pointed at William and Baldric. “These two are tied to The Book of No Quarter. Their quest is far from over.”

  A shiver of fear trickled down William’s spine. He’d thought himself safe, finally. But now a new development was thrusting him into danger once again. It seemed to follow him wherever he went.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Arnion’s Revenge

  Arnion had ridden tirelessly for the past five days, after hearing what Baldric had said in the Birch Gardens. Since then, thoughts of killing the Northern tyrant consumed him.

  Part of him knew travelling to Havelmir on his own was a foolish idea. Especially since he wasn’t exactly sure how to get there. But his anger overwhelmed his stunted voice of reason. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see were the flames that haunted him the day he fled from Rhan.

  The only ounce of reason left in him was the well-being of his horse, his best friend, Thalian. He made sure to spend portions of each night walking alongside him so he could rest awhile, and he left him behind to sleep as he trekked on through the last hours of darkness before dawn. Thalian would always catch up with him early the next morning. Even as a horse, he could tell Arnion was pushing himself too far. This often led to Thalian refusing to move until Arnion had something to eat or drink. The bond they shared had always been a strong one, and Thalian wasn’t ready to lose his friend a second time.

  A small village peeked out in the distance late into that fifth day of riding. Arnion wasn’t sure if this spit of land held friend or foe. He had never travelled this far north before, and he was unsure of how anyone would treat an Elf. He assumed that his chances of finding any friendly welcomers were pretty slim.

  Nevertheless, he rode into town. It was pouring rain that evening, which worked out to his advantage. It allowed him to wear his hood without seeming conspicuous, which in turn hid any foreign features that would otherwise make him stand out. Few people walked the streets that evening because of the rain, but the few that did weren’t attracted to his presence one bit. This led him to believe that many people passed through the small town quite regularly—a comforting thought. He found himself riding up to an inn. Hot Pie, it was called. He decided it would be the perfect place to have a bite to eat and find someone who could give him directions to Havelmir. He slid off his saddle and led Thalian to a large yew tree just outside the inn.

  “You rest here a while, boy. Keep out of the rain. I’ll be back soon,” Arnion said, stroking Thalian’s muzzle. As he walked toward the inn, he turned and yelled out, “Stay out of trouble and I’ll bring you back an apple!”

  A drunk couple stumbled out of Hot Pie just as he was about to reach for the door. He held it open for them as they wobbled off into the rain. Before he went in, he stood staring into the clamoring, candlelit ale-house. He had never seen anything like it before. People laughing and drinking with no restraint, women dancing and flirting only to pick the pockets of drunken men who were too far gone to notice. Games of dice and cards he had never seen before, giant mugs of ale big enough to last him two nights. He felt like he was about to walk into another world all together.

  A minstrel began playing a song he had never heard before. The tune caught his ear momentarily, but Arnion judged the minstrel’s playing to be mediocre compared to the Elves. Upon entering, a cloaked man smelling of foul herb knocked into him and left without apology. Arnion knew to ignore any confrontation, so he let it go and took a seat at one of the few remaining empty tables. He waited patiently for someone to greet him.

  A woman twice his size with a hairy upper lip rested her gut next to his arm. She leaned in to take his order. “What’ll it be then, handsome? A pint of ale? A bite to eat? We’re famous for our kidney pie here … or are you just lookin’ for a pair to fondle for the night?” she said with a rotten grin.

  “I’ll just have an ale, with a plate of bread and cheese if you have it,” he replied.

  “Well of course, my dear. Anything for a looker like you.”

  Arnion was humoured. He’d never considered a human woman finding him attractive. Most would be repulsed by the thought of an Elf, though he figured this woman would be lucky to bed anything prettier than a goat. Before the barmaid had a chance to return with his food, a spry looking older fella took the seat in front of him.

  “Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Just passin’ through, or you come for work?” he asked in a cheery tone. His golden-grey hair was tied back in a thin mess of a bun, and he appeared a touch cleaner than everyone else in the room.

  “Just passing through,” Arnion replied. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to wait out the rain a bit.”

  “Aye. She’s pissin’ out a storm, she is. This your first time in Kent?” he asked. “You’re just a young laddie, you are. Can’t say we see too many youths unpackin’ here,” he added.

  “First time here. I’m on my way to Havelmir. You wouldn’t happen to know how much further it is, would you?”

  The spry old man let out a raspy laugh. “You don’t say? I spent the last fifteen years in that city. Hard city, it is. Some may even say it’s a bit of an acquired taste, really. But it’s not all that bad once you get used to it.”

  “I’m sure it’s not,” Arnion said, unconvincingly. “So, could you tell me how to get there, then?”

  “It would be my pleasure, laddie. It ain’t far now, honestly. Just follow the road going north from here. Once you see the path fork off, stay left and follow Jotunn Road till you see the kingdom. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest kingdom in all of Cellagor.”

  Arnion nodded. “Well thank you, uh … sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “The name’s
Gus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, laddie,” the old man said reaching out to shake his hand. “What do they call you then?”

  Arnion froze for a second while he tried to come up with a human name. “Well … ah, William,” he said, remembering one of the names of the two humans from the Birch Gardens.

  “William! You don’t say? You know, I came to this town hoping to find a young lad of the same name. He and I met in the prisons a while back. I promised him a pint of ale and a run around with a fine gal or two, but he up and disappeared right around the same time the Braxi went to war with the Elves. I hope the young lad is alright, I do. I heard the Braxi killed a bundle of prisoners they tricked into fighting for them. Oh, curses … I’m sorry … I wasn’t supposed to say that … just a rumour I heard about the Braxi. Probably just a drunken mouthful from some chum looking to tell a story is all.”

  Arnion couldn’t believe what he just heard. Is this man really friends with one of those humans? he thought. It can’t be… what are the chances this would happen? Out of all the people in here, he chose to sit and speak with me …

  Arnion’s long pause made Gus think he had just blurted out something that he shouldn’t have. He began to worry, and he wondered if Arnion was some sort of new recruit for the Braxi army.

  “Come to think of it, I’ve had one too many drinks tonight. I say all kinds of shite when I’m drunk, I do. Sorry to bother you, sir. I’ll leave you be,” Gus said nervously as he stood from his seat.

  “Wait!” Arnion grabbed Gus by the arm and brought him back to his chair. “How well do you know William?” he asked. “Were you close? Are you truly his friend?” Arnion’s tone became serious. His stare pleaded for the truth.

  Gus was hesitant to answer, but then he realized the look in Arnion’s eyes was a desperate cry for help. “You know William?” he asked, still unsure if they were talking about the same person.

  “Short man, curly brown hair, seems kind at heart. He grew up at sea, if I’m not mistaken.”

  A quick smile grew on Gus’s face. “William, that’s the one! He’s alive then? Safe and well?”

  Arnion nodded.

  “Bless the Eternal Gardens! I’ve been praying to The Planter for weeks. The poor laddie lives! He lives!” Gus shouted. “Bertha! A round of drinks for me and my new friend!”

  Arnion looked around to make sure Gus hadn’t drawn too much attention to them. He raised his hand and flagged it at Gus, signalling the old-timer to simmer down. “Easy, old man. I understand your excitement, but try to understand this is far more important than it may seem.”

  Before Arnion could continue, the bushy-lipped barmaid returned with his platter of bread and cheese, along with the extra drinks Gus had called for. “‘Er ya are, lads. Enjoy.”

  Arnion picked up his tankard of ale and guzzled half of it to calm his nerves. “William is alive and well, yes. He’s a ways south of here. Now, listen. Would you be willing to do me a favour if I told you where he was?”

  “Any friend of William’s is a friend of mine,” Gus said with a bold tongue. “I knew there was something special about ya when youse walked in here. That’s why I took this seat right here. I like to think I have a certain quality—”

  Arnion cut him off, “Listen. I don’t have much time! What I’m about to ask you is no small favour. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  Gus locked eyes with Arnion, taking into account the serious nature of his last few words. “I may come across as a jaunty old feller, but when blood and friends cross paths, ain’t no one more reliable than old Gus, I tell ya.”

  “Good. I believe you. And I may look young, but I’m far older than you may think. I can tell when someone is lying and I can also tell when someone is genuine. You Gus, you’re an honest man. This I know is true, and so I’m going to trust you with something … have you ever met an Elf?”

  Gus shot open his eyes. The closer he looked, the easier it was to see the truth for what it really was. Arnion slid his hands into his hood and lifted it from his head for a second. Gus became stiff, frozen in awe. He had never seen an Elf before, let alone conversed with one. “You’re a … in here … in front of all these people!”

  Just when Arnion began to think he had made a mistake; Gus lowered his voice.

  “Sorry, laddie. I’ll pipe down … I just can’t believe I’ve finally met an Elf! I’ve always wanted to meet one … well, not one. It’s just your kind is rather rare, that’s all … uh, no, now I’m not saying you’re a unicorn or anything … there’s a lot of you, I know that … it’s just, well …sorry, I’ll shut it now.”

  Gus somehow managed to bring the slightest smile to Arnion’s face. A welcome reprieve after the seriousness of his journey. “You said you lived in Havelmir for some time, yes?” he said.

  Gus nodded. “Aye, I know it inside and out, I do.”

  “I was hoping you would say that,” he said with a grin. “I need a way in. A route with few guards and even fewer eyes. Do you understand?”

  “I hear ya, lad. I know what ya mean. But I must warn you—once you’re inside, a meeting with steel will be waiting for you around every corner … but I also have a feeling you already know that,” Gus said, tilting his drink towards Arnion. “There is one way I know of. One weak spot in the curtain of stone surrounding the kingdom.”

  Arnion cupped his tankard with both hands and leaned in closer to hear what the old man was going to tell him next.

  “I use to work as a fishmonger at the docks near the rear of the kingdom. During the day, the docks are swimmin’ with guards. But at night, most of the guards take to their post patrolling the wall walk. The remaining Braxi guard the three main gates. There’s one in the north, one south, and one on the east side. Thing is, there’s one more entrance to the Kingdom most people don’t know about,” Gus said. He raised his brow and went on, “There’s a small storehouse at the far edge of the docks. I never thought anything of it really. It’s just a place to keep old nets and extra oars. But then I started noticing something. Braxi soldiers were leaving this old warehouse without ever going inside to start with. I found it odd. I may be old, but me eyes still work just fine, bless the gods. So, one night I waited till it grew dark before closing up shop. Then I let meself in and sniffed around a little … and wouldn’t you know it, I found a bloody trapdoor fixed into the floor. I only meant to peek inside. Honest. I didn’t dare go down those steps. But, if you ask me I’d bet they lead all the way into the kingdom. The best part is, it’s left unattended after the sun goes down. So, if you plan on sneakin’ into the kingdom, that’s surely your best bet.”

  Arnion raised his drink for a toast. “I can’t say how much I appreciate you sharing this information with me. You’ll be aptly rewarded for this, I assure you.” Arnion then took out a small parchment and began inking a message. “Here,” he said holding out a finger-sized scroll to Gus. “Give this to Lord Thinduill once you meet with William. He’ll pay you.”

  “Lord who? I don’t even know where William is, Laddie. You’ll have to tell me first.”

  “Yes, right. Sorry, my mind is lost in thought,” he replied, shaking his head. “William is staying with the Elves of the Viridian Veil. Like I said, it’s a ways south from here and you probably have no clue how to get there. Worry not. There’s an Elf by the name of Faron on his way to the Eastern Lake Pools of Tar as we speak. Meet with him there and tell him everything. If he still doubts you, tell him I said I’m looking forward to our next bout in the glade. You know how to get to Tar, do you not?” Arnion asked, taking note of the distressed look on Gus’ face.

  “Yes, yes, I know the way … sorry, this is just a lot to take in all at once!”

  Arnion stood and placed a hand on Gus’ shoulder. “You’re a good man. An honest man. Probably the only one in this tavern. Don’t waste such a short life doubting yourself, my friend. Go find William and deliver my message. As I said, it’s a matter of life and death. Prove your loyalty.”

  B
efore Gus could respond, Arnion disappeared from the inn like a shadow from the light.

  ***

  The rain was merely a soft drizzle by the time Arnion reached the borders of Havelmir. He eyed the colossal kingdom, pushing onward. Finally, the echoing sound of hooves made it no longer safe to ride.

  “This is far enough, boy. I’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.” He slid off the saddle with a lingering sense of regret and ran his fingers through Thalian’s mane. “I have to do this, boy. I know I shouldn’t go. But it’s something I have to do.” Arnion rested his forehead against Thalian’s muzzle and did his best to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to stop. “You mustn’t follow me … you can’t. If they see you, you’ll become a slave horse. And we both know how that will end.”

  Thalian raised his head and let out a quarreling nicker.

  “Don’t worry about me, boy. They won’t see me. I’ll be back … I promise I’ll retu—”

  Arnion stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He wouldn’t lie to his best friend. “If I don’t return by sunset, you must go back to the Veil. Do you understand? It’s not safe here. Thinduill will make sure you’re looked after. I love you, boy. More than anything in this world.”

  He kissed Thalian on the snout. When his face began burning with growing tears, he lowered his head in regret and ran off into the night.

  Every step Arnion took was weighed down with guilt. He felt a strong urge to look back at his friend, but his stubborn mind and vengeful heart helped keep him focused on the task at hand. As he drew closer to the enemy kingdom, his movements became silent—like a leaf drifting across the bladed ground.

  He could hear the soothing sound of the ocean folding into the docks. I’m close now, he thought. Find the storehouse and keep a keen eye out for any guards.