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

with the despicable conditions, they remained wary, ever vigilante for signs of Belladria followers. In an attempt to remain inconspicuous, they joined up with a merchant caravan traveling towards Thyrinn. They signed on as guards; Creolis even went as far as to change out of his Kynnorian armor, wearing simple studded leather. There was no help for Desoil’s less than normal appearance, except to stay cloaked as they traveled. He was rather glad for that, as he was still trying to grow accustomed to the cold.

 

Their time with the caravan passed uneventfully. During the coldness of winter, attacks by brigands were unlikely. Crime was not a huge problem in Thyrinn, though occasionally raids against merchants did happen. The concern would grow however, as they moved closer to the Desolation. Desoil had never seen this place that concerned the others so much. Though he had heard tales passed down by his people. A scarred desert wasteland that had once been the shining jewel of Mris. During the final battle at Dalsor, terrible powerful magic’s had been unleashed upon the land without care for the devastation it might bring. The power’s unleashed by the opposing armies had torn asunder the land, stripping it of natural life. All that remained now was a blasted wasteland, full of strange creatures, mutations caused by the torrential magic that had been brought to bear. The area was uninhabitable now, though forays into the area were constantly being undertaken by hunters, and even by the Knights of Kynny, just to keep the populations of horrendous monsters in check. If left uncontrolled, the creatures would occasionally venture outside the Desolation in search of fresh prey. During the caravan’s nightly stop, everyone would sit about the large fire, Desoil listening intently to the terrifying tales told over the campfire about creatures of nightmare that would burrow through the sand unseen, only to launch themselves from it suddenly to take their prey by surprise. Desoil was more than a little unnerved by some of these stories, definitely preferring the wildlife of the swamps to the creatures of unimaginable bloodlust.

 

***

 

The city of Thyrinn was in an uproar. The tension in the populace had slowly been building for weeks since the attack on the Temple of Drnae. Since then Dearn had been able to learn little more about the attack, and Kaelina’s strange dream. Even Master Atrimez had been unable to shed any light on it. He had begun attending the weekly councils with vigor, trying to learn anything he could about the situation at fort Konway. Since the first meeting however, everyone had remained rather tight-lipped about the entire situation, as usual back parlor politics were winning the day.

 

Dearn was on this particular day lounging about his room, his heart heavy with anxiousness. Still no word had come from Fort Konway, and now to make matters worse contact had been lost with Kynnory as well. Most people were unaware of this small fact, as the Adrari were doing their best to keep it under wraps. Dearn had learned of this news through a friend within the Temple of Kynny. He had also found out that the Kynnorian Knights had dispatched a regiment to find out what was going on, without the Adrari’s consent. Word had it that they were even going to skirt the mountainous western edge of the Desolation in an effort to reach Kynnory faster. This of course showed Dearn the urgency they felt, traveling that way with the land in the clutches of winter was dangerous.

 

With a resounding sigh, he leaned back into his chair the nervousness ever present, without any relief in sight. A light tapping at his door interrupted his brooding. “Come in.” His mood was uplifted immediately as Kaelina strolled in nonchalantly, plopping herself down on the bed with a grin. “What has gotten you in such a good mood?” Cautiously he inquired, though somewhat relieved to see her spirits improved. She had been rather downtrodden since the incident at the temple.

 

“I had another dream last night Dearn, but this one wasn’t like the others.” Her smile grew larger as she thought of it. Obviously whatever it had been about had been pleasant.

 

“Well are you going to tell me about it? Or are you just going to sit there looking at me with that stupid grin?” He said with a small chuckle, her mood contagious lessening the dread he had been feeling.

 

She giggled a little nodding, “Usually my dreams are terrible, full of pain and violence. This time though it was peaceful, so much so that I almost didn’t remember it when I awoke. I saw a man; at least I think it was. I couldn’t really see him. I just remember his troubled gray eyes.” She paused looking off at nothing in particular as she thought about it. “Despite his haunted look, I could just feel that he was a friend, and what’s more, he was in Thyrinn. I think he is coming here.”

 

“But you have no idea who he is?” He smiled unconvinced, willing to entertain her fantasy if it helped keep her from focusing on the incident weeks before.

 

She stood up, an indignant look on her face. “You don’t believe me do you?” Right away, she crossed her arms before her, replying in a cantankerous tone.

 

Just barely he shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not. It doesn’t really matter what I believe. As long as you believe that’s all that matters right?”

 

***

 

Two weeks of hard travel had brought them to the southern edge of the province of Amlily. Here the edges of two city-states and the Desolation came together in a small region along the eastern coast of the continent. Soon they would leave Amlily, skirt along the edge of the Desolation and move into the province of Thyrinn. Once inside the borders of the city-state, it would take another two weeks of travel through rugged country before they would finally reach the illustrious capital of the Thyrinnian nation.

 

Desoil was shocked when they reached the edge of the provinces, amazed that it literally just ended in a jagged line of sand. The Desolation just seemed to materialize a little ways to the west of them. The snow that had finally melted ending abruptly in sand, seeming to him as if some powerful magic had sunk its teeth into the land and refused to allow nature to have its hold on the part it had claimed. He stood staring for several minutes, trying to comprehend the awe-inspiring forces that must have been at play to cause such a disaster. Finally, his friends yelled at him to catch up, he was lagging behind the group in his dazed amazement. Creolis and Elris glanced at each other, not surprised how shocking the sight of the Desolation was to their friend. Both of them remembered the first time they had seen it for themselves and seeing it again only reminded them. Elris in particular seemed particularly sullen by the view.

 

So far, their time with the caravan had been extremely uneventful, for which none of them could complain. After all, of the recent troubles and dire circumstances they had faced, they were actually more than a little relieved for the reprieve they were enjoying. During the first part of their journey with the caravan, the traders and their families had been apprehensive about having the strange colored Broslak with them. It had been the curiosity of children that overcame this. He would catch them, peeking from wagons, or watching him as they ran around playing. Finally, a small group of them had come forth, asking him a slew of questions. Much to their surprise he answered, apparently the children were not even sure if he could talk. Since that day, Desoil had grown more at ease as well. After his interesting reception in Amlily, he seemed to have learned that every individual is different and will react differently to him. He was unsure if it were good or bad. Perhaps it just was he mused to himself as he trotted along on his horse. Maybe it’s just each persons view of things that mattered, the thing that made them friend or foe.

 

Desoil had also been practicing his manipulation of the Helm of Elia’s power. At first, he achieved little success with it. That changed quickly on their journey. Quite quickly, he discovered that the Helm seemed to follow the direction of his will. Back in the swamps, when his friends had been in dire straits, without thought his will had been to defend and destroy that which threatened. His subconscious mind had manifested with the Helm’s enormous powers, the battle form that he had entered. Now he found that with his conscious mind he could duplicate similar effects. He toyed with his newfound powers regularly, though only away from prying eyes, lest he undo the amicable nature of the caravan. Now he could manipulate his appendages at will, growing his talons into blades of almost any length he wished; morph the small nubs of horns upon his head into large goring tusks or even antlers if he wished. His tail he could make barbed or into an armored club. He had even had limited success sprouting leathery wings upon his back, though so far he had been unable to manipulate them in a way that would allow him flight. As they crossed the border into the Thyrinn province, he promised himself that one-day he would fly.

 

***

 

The announcement had come at noon, shortly after an emergency session of the council had been called. Thyrinn had been invaded by an unknown army. No details were as of yet known about this enemy or why they had decided to launch a campaign against a nation that had been at peace for four hundred years. Dearn had been attending master Atrimez during the sudden council, stood there in disbelief as he heard the words uttered by the Adrari leader to a subdued group of leaders. Fort Konway had been demolished, Kynnory sacked and burned. The entire city-state of Kynnory was being overrun, and might possibly already be completely under enemy control. Orders were already being drawn up to assemble forces to battle this new enemy. Word had been sent to Calle and Amlily, to apprise their leaders of the situation. As of yet Calle had not responded, though oddly enough, Amlily was already preparing its defenses incase they were besieged, and had even requested aid from Thyrinn.

 

Dearn whispered a quick word to Atrimez and excused himself from the council. He was in no position of power there and the news had troubled him deeply. He began a slow plodding walk back to the temple. In a few short sentences his entire world had been shattered, his heart now a shredded mess. Kynnory and Konway destroyed, his mind had trouble wrapping itself around this notion. His family likely dead, Creolis would have fought bravely with his men, even against insurmountable odds. His parents, and potentially everyone he had known growing up killed. His mind jetted back to Kaelina’s strange dream a few weeks back the night of the attack on Drnae’s temple. Of course, it fit, though at the time he had been unable to connect the dots. Had she possibly watched his brother die in a vision, he was not sure he wanted to know. So deeply lost in thought, eyes brimming with tears that wished for freedom, that he was startled to see he had company. Kaelina had at some point joined him, and seeing his crestfallen expression had no intention of questioning him. In sullen silence, they continued to Dearn’s humble lodgings.

 

“So are you going to tell me what’s eating you?” Kaelina ventured cautiously, unused to seeing her friend so withdrawn.

 

He sighed deeply wondering if he should tell her all he had learned. No doubt, it would become public knowledge before long. “I think your vision was about something that really happened.” he began slowly, “Fort Konway was destroyed. As far as