by David Ekrut
Only master crafted weapons carried such marks. Feffer grabbed the matching silver sheath with the encircled raven and fastened it to his belt.
When he was satisfied with his provisions, he went up the stairs to his father’s room. There was a painting of his mother on the wall. He avoided looking into her green eyes as he plucked the painting off the wall and placed it gently on the floor.
An iron safe was fastened to the wall. He shifted the levers to the correct position and pulled the handle to open the safe. Taking the empty purse from the safe, he filled it with some silver scales and the heaviest gold crowns. After fastening it to his belt, he closed the safe and replaced the painting.
When he came down the stairs, the three of them were waiting for him.
“Feffer,” Melra said gently. “Where do you think you are going?”
“I am going after Elwin,” he said.
“You can’t,” Faron said. “You will be killed.”
“I am not a fool,” Feffer said. “I have no intentions of fighting a dark savant. I will sneak up when Zeth is sleeping and break Elwin free, then we can fly safely away. If possible, we can fly to the capital for reinforcements to come back for the others. If not, we can go north to Goldspire. ”
He walked to his gear and began to lift it. “You have to trust me. I can be very stealthy when I put my mind to it.”
“You are still a child,” Melra said.
“I have been training for a year, and I am the best swordsman in my class.” Feffer said. “I am not a child, anymore. ”
“You are only fifteen years old,” her voice sounded breathless.
“Sixteen,” he said, annoyed that his defiance made him feel like a child. “Elwin is fifteen.”
“Look,” Feffer said. “I am all there is. Zeth is a dark savant. He is taking Elwin back to make him use the Death Element. I can’t let that happen. Not to Elwin. I must go.”
The whites of Melra’s eyes were wide and tears fell down her cheeks. Poppe’s mouth was open, but no words came out. He had them, he knew. They would not stop him.
“How do you know this?” Faron asked.
“I heard it from Lord Lifesong,” Feffer said. “The dark savants are taking children with power to use them as weapons in their war.”
“The only reason Zeth could be headed east is to reach Eastport,” Faron said.
“Once he has Elwin on a vessel,” Feffer said, “all will be lost. If I save Elwin, Zeth will not leave with the others. I can save them, but you have to trust me.”
“Alright lad,” Faron said. “I will ride west to send word to Sir Gibbins. I have made many weapons at his request. He will know my name and trust my word.”
“Good,” Feffer said. “Let us not waste more time.”
Atop Haven, Feffer had a clear view of the countryside surrounding the dirt road. He had been traveling for half the morning, and the misting rain had provided little relief against the humid heat. The tracks left by the wagon and small contingent of footsteps never varied far from the road, making them easy to follow.
In the distance, he could see an occasional farm, but he dared not waste time to look for help. The dark savant had not ventured from the road, so neither had Feffer. It was unlikely that an untrained farmer or rancher could do much for Elwin anyway.
By noon, Feffer could see a city on the horizon. He had never traveled east, but Feffer knew Bentonville from one of his father’s maps. Like Benedict, Bentonville was a small village with mostly of farmers.
Feffer could see smoke rising from chimneys. He spurred Haven from a trot to a gallop.
As he neared the village, Feffer realized that it was not the chimneys that were smoking. Several of the buildings were smoldering. One of the buildings had been caved in completely.
He reigned Haven to a walk. There were no people that he could see. Maybe they were hiding.
Feffer had not yet earned his red cloak, so they would not know he belonged to the king’s guard. He was about to call out, but he stopped himself. What if Zeth was still here?
He pulled Haven to a halt. The only sound was the misting rain in his ears and the crackling of the smoldering buildings. He looked to the road. The tracks continued into the village.
Nudging Haven forward, Feffer watched for any movement.
Like Benedict, the buildings had been crafted from the redwoods of the Carotid to the north. Though the buildings here were farther apart, Feffer could not tell the difference between shops and homes. Most of them were of a size with one another. And much like Benedict, these people likely lived where they worked.
The largest building stood three stories high. The sign had a fool juggling red wooden balls painted on it. The paint had faded, and there was no script to name the inn on the sign. The door had been knocked inward hanging only on its lower hinge.
The tracks split off here.
Feffer stopped Haven at the hitching post in front of the inn and climbed down from his saddle. He wrapped her reins around the post.
No cobblestones made a village square here, but no grass grew at the large space in front of the inn. Feffer walked toward the east, looking at the tracks. Red darkened the mud, and there were impressions too large to have come from hooves or feet.
Bodies maybe?
He and Elwin had been on a few hunts with Wilton, Drenen, and his Da, but he was not as good at tracking as the others had been. Feffer had been better with a bow than Elwin, but his friend had picked up reading tracks much faster.
He could tell the wagon tracks continued east. Those at least were easy to follow. If the wagon had gone, so had Zeth.
Feffer yelled, “Hello! Is anyone here?”
He yelled a few times and received no answer. So he walked up to the inn to look inside. It was vacant.
“Hello!” he called again.
There was no one.
He walked to the building across from the inn. The door was cracked.
He pushed the door open, “Hello?”
The common room looked like a tornado had blown through. A small table was turned over close to the door. A feeble attempt at a barricade, perhaps. Wooden chairs and tables lay in pieces. The only sign of life was an active lantern still burning on the wall and burnt embers still releasing smoke in the fireplace.
After a few steps into the room, his boots contacted a sticky liquid. A thick puddle of red extended past the overturned table and splattered across the walls and destroyed furniture. He took a few more steps into the room and saw a hallway with two doorways on both sides. The beds in both rooms had been overturned. Red wool spilled out from mattresses.
Feffer stepped on something hard. He looked down to see a wooden soldier. It had a halberd in its right hand and a red cloak with a hand the palm facing outward, painted white. He picked it up. No blood stained the toy.
He felt tears creep into his vision. Gritting his teeth, he balled his fist and screamed a wordless cry.
How could anyone do this?
Feffer punched the wooden door. It banged into the wall. He kicked it and beat it with the flat of his fist, screaming all the while. He couldn’t stop the flood of emotions.
Feffer slumped to the ground and sobbed into his hands. His father was dead. All of these people were dead. Why? Why would someone do this?
It didn’t make any sense. None of these people were elementalists. Killing these people was an act of cruelty. There was no other reason.
When the tears subsided, Feffer saw he still had the little wooden soldier in his hand. It was a toy that all little boys had. When he had outgrown his own toy soldiers, he had given them to some of the younger boys in town.
The face of a little boy came to his mind. A little boy from Benedict. He had red hair and hazel eyes, like Feffer.
“Chadley,” Feffer said, wondering if the little
boy still lived.
Feffer forced his legs to stand and tucked the little wooden soldier into his belt pouch. The fire in the hearth had not been cold for long, and a candle still burned. The dark savant could not have been gone long.
He left the house and looked down the dirt road. It had stopped raining. All morning he had wished the rain would stop, but with all of these people dead, it didn’t seem right. The sun was breaking through the remaining clouds, shining its light on Bentonville.
The red mud seemed brighter, when the thought struck him.
“How many people live between here and the sea?”
A sick feeling tried to work its way into his stomach, and he swallowed to keep the contents from emptying into the dirt. Feffer felt the wooden toy in his belt pouch.
“Not another child,” Feffer said.
Feffer forced his feet to move. It was no longer about just saving Elwin. As he climbed atop Haven, another thought occurred to him.
What in the abyss was Zeth doing with the bodies of the slain?
He pondered on it as he spurred Haven forward. There were no bodies in Bentonville. It was as if the town had been deserted, but there was blood everywhere. In that home, in the tavern of the inn, and in the streets.
He shook his head. Who could guess at the actions of a Death bound?
The daylight waned as he rode, and he tried to consider his options. Eventually, he would reach the contingent. He still had no idea as to what he would do when he did. If he attacked Zeth outright, Feffer knew he would lose.
He could try to attack him in his sleep, but Feffer knew about the shadow realm. Surely Zeth would watch over Elwin from the strange sleep state where Elwin went to at night. He played out scenarios in his mind as he rode, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon for Zeth.
After a day filled with no signs of movement in the distance, Feffer nearly jumped from his saddle when he realized there was something there.
There was an hour left until nightfall, just enough light to see the large wagon in the distance. He dug the spy glass from his saddlebag. It was made from wood and designed to collapse. Each wooden ring was smaller on the inside. He pulled on the outermost and innermost ring to expand the spyglass. There was a small lens of glass on the inner ring and a large lens on the outer ring.
He aimed the larger of the two rings toward the horizon and peered into the smaller lens. The encampment on the horizon leapt into view. To the left of the road, the Carotid Forest merged with the road and stretched northeast for many miles.
Horses and cattle were tied to the trees, and several people surrounded them, forming a circle. The animals jerked away from the people and fought one another to stay at the circle’s center. He had never seen animals react that way to people. All of the people looked like commoners, not soldiers. But they did not appear to be tied or bound in anyway, so they must have been with Zeth. Perhaps he had met up with them in Bentonville. Maybe they had taken the village before even going to Benedict. That would explain the lack of bodies.
At the center of the road rested a small wagon. Feffer narrowed his eye, trying to get a better look at the occupant at the center of the cage. Bars surrounded a small figure with blond hair. He could not make out facial features, but he didn’t need to.
“Elwin,” he said. “It has to be.”
He looked around for a man dressed in black, but Zeth was nowhere to be seen.
A single tent was erected several dozen paces to the right of the road. There were people scattered in the space between. They all stood very still.
He watched them for several moments. Like scarecrows, none of them swayed or moved. They did not pace or scratch a nose.
“Dragons take me,” he breathed. “They are either heavily disciplined or made of wood.”
He needed a closer look. If they were just scarecrows, this would be easier than he thought. Feffer turned Haven north and trotted toward the Carotid forest.
Elwin sat at the center of his cage watching the faces of the people around him. Men, women, and children, none had been spared. Some he knew. Others were strangers, but it pained him no less.
Willem’s face was pale. Like the others, he stood without motion. He wore a green tunic and tanned trousers. The right side of his tunic had been burned. His exposed flesh was charred and flaking, but Willem did not seem bothered by the damage to his body. Elwin met Willem’s eyes, but there was still no sign of life. There was no recognition in the swirling, black eyes looking back at him.
The man, Willem Madrowl, was no more. What stood in his place was called a skeletal warrior. Zeth had explained it to him, still Elwin did not want to believe it.
The dead could not walk. Souls could not be stolen. These things were not possible. The undead weren’t real. They were children’s stories, intended to frighten mischievous boys and girls into obedience.
Or so he had thought.
He could not deny what he saw. Mindless soldiers made from the bodies of the dead. Incapable of making decisions, they could only follow explicit commands, given with the Death Element. They did not eat. They did not sleep. They only followed orders.
Their scratch or bite was infections, or so Zeth had said. The Death Element was so great, the power of Death could cause the infection to spread to other victims.
He looked to his driver and whispered, “Father.”
His father’s brown eyes regarded him. The black fog had gone for the moment. “I am here, Elwin.”
His father was different than the skeletal warriors.
Like the skeletal warriors, a soulless one was somewhere between life and death, but unlike the mindless soldiers, his father still retained his memories.
As Elwin had discovered, there were times when a soulless one still retained his will. So long as his father did not attempt to disobey Zeth’s command, his father’s will was his own. Currently, Drenen had the task of guarding him while Zeth slept.
“How many more villages are between here and the sea?”
“Seven,” he said. “Try not to think on it.”
After Bentonville had been attacked, it was difficult to think of anything else. How many more people would become mindless monsters?
“I will,” he lied.
“Try to get some sleep,” Father said. “I may no longer need it, but you still do.”
Elwin laid on his back, not wanting to stretch out for fear that he might touch the bones of his cage. He did not want to think of who they might belong to.
Closing his eyes, he pushed all thoughts from his mind.
He was almost surprised to be looking at his sleeping body. Zeth had not stopped the previous night, but Elwin hadn’t even tried to sleep until now. He had not thought he would be able to find sleep in the cage of bones. He soared into the air, almost feeling free once more.
Soon, Zeth would sleep as well, then seek him out as he had promised. The black savant would give him his first lesson in the Death Element. Elwin wanted to run, flee, fly far away. But that would lead him straight to Abaddon.
There was nowhere he could go. Eventually, Zeth would find him. Still, Elwin had no intentions of making it easy for Zeth.
Elwin flew toward the forest. He could hide in the trees from him.
Motion from below pulled his gaze, and Elwin froze. Through the foggy haze of the shadow realm, he saw a red head poking through some brush.
“Feffer,” he said.
His friend crept toward the edge of the treeline. He had a pack on his back and a curved sword at his hip. His friend moved with stealth. But, from the shadow realm, all the stealth in the world did not matter. Zeth would see him as surely as Elwin had.
Elwin had a brief moment of panic before he realized what he must do.
He willed himself into Zeth’s tent. The man was lying down. Elwin watched his breathing begin to slow. He
considered trying to form a lightning hurl, but a moment later Zeth’s Spirit rose from his body.
He had expected Zeth’s soul to be black, but it was a white glow, like Jasmine and Zarah.
“I am here,” Elwin said.
Zeth did not respond. He looked past Elwin toward the cage.
“When the boy sleeps, I will take him to Abaddon.” Zeth’s voice was elated. “The Father will reward me with even greater power. Not Bain. Not Fasuri. Me.”
Elwin was confused and frightened at the same time. He had no desire to meet Abaddon, but if Zeth caught Feffer, he would kill him. Or worse. He pushed his fears from his thoughts.
“I’m here,” Elwin said. Zeth did not respond.
Elwin waved a hand in front of Zeth’s face, saying “Hello. I’m here.”
He stopped. “Why can’t you see me?”
Zeth began to move toward the tent flap.
Elwin began to despair. He opened his essence to Air, attempting to distract Zeth. He let the power fill him. That was when he felt it. There was a pulsing. It was like a heart, releasing power with each beat. It was on his body’s chest. Then, he remembered.
“My pendant!”
Jasmine had said it protected him from scrying. This must have been what she had meant. He probed the pendant with Air. It was an artifact. Jasmine had told him artifacts could be controlled. Why hadn’t he spent more time working with the pendant?
He tamed Air into the stone, and willed himself to be seen by Zeth. But Zeth still hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t working. Taming more Air into the pendant, he continued to probe the artifact with his mind.
Then he felt it. He did not have to tame Air into the pendant. There was power stored in the stone. A river of power. Elwin reached for it, willing himself to be seen.
“I am here,” he said.