The Blade Heir (Book 1)

by Daniel Adorno

  "It is troubling, no doubt—a son of an all-powerful God chained to a tree and speared to death by men," Lumiath sighed, turning his face upward to the ceiling. "But do not be anxious, young Nostra. The time will come when divine mysteries will be revealed to you."

  Lucius frowned, unsatisfied with the seer's answer. "Well, if you're going to be coy about Yéwa, then at least tell me about my family. Are any of them still alive?"

  "And how would I know that?"

  "You are a seer of D'arya, are you not? Enough games, tell me!" Lucius cried.

  Lumiath stood from his chair and grabbed his staff to steady himself. He walked over to the place Lucius sat on the rug and towered over him. At first, Lucius thought the elf might strike him, but to his surprise, Lumiath knelt down beside him. The elf's haggard features were more visible when the seer's face was mere inches away from Lucius.

  "I am a seer, but not of D'arya as you no doubt have surmised," Lumiath's voice lowered to a whisper. "Your true family is out there, Lucius; they are alive. However, I would counsel you to choose your path wisely. You can choose to seek your family or forge the Requiem Sword."

  Lucius swallowed hard. "And is there no other road open to me?"

  "There are always roads open to you, young Nostra." Lumiath rose to his feet and his voice rose simultaneously. "Just be wary which roads you choose to travel. Now go, your brother is tired of my ramblings, and a blacksmith awaits your arrival."

  Lumiath strode back to his chair, sat down, and picked up the same tome he read when they came in. Lucius stood up and watched him for a few moments, waiting for the elf to say something more, but he continued to read as if no one else was in the room. Lucius turned to the door to join Siegfried, but his brother had already left. As Lucius entered the hallway, Lumiath's deep voice called out to him.

  "Lucius." Lumiath did not take his eyes off the tome.

  "Yes?"

  "Tell Theodore to give you a bottle of bywydur. You and your brother will need it."

  "What is bywydur?"

  "Siegfried will know." Lumiath turned a page and said nothing more.

  Lucius waited for any further instruction from the seer, but when he received none, he promptly walked down the hall to the stairs. Siegfried was nowhere to be seen downstairs. Theodore Greimane stood behind the counter again with his back turned to Lucius. The crotchety shopkeeper was rearranging his numerous elixirs and unguents on the shelves. Lucius slowly walked up to him, not wishing to startle the man and see him turn red again.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Greimane?" Lucius spoke softly.

  Theodore turned his head to the side, unsure if he had heard someone or not, but he soon noticed Lucius standing at the counter. "You again. Well, what do you want?"

  "Did you happen to see my brother come through here?"

  "Yes, I did. He stormed out like he heard a tale he didn't like," Theodore grunted. "Happens often when people visit the recluse upstairs."

  "I see," Lucius said. An awkward silence followed, and he eventually found the courage to speak again. "Mr. Greimane—"

  "Theodore," the shopkeeper corrected.

  "Right, Theodore. Lumiath told me to ask you for a bottle of bywydur."

  Theodore's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. "Oh did he now? And how do you plan on paying for the most expensive elixir stocked in my shop?"

  "He didn't say anything about payment," Lucius replied, bracing for the inevitable outburst building up in Theodore.

  "Of course he didn't. That elf is going to run my business into the ground!" Theodore yelled, his eyes were bulging and his turban was slightly askew.

  Three loud knocks from Lumiath's staff above only worsened the vicious scowl on his face. The shopkeeper muttered something under his breath then crouched behind the counter. The sound of clinking glass could be heard as Theodore rummaged through his stock and finally set a bottle no larger than a tinderbox on the counter in front of Lucius. The green liquid within the bottle had a faint glow that mesmerized Lucius.

  "Here it is. Now off with you!" Theodore barked, turning his back on him and focusing on reorganizing his shelves again.

  Lucius grabbed the bywydur and stuffed it inside a pocket on his tunic. He bid the shopkeeper farewell, but Theodore only grunted in return.

  Outside on the main street, Siegfried leaned against the brick wall of Greimane's shop scrutinizing a long piece of parchment.

  "Are you alright?" Lucius asked, stepping up beside his brother.

  "I am fine, Lucius." Siegfried replied, looking up at Lucius with forlorn eyes.

  He refrained from asking anything further and opted to change the subject. "Theodore gave me a bottle of something called bywydur. Lumiath said you would know what it is," he said, pulling out the vial for his brother to see.

  Siegfried's morose demeanor completely changed once he saw the bottle. "Bywydur? This is an incredible gift, Lucius."

  "Really? Well, I have no idea what it's for."

  "Bywydur means 'water of life' in the elven tongue. It is an elixir that revitalizes the body more than any food or drink ever could," Siegfried explained in an unfamiliar and animated voice.

  "So, is it like drinking a hearty mead? I don't quite understand."

  "No, no. It is greater than mere mead, brother."

  "If that's the case, I wish the bottle were bigger. This is less than a pint and it won't suffice for both of us." Lucius held up the bottle to inspect it in the daylight.

  "You do not consume the entire bottle," Siegfried snapped, snatching the bottle from Lucius' hand. "One drop of bywydur is more than enough for the elixir to work."

  Siegfried continued to explain the benefits of using the bywydur as they strolled out of the Scarlet Quarter and back to the inn. Lucius reluctantly listened to his brother expound on the alchemical properties of bywydur and its origins over five thousand years ago. He did not share his brother's vibrant enthusiasm for the elixir, but he was contented to see Siegfried in better spirits than before. Lumiath's revelations about D'arya deeply troubled his brother, but he hoped Siegfried would come to believe the seer's words. Accepting a truth that upended one's entire view of the world was not simple—Lucius faced an identical situation in Helmer's study a few nights ago. But Lucius was less stubborn than his older brother, and he believed both his father and Lumiath with minimal hesitance.

  He desired to know about his past and his place in the world, which largely influenced his tendency to believe the word of others without skepticism. But seeking truth made it difficult to choose between the two roads Lumiath had presented to him. Lucius longed to find his true family, but he equally desired to fulfill his role as the Ellyllei. Perhaps there was a means to achieve both? He earnestly hoped so.

  TEN

  The Shores of the Dulan

  Please wake, my lord." The soft sound of Violet's voice beckoned, awakening Silas from his deep slumber in the forest near the Dulan River. He opened his eyes and saw the beautiful red-haired woman standing over him holding a plate in one hand.

  "I presume you're famished since you slept through the noon meal," Violet said, lowering the plate down to him. "I hope you don't mind that the fish is a bit cold."

  Silas sat up—feeling a twinge of pain from his shoulder and head as he did so—and grabbed the plate. "Any food will do at the moment, my lady."

  Silas examined the contents of the plate: a half-charred piece of salmon, several berries, and a small lump of what looked like cheese. Ignoring any sense of propriety, he began to shovel the food into his mouth with his bare hands. Violet sat down between him and the campfire, untroubled by his lack of table manners.

  "How long have I been asleep?" Silas asked with a mouth full of fish and berries.

  "A few hours; it is nearly dusk." Violet replied.

  Silas glanced up at the sky through the dense foliage of the forest and saw the purple hue of the sun's fading light reflecting on the clouds above.

  "I don't know your name, sir," Violet
said, tilting her head to the side.

  "My name is—" Silas hesitated, not wishing to reveal his true identity to a complete stranger. "Cutter. Call me Cutter."

  "Cutter?" Violet raised an eyebrow. "That is a unique name. I don't believe I've heard it before."

  "It's what my friends call me," Silas replied quickly as he chewed on the last piece of salmon on the plate.

  "I see. Well, Cutter, what happened to you? You look as though you've been in quite a fight." Violet's eyes focused on his injured shoulder and the scrapes on his arms.

  "Yes, it was quite a fight," Silas said, recalling Asher's bloodied face as he died. "My brethren and I faced a legion of Draknoir in Ithileo. There were hundreds of the king's men lying in wait to attack the fiends while the soldiers under my command acted as bait, but the Draknoir ambushed us. Somehow they knew our plan. We fought hard, but none of them survived save for me."

  Violet stared at him, unblinking and mouth opened. "I ... I am so sorry, Cutter."

  Silas looked at the ground and nodded. He set his empty plate down and did not speak for a while, his thoughts on his fallen comrades.

  "Are you a general or commander in the king's army, then?" Violet asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

  "A commander, yes. I led fourteen of King Dermont's Drachengarde. Now only thirty-five remain. I must go to Aldron and report to his Majesty the heavy losses we've suffered." Silas sighed, imagining his father's scowl once he hears of the defeat.

  "Well, you are in no condition to travel as far as Aldron, my lord. Not to mention you lack the necessary provisions for such a journey. My home is on the northeastern corner of the Burning Woods, two days away. You would gain the supplies and rest needed to make your trip back to Aldron," Violet said, the corners of her mouth upturned as she looked at him.

  "That is very kind, my lady Violet. You will be handsomely repaid for such kindness, I assure you," Silas said.

  "No repayment is needed, Cutter. Some good conversation and company will do just fine though," Violet replied with a wide smile.

  Cutter let out a quick laugh. "Fair enough, my lady."

  After a short conversation about the amount of food they had left for their trip to Violet's home, Cutter began packing up all of their belongings while Violet fetched Homer from a nearby brook where the horse was drinking water. When she returned with Homer in tow, Violet insisted Silas ride the horse while she guided it by the reins. Her concern for his health was beginning to annoy Silas—this was not the first time he had suffered wounds in combat. Nevertheless, he obliged her concerns and climbed up onto Homer's saddle.

  It was just past the twilight hour when they set out and darkness was beginning to engulf the forest. Violet lit an oil lantern hanging from Homer's saddle and carried it in front of her as she guided the horse through the dense underbrush. Slowly, they waded through the woods and into a grassy meadow where the shining stars could be seen overhead. They stopped for a moment as the young alchemist's apprentice examined the stars for the correct direction toward her home. Silas looked up into the night sky as well, but he could not discern which stars were used for navigation—they all looked the same to his eyes. Violet effortlessly found the guiding star and they turned westward to the Dulan River.

  Crossing the deep river proved to be a challenge, especially for Homer. The horse whinnied in protest several times when the cold, rushing water reached the base of his neck. Despite the horse's displeasure at the situation, Violet managed to calm the horse and hold tightly to the reins while treading water. Silas gave his best effort to soothe Homer by lightly stroking the horse's nose, but he constantly tried to nip the soldier's fingers in return; Silas was convinced the horse despised him. Once they finally arrived at the western bank of the Dulan, Homer whinnied appreciatively and clopped the rocks of the shore with his front hooves, which evoked a giggle from Violet and a grin from Silas.

  The moon was in full view from the bank of the Dulan and its light cascaded on the dancing waves of the Dulan River. Silas guessed it was probably nearing the midnight hour, and he could tell the nightly travel had taken its toll on both Violet and her horse. She was completely drenched from the neck down, and in the soft lantern light, Silas perceived the weariness in her eyes. He felt tired and weak as well, despite little exertion on his part. A strong headache and pain in his joints had flared up just before they had crossed the river. There was no need to continue their journey exhausted.

  "Perhaps we should make camp for the night," Silas said, his voice strained.

  Violet set her lantern down and sighed. "I am relieved to hear you say it, my lord."

  "I'll start a fire. You'll need warmth before you catch a fever in this chill air."

  "Indeed," Violet replied as she rung some water out from her skirt.

  Silas climbed down from Homer, and as his feet hit the ground, a sharp pain shot out from his injured shoulder. He groaned loudly as a wave of pain rippled throughout his body, causing him to grip Homer's saddle to keep steady on his feet.

  "Cutter, what's wrong?" Violet asked, running quickly to his side.

  "Pain ... from my shoulder," Silas grunted. "... and all over my body as well."

  "Come on, sit down while I start a fire," Violet insisted, grabbing him by his elbow and leading him to a grassy area near the river bank.

  Silas sat down and rested his aching head on his knees. Violet quickly gathered her flint stones and some tinder from her pack. Once the fire was started and sufficiently blazing, Violet sat down beside him and removed the linen bandage on his shoulder. She grabbed her lantern and inspected Silas' wound in the orange glow. Violet let out a quick gasp and her eyes bulged.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" Silas asked, but did not wait for Violet's reply. He looked down at his right shoulder and saw the puncture wound where the Draknoir arrow had pierced him was swelled into a purplish-blue lump. Pus was oozing out of the wound and the skin surrounding it was a dark pink color.

  "This isn't right," Violet said, rubbing her forehead. "I cleaned your wound thoroughly and applied salve, it shouldn't be infected."

  Silas swallowed hard. "It's poison. The Draknoir arrows must have been poisoned. A slow death, they relish that."

  "No, you're not going to die," Violet said, her jaw tightened. "I know how to create an antidote for poisons like this. We need a Potma weed and coriander oil."

  "Potma weed?" Silas asked.

  "Yes—but it doesn't grow here," Violet said, sighing heavily. "We must get to my cottage immediately. Your shoulder looks grievous, but the salve may have given us more time. How do you feel currently?"

  "My head aches and so do my limbs. I feel quite tired, even though I've done nothing to help you today." Silas shot her a smirk.

  "I'm not the one who needs help, Cutter," Violet said, a bemused smile on her face. "We should rest a bit, but then be on our way. I'll try to guide us through easy territory to ease your pain."

  "Thank you, Violet." Silas placed his head on his knees again and closed his eyes, trying to block out the increasing pain in his body.

  As he rested, Violet retrieved her salves and applied them to the wound after cleaning it again. Silas bit his lip hard as Violet treated his shoulder and wrapped it tightly in a fresh linen bandage. Once she was finished, he lay down with his back on the damp grass and surveyed the stars above. He tried to relax despite the pain, but he found himself watching Violet busy herself with the fire instead.

  She collected a few more twigs and fallen branches from the trees nearby to throw into the small hearth she had created near Silas. The fire crackled loudly as the fresh wood was consumed by the flames; Violet stood close with her arms outstretched to warm her body and dry her wet clothes. In the dancing light of the fire, Silas gazed at Violet's face and saw her beauty for the first time. Her face was heart-shaped with a slightly upturned nose that perfectly complimented her high cheekbones and full, bow-shaped lips. Violet's gaze moved from watching the fire toward his
direction and Silas immediately closed his eyes, feigning sleep to avoid her detection. When he slowly reopened his eyes a few seconds later, Violet had moved over by Homer and she was talking to the horse in a soft voice. Silas could not make out her words, and as he attempted to listen closer, he felt a sudden drowsiness overtake him. His eyes closed once more and he slipped into a peaceful sleep on the grass near the Dulan.

  ELEVEN

  The Blacksmith's Cottage

  “Are you ready?" Siegfried asked, securing the contents of his pack before

  slinging it onto his back.

  Lucius nodded and slung his own heavy pack over his shoulders as they exited the doors of Griffin's Head. The previous night they had visited the Crimson Eagle and picked up the wineskins and supplies Eldred had been holding for them. Siegfried's smile was wide and his eyes gleamed when Eldred handed him their wineskins, but Lucius could not figure out why and the elf was an expert at keeping his thoughts to himself. He had not spoken to Lucius at all about Lumiath or the seer's allegations concerning D'arya. Their conversations frequently centered on their imminent departure to see the blacksmith or the bottle of bywydur that had enthralled Siegfried. Lucius asked his brother when they were actually going to use the elixir, hoping to get Siegfried to stop talking about it. The elf grinned at the question and told him to be patient.

  After walking down the sloping hill where Griffin's Head stood, they soon reached the center square and walked past the towering statues of the man and elf. Near the statues stood the town well where an old man and his wife were drawing water into clay jars. Siegfried unhooked the wineskin hanging from his belt and walked toward the well, motioning for Lucius to follow. Once the elderly couple had finished filling their pots, the old man handed the wooden drawing bucket to Siegfried. The elf tossed the bucket into the dark mouth of the well and a faint splash followed from below. Siegfried grabbed the rope dangling from a pulley on the wooden bar above the well and pulled laboriously until the bucket appeared into view. Siegfried placed the full bucket on the lip of the stone well and dunked his empty wineskin into the water. He instructed Lucius to do the same, and after both wineskins were filled, Siegfried pulled out the vial of bywydur for his brother to see.