by Rosie Scott
Needless to say, it was a miserable night, spent cold and soaked under tents that did little to keep the pelting rains off of us. I woke up in the morning feeling as if I'd barely slept. Within an hour or two of resuming our journey, the rains ceased, as if mocking us.
“This Cerin better be the hottest of the hot,” Nyx teased me, just as the first sounds of the ocean met our ears. Out of all of us, Nyx was the least miserable. The heavy rains and lack of direct sunlight had been more comfortable for her than the previous hot and dry weather.
“He better be here. If he is, then we'll worry about his hotness,” I replied, in jest. In reality, that was my main concern. If I were honest with myself, I didn't even think we would find Cerin here. I normally had a good intuition, and it wasn't anxious about seeing him again, which meant I probably wouldn't. Regardless, I wanted to find out as much information as possible about what had happened all those years ago, if his family or neighbors knew anything at all. It would at least ease my mind about the college's secrecy when it came to one of their most promising students.
Rising smoke in the sky was the first bit of Thornwell we saw over the last hill before the ocean. Then, the small village opened itself up to us. It was far bigger than Amere, and much better built. Cabins made out of stone and thick wood dotted the beach and the plains immediately by it. The village had a few different docks, some attached to buildings that sat above the ocean on pilings. Boats were tied to the docks in various places; most were small fishing boats, though an impressively sized merchant ship swayed beside a large trade building, its wood creaking and sails flapping thickly in the wind.
The people here looked to be pretty poor, though self-sustaining. A man in commoner's clothing chopped wood beside one of the cabins, a wagon full of logs beside him. A corral nearby held a few pigs and chickens.
There were men, women, and children moving about the small village, working or fishing or transporting. It seemed as though everyone was a cog in a singular machine, and to watch it all was intriguing. While Thornwell did report to and pay taxes to Sera, it was so far removed from its mother city that the civilian hierarchy was non-existent. In Sera, there were clear differences in the classes of its people. Here, everyone was working together.
Our presence was soon noted. A middle aged human man was the first to approach us. He had been in the middle of descaling fresh fish at an outdoor butcher's table in an open shack, but came to see us with nothing more than a wipe of his bloody hands on his apron and a smile on his face.
“Hail, strangers,” he greeted, eyeing us with curiosity. He didn't seem to much care about Nyx, though he did take a second glance at her. Most above ground mortals had immense fear or hatred of Alderi elves, and usually for good reason. Perhaps he was smart enough to realize she was with us and not a threat, given two humans and a Celdic elf trusted her.
After we all greeted the man, he asked, “Here to trade?”
“Trade, shelter, and information is what we seek,” I replied. The man focused his attention on me, figuring me for the group's leader.
“Well, you can trade with anyone here, but if you go up to the trading hub on the dock—” he pointed at the biggest building on pilings beside the large merchant ship “—Tiana there can direct you to where to go and take any supplies or goods you have and give you coin. Our inn is the two story building poking its head up over those cabins there.” He nodded toward his right, where I looked to see the taller building. “It doesn't look like much, but it's the last inn you'll see for quite a ways in either direction, and it's quite popular with the merchants and sailors. As for information, what is it you're looking for?”
“I'm looking for a man who used to live here, about ten years ago or so.”
“Ten years, you say?” The man asked, before nodding back toward the inn. “I just moved here a couple of years ago, myself. I would go to the inn and ask Red. If she didn't know him, she might know who you can go to.” He hesitated. “Not a criminal, is he?”
I smiled. “I would hope not. Just a former friend and classmate.”
He nodded. “Aye. I hope you find him, then.”
We said our thanks and goodbyes to the man, who went back to descaling his fish. I turned to our small group, where everyone seemed unwilling to split up.
Nyx looked at Theron and Silas. “Why don't you two take our loot to the trade hub? Kai and I can get started at the inn. Check the place out.”
Theron glanced down at his satchels. Both he and Silas had been carrying the loot, while Nyx and I had been in charge of the tents and other supplies. “Sounds like a plan.” Though Silas looked a little reluctant to leave my side, he said nothing, and the two men went to follow our plan.
Nyx glanced at me. “I figured you wouldn't be as willing to talk about Cerin with the innkeeper if Silas was glaring over your shoulder.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
We started walking toward the inn, our supplies heavy on our shoulders. It would be bliss to be able to have a warm meal and bed for the night, and somewhere to put our stuff. Thornwell was a little less than half of the way from Sera to Whispermere, so to know this would be one of the last inns on the way there was daunting.
“You told him why we are here, I'm assuming? He didn't seem too shocked to hear you tell that fisherman about it.”
“Theron told him we were coming here. Silas asked me why on the night of the attack.” I watched as a little boy walked by us, a fishing pole and a bucket full of bait in his hands.
“And he wasn't angry?”
“Didn't seem to be. He remembered Cerin's name, though, which was a surprise. It was years ago that I told him the story about his disappearance and the college waving me off about it.”
“He remembers because he's not stupid,” Nyx commented. “You were mostly a pre-teen when you knew Cerin, right? There's only one reason why a girl that age wants to befriend a boy. Silas is probably jealous because he knows you had the hots for the guy.”
I gritted my teeth. “He doesn't have the right to be jealous. We're not together, so it's none of his business.”
Nyx nodded. “Right. So let's find this guy and get you laid.”
“Nyx.”
She only giggled.
The inn was much larger on the inside than the outside would have one believe. The front door was on the far right-side of the building, leaving the entire floor open to the left as soon as we walked in. For a village that wasn't very large, it was a nicely sized inn equipped with a small stage for musicians or performers. Small tables dotted the floor save for a dance area next to the stage, and the bar was directly ahead, as long as the building itself except for a stairway to the right of it that led up to the rooms. Clean mugs hung from pegs above the bar, and alcohols of various types were lined up on three shelves behind the innkeeper.
As for the innkeeper, I saw why the man had called her Red. Her hair was as red as mine, and this was notable because it was rare. It wasn't the orangey-red like Bjorn had, it was the deep red that many leaves would become in the middle of Red Moon. Because of how deep the color was, I instantly wondered if she had the ability to wield fire. With a glance at her hands, I noticed she wasn't wearing any rings. Most mages did, since spells were more accurate and strong when transmitted through metal, though the lack of jewelry didn't discount the notion.
Red was an extremely obese woman, but I had the inkling that she was able to act as her own guard, so there were probably muscles beneath the bulk of her weight. She smiled when we approached the bar, exuding the same friendliness of our greeter outside; however, I had the feeling she could be extremely mean when the situation called for it.
“Welcome, ladies. Looking for a room? Exotic ales?” She took a step to the side, waving toward the shelves of alcohol behind her. I could practically hear Nyx salivating.
“Uggh, both,” my friend groaned, plopping heavily onto a bar stool.
Both Red and I chuckled. Before we could be barraged wit
h a sales pitch, I spoke up, “I'm looking for someone. I was told you might be able to help me out.”
Red's thick, unruly eyebrows raised. “Oh? What's their name?”
“Cerin Heliot.”
Red's green eyes flashed with recognition. A pang hit me in the gut. She knows him. It didn't appear to be the best connection, though. She hesitated before she asked, “What brought you here to look for him?”
“He was a classmate of mine at the Seran University. He up and disappeared one day, about six years ago. I knew he was born and raised here, so I thought he might have returned.”
Red grabbed beneath the counter, pulling out a wash rag. She started to wipe down the bar, which was already clean. “How well did you know his family?”
I swallowed hard. I wasn't sure why this was relevant. “I didn't.”
Red sighed, before looking up at me. “Look, you seem like the honest type. I'd like to return the favor, but I need you to promise me you're not gonna cause a scene in my bar.”
“Why would I do that? I'm just looking for information.”
“Because the information I have for you might not make you happy.”
“I don't care if it makes me happy or not. I want answers.” I paused. “I won't cause a scene in your bar, I promise.”
Red stared at me for a few seconds, before exhaling. “Okay—I knew the Heliots, ever since Lucius was a teenager.”
“Lucius is...?”
“Cerin's father,” she answered, before putting her attention into her wash rag once again. “Lucius went into the same line of work as his father, and became a trader, transporting goods from here to Glacia.” She spoke of the country that was also a continent of its own, north of the Servis Ocean. It was a frozen land and the home of the race of elves with the longest and oldest lineage on all of Arrayis, the Icilic elves, casually referred to as snow elves. I had never seen one. Icilic elves were known to be extreme isolationists and a proud and arrogant race.
“Well, you know how the story goes,” Red continued. “Lucius crossed the line of professionalism and fell in love with the daughter of a very prestigious Icilic merchant. Of course, Icilic elves don't approve of diluting their blood, so when she inevitably got pregnant, she ran off with him and came back here. Sweet woman. Twice Lucius's age, but looked eighteen the entire time I knew her.”
“Who was she?” I asked.
“Her name was Celena I'lluminah.” Red raised her eyebrows. “Try saying that ten times fast.”
I chuckled softly. “She was Cerin's mother?”
“Yes.” Red said this like she wasn't sure why this was surprising to me.
I looked to Nyx. “I would have had no idea Cerin was a half-breed. He had human ears.”
“The kid was pale, though,” Red commented. That was certainly true enough. He'd been so pale that the others had made fun of him. His skin had been closer to pure white than the cream color of most of the mages at the University.
“Icilic elves are pale?” I questioned.
Red nodded. “Outrageously so. They have this glow to them at night, much like many creatures of the ocean. When some of the Icilic traders come here on their ships, which is rare, you can see the veins under their skin if you get close enough to them. They're pretty elves, for sure.” Red hesitated. “Pretentious bastards, the lot of them.”
“So Cerin was born here?” I asked, eager to get back to the story.
“Yes. Born and raised. Lucius quit his job as a trader and became a fisherman to be close to them both. Celena taught her boys everything she knew about fishing. If them Icilics know anything, they know how to fish. They are also good mages—you'd never know it, if you never went to Glacia and saw it for yourself. Most of everything we know about the Icilics, we learned from Celena. They don't like to talk much to races outside of their own.
“Anyway, to get on with it, Cerin was sent to Sera when he was eleven. Icilic elves are highly magical creatures, and given the boy had the elven blood, they knew he would make it far with magic. About two years later, we were attacked.”
I frowned. “By who?”
“A small army of Icilics. It was so out of the blue that we had little time to prepare. They hadn't stopped trading with us or anything. A ship of them came to our shores one day, and attacked with little rhyme or reason. The story was that one of their own traders had relayed the information back to Glacia about Celena living here with a human husband and a mutt of a child, and they didn't take kindly to that. Killed a good number of the sailors and merchants on our dock before Celena came out to offer herself up if they'd stop their attack. Thankfully, Cerin was in Sera, or else they would have killed him for being an impurity in the bloodline.”
“Offer herself up for what? What did she think they'd do, forget their grudge?” I knew this was going nowhere good, and it frustrated me. To have tragedy befall what was a happy family because of some elven racism and arrogance enraged me.
“I don't know what she thought, dear. I wasn't in her head. She just saw innocents dying and thought it was because of her. So she went with them as Lucius was held back and screamed after her.”
I watched Red as she exhaled slowly, and stopped wiping at the bar. She looked as if it would upset her to continue. “And then?”
“And then we waited. Lucius knew she would come back to him if she could. It was a full season before an Icilic trade ship arrived with a package addressed to him.”
My stomach felt like it was drowning in its own acid. “What was in it?”
“Two things, actually. Celena's head, and her arm with a ring Lucius had given her still attached.”
“I have to be honest,” Nyx spoke up, “I've never seen one of these elves, but if I ever do, I'm pretty sure I'd be stabbing first and asking questions later.”
I felt nauseated knowing that Cerin's parents had gone through so much, and then, by association, him as well. “How can the oldest race of elves in the world also be the most savage?” I pondered aloud, my voice lacking energy.
“You're asking someone who doesn't have the answer,” Red replied. “As you can probably understand, Lucius went a little crazy. He became an alcoholic overnight. His neighbors started telling me they could hear him screaming from his cabin. He'd come here and drink all day and night until I'd kick him out. He would ramble drunkenly about getting a war party together and going to Glacia to kill every elf he could, but he was never sober enough or motivated enough to try to follow up on it. Sometimes he'd go into rampages. Sometimes he'd cry. It didn't become a problem until he started picking fights with my patrons.
“So one night, he's sitting at the bar, and I have this lute player up on the stage, working for tips. Well, Celena played the lute, so that didn't sit well with Lucius. He got up from the bar, shambled on over to that stage, and knocked the musician straight to the floor. I was halfway to him, since it wasn't like him to get up from his bar stool without some prodding. He fought me for a little bit, until finally, after one good punch to the head, he went down.” Red hesitated. I stared at her, waiting for her to continue. She didn't seem to want to.
“You took him home?”
“No, he was already home. All it took was that one good punch to the head.” The bartender's voice was thick with remorse.
“You killed him?” My chest felt heavy. This was too much tragedy for one family, particularly one that included someone I once cared about.
“I didn't mean to. But sometimes, that's all it takes.” Red watched me through glazed over eyes, as if waiting for me to cause a scene.
But I didn't. Because I believed her. I knew she felt for the family; I could see it in her eyes. She had simply been protecting her bar and her patrons.
“It wasn't long after that when we received a messenger from Sera. I remember that day, because it was the first and only time I'd seen a griffon.”
“They sent one of The Twelve?” I asked. The Twelve was a small arm of the Seran Army, which included twelve of the most
experienced battle veterans from across Chairel, each of them with their own griffon mount. It was the only armed unit I knew of that utilized griffons, as the beasts were notoriously hard to train and equip.
“They did. Can't remember the man's name. He asked if we had heard from Cerin Heliot yet, and we told him we hadn't heard from him in a number of years. He went on to tell us that if we were to ever hear from him, to send an immediate message to Sera. He told us that if Cerin were to come back to Thornwell and we were to be found to be harboring him, our village would become an enemy of Sera and everyone with knowledge of him could be imprisoned.”
A sharp pain sliced across my stomach at the severity of that statement. “Why?” I asked, desperately.
Red simply replied, “He wouldn't tell us.”
“Did Cerin ever come?”
Red watched me carefully. “No.”
“You're lying,” I retorted, testing her. “I am on the run from Sera, myself.”
“Why would you tell me that?” She asked me, concern etching itself through her skin.
“Because you won't tell me the truth with the fear it will reach Sera, and it won't. I have no plans on returning.”
Red's eyes glanced over to Nyx, who had been quiet for awhile. My friend lifted up two deep purple hands.
“I know the discomfort of the Seran dungeons,” Nyx said. “I have no love for Sera.”
Red looked conflicted. In the end, she must have decided we were as trustworthy as I had deemed her to be. “Yes, he came. Once, about six years ago. The loss of his parents was a shock to him, and the reason he left the university was kept from us. The lad was only fifteen. He'd traveled for the better part of two seasons to get home, just to learn all of that. And then, he found his childhood home had been sold since his father's death, so he came here looking for a place to stay. He didn't have any money, but he offered to trade me a night's rest for any of his belongings.”
“Did you?” I questioned.
“No.” Red paused, looking downright depressed by this point. “I told him he wasn't welcome here. I told him what the messenger had told us, because no one else had the guts to tell the kid that after learning everything he just had. I told him that I could lose everything I own and my life if Sera were to find out I'd even spoken to him.” The innkeeper paused, inhaled slowly, and went on, “Poor kid was a broken mess. Begged me for help. I told him all I could do was give him a loaf of bread and send him on his way. I promised him that I wouldn't ever report his visit here to Sera, but I couldn't promise that someone else wouldn't.”