The Lost Eight by Duron Crejaro (read me a book .TXT) 📕

before opening. They were glazed over as if she were looking into some far off place. Slowly they began to come into focus, looking at Creolis confusedly. She smiled a little, and then was ravaged by an intense fit of coughing. She grabbed a small handkerchief, covering her mouth until it subsided. He could see the small pink stain on the cloth as she pulled it away. He said nothing as his heart sank further.

 

“Creolis?” She spoke softly, breath coming in short wheezing gasps.

 

“Yes, It’s me mother.“ He replied gently taking her small frail hand in his. Tenderly he rested his head on her forearm, not wishing her to see the tears brimming threateningly in his eyes.

 

“Is this a dream brought on by the fever?” She queried, not quite believing he was actually there. “I was so worried about you after your father said that the war was starting. I didn’t want to believe it.”

 

“Elris spirited me from Fort Konway before it was overrun. I’m quite safe I promise.” Creolis forced a small smile, gazing fondly upon her. His eyes drank in her features as if he might never see her again.

 

“Good, I’m please.” Her feeble form was once again wracked by a horrendous spasm of coughs as she spoke, forcing her to cease speaking. “Now you must go and help your brother. I’ve done my best to raise you both. I fear I’m not long for this world.” She sighed as she looked away from him sorrowfully. “I would have liked to have been here to see grand children.” A wheezing sigh escaped her, “I suppose it’s for the best, a time of war is no time to be raising children.”

 

“Don’t say that mother. The priest says you’re going to be just fine.” He smiled at her, the lie sickening his stomach. “You’re going to be around many more years, and one day when this is all over I’ll find a nice girl and settle down.”

 

She almost smiled at his kindness, “Just like your father, trying to spare me pain. Just know I love you all very much, even Dearn. Make sure you tell him so, when you see him.”

 

He found her words unusual but nodded, “You can tell him yourself when we all reach Thyrinn. I’m sure you both will travel with us there.”

 

She reached out, her hand trembling with the effort as she held his face gently, “Of course we will, but I’m so very tired. Could you fetch your father?”

 

With a nod, Creolis left, trying not to let his eyes mist up to much as he did. He informed his father that mother wanted him, and that he would be back later. He moved towards the Ole House Inn with slowness, his heavy heart forcing him to trudge along. He had always known that one day his parents would no longer be with him. Seeing his mother like that however left an emptiness inside him that he was unsure he could fill. To be forced from her home suddenly, on a whirlwind cross-country trip. All because some malicious woman was marshalling her troops in a war for nothing more then power. It sickened him, then to top it off, to catch the cough. The cough as people called it was a long running sickness among their people that most would survive, except the young and infirm.

 

So lost in his thoughts Creolis failed to notice the crowd until he had nearly run into it. Outside the inn was a large crowd of people gathered, milling about trying to see what was going on. All around the city watch had gathered, trying to keep the mob back. Creolis began to grow concerned for his friends. He attempted to push his way through the throng to the front only to meet resistance.   Suddenly someone recognized him and yelled to the crowd to make way for the knight, which only disturbed Creolis further. Instantly people began to move to the side, allowing him to pass to the front. A member of the watch quickly pulled him through, informing him that there had been an attempt on Desoil’s life. They ushered him within the confines of the inn.

 

The residents had been cleared out, though the room was still full of people. Investigators from the city watch mostly, and a covered body near the table they had been sitting at earlier. Creolis found his friends at a table on the far side of the room. Thankfully, neither of them appeared to be injured, though Desoil appeared nervous. “What happened? A guard said someone tried to kill Desoil.”

 

“Yes, but I don’t think they were actually after him. I think he simply got in the way.” Elris returned in matter of fact way, as if he was absolutely sure. “I’m almost certain I was the intended target. There is no way Belladria could know about Desoil yet. When the assassin attacked, Desoil saw the blade and reacted instinctually. He cut the man down.”

 

“Obviously one of her agents. Was he Jergan?” A frown was written on his face, wondering if the Jergan had already been in the city or perhaps followed them from Reastro.

 

“No, which distresses me. She has apparently been building a network within the populace of Thyrinn itself. It doesn’t bode well.” He stood, beginning to pace near the table.

 

“What about you Desoil? Are you alright?” Creolis added, taking in the lizard mans distressed appearance.

 

Desoil’s expression was hard to read. Creolis would have called it forlorn, “The guards wanted to arrest me at first, for killing the man. I didn’t mean to, I just acted on impulse. If Elris hadn’t been here they might have done just that, or worse. You should have seen it, when I saw the blade my heart skipped a beat and one of my claws,” He paused staring at his own hands mutely, “It just grew into a blade of its own accord.”

 

“And if you hadn’t been here Elris might be dead. You did what you had to do. There is no fault in that. The city watch know that I’m sure. They were just caught off guard by an outsider killing one of their own.” He voiced reassurance, patting his friend on the shoulder.

 

Desoil seemed upset by this, “This is the reception I should except everywhere? People judging me without knowing me for who I am? Simply because I’m different?” His voice rising instinctually as his anger rose.

 

“It’s not their fault Desoil. They simply knew that someone had died right? And once someone explained what had actually happened they backed off right?” He found himself trying to rationalize their response to someone not versed in the culture in which he now found himself.

 

“I suppose.” Desoil volunteered.

 

“They are just doing the job they are supposed to do. Did Elris and I receive a better reception from your people when we first arrived? Eventually someone has to be the bigger man and let the biases go my friend.”

 

Desoil had not thought of it that way before, and seemed to relax visibly. Elris was on his feet, pacing in small circles near them. “It still doesn’t change the fact that Belladria’s people know I’m in the city. We must get out of here as soon as we can.” He ranted, obviously fretting over the attempt on his life.

 

“Elris. My mother caught the cough during their flight from Kynnory. She is dieing.” Creolis interrupted his friend’s distressed ravings.

 

“I know, I heard yesterday.” Elris said offhandedly not bother to look at Creolis before continuing to mumble to himself.

 

“What? And you didn’t think this was something that you should maybe tell me?” Creolis nearly yelled, his voice full of outrage.

 

“There wasn’t time, and it doesn’t really matter. We’ve,” His sentenced was interrupted by a fist smashing him in the face. He stumbled backwards, thudding into the nearby wall he nearly fell.

 

Creolis shook his fist from the blow, seething anger written on his face. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” He stalked maliciously towards Elris, intent on pummeling him further. The blue glow of the Adrari spread over him. Elris had regained his feet and was prepared when the next blow was thrown his way. He grabbed the fist mid air, and used Creolis’ own momentum to throw him into the wall. Creolis crashed into it soundly, stunned by the sudden impact.

 

Elris stood over him glowering, “Be mad if you want, but keep it to yourself. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve seen die in my lifetime? Any idea how many loved ones I’ve watched perish? The pain that I carry with me at all times? There are more important things going on in the world right now.”

 

Creolis rose from the floor and slumped down in a chair forlorn. He said nothing, not even sparing a glance for Elris. He had no words to describe what he felt. The pain was overwhelming, but he had no argument for what Elris had said. He did not know his sorrows, or what he had been forced to do or see. “Come to the Loremaster’s library at dusk. Or don’t. I’ll be leaving then regardless. My mission is far to important to die here.” Elris declared angrily as he stalked off.

Chapter 12: Family

Elris had stormed off, a fire burning in his soul. Who was he to question? Creolis, who had done so little in his life, lost so little. What did he know of pain, of sacrifice? Elris scowled inwardly as he stalked through the city, disgust raging through his entire being. Had he been so impetuous and brash in his youth he wondered. Oh, it must be nice to be that young and see the world so narrow-mindedly. He found himself once again standing at the steps of the great library of Amlily, home of the Loremaster.

 

A gentle rap on the doors he placed, while musing to himself. He always wondered why they referred to the head of the Library as the Loremaster, instead of Mistress. The entire city had always known she was female, though none suspected she was one of the last vestiges of the Dasorinthium. The city had long been led to believe that a successor was chosen from the temple attendants when the one prior grew to old, and that the knowledge was handed down.

 

The same attendant that had appeared that first day opened the door, groaning at the constant intrusion at the library recently. Without open remark, he admitted Elris, quickly closing the door behind him. Elris waved the man away. He knew the layout of the library, better then any of the attendees. He soon found Ahrianna as usual, lounging about her expansive main library. The room was alit by the wondrous skylight above, though to him the room seemed darker then usual. She lay stretched out daintily across her day sofa a large leather-bound tome across her lap, lazily flipping through the pages as she sipped wine from a large gold inlaid goblet. “Back so soon?” Her eyes never leaving the pages of the book in which she was engrossed.

 

Angrily he flopped down into a chair across from her, and grabbed a goblet as well filling it to the brim. He drank deeply finishing nearly half the glass, “I