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

passing through on our way to Amlily. We will make no trouble in your lands." He pleaded vehemently, terrified of the various torturous scenarios running vividly through his mind.

 

"Matters not, you come.” The creature seemed calm, as though there was no refuting what was about to happen.

 

He got the impression that this was not a request and he shrugged in Elris' direction. "Lead the way.” The three nearest him remained in place. Another of the Broslak seemed to materialize from the swamps between the two. It motioned with a clawed hand, indicating that they should follow him. Grudgingly, Creolis’ shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, they did. The creature moved, or rather seemed to flow through the swampy terrain. It moved at a breakneck pace that the two were hard pressed to keep up with. It followed trails that would have been impossible for even the most expertly trained trackers to have found, let alone follow. Creolis panted heavily as he rushed through the brush, trying to keep up. He had no intention of getting on their bad side.

 

After nearly an hour, though it felt like more. He noticed that the ground seemed to become firmer beneath his feet. Darkness shrouded their view this late in the evening, but far in the distance Creolis could make out the flickering of light. They neared what appeared to be a nomadic village, very basic in construction. Hide and skin tents littered the clearing of a large patch of high ground, above the water of the swamps surrounding it. A large bonfire lit the center of the village, burning high into the darkness, throwing dancing shadows around the clearing. Broslak where everywhere, seeming to appear and fade into the darkness as they moved. Creolis realized that they must have been dancing. He could hear the slow rhythmic thump of drums, though he could not see them. A small youth ran past ahead of them. It stopped briefly gawking in their direction before running off.

 

A nudge in the back caused Creolis to realize he had stopped, taking it all in. Elris also seemed lost. He had stopped as well, peering intently into the darkness. Creolis glanced in the direction he stared at, but could see nothing of interest; the two were quietly ushered towards the back of the camp. A larger dwelling stood here, ornately decorated with bones of animals unrecognizable to him. Two guards, easily the largest of the Broslak he had yet seen stood guard at the entrance. They stepped back seeing them approach and lifted the aged hide covering the entryway. Apparently, word of them had already reached the encampment before they had for they seemed to have been expecting them. None of the others moved, making it clear to them that they were intended to enter alone.

 

The two pushed their way in, ducking to avoid being caught in the entrance. The room was circular in fashion, extending upwards into a peak. The floor was just plain dirt, with a few hide skin rugs strewn about. A fire burned in a hearth at the center, casting a warm glow about the room. At the far end of the room sat a solitary Broslak. His actual was age impossible to tell, though he seemed to emanate an old wisdom. His black scales had long since lost their sheen, appearing dull in the orange light. Several of his once magnificent scales looked as if they were cracked, though if from age or scars of battle he could not tell.

 

"Why you enter our lands pale folk? Very seldom we see your kind." the aged Broslak began, his voice cracking as if parched from an unquenchable thirst.

 

Creolis was given no time to respond. Elris stepped up before he had the chance. He drew back his hood and sat before the aged lizard man cross-legged without being invited. He said nothing, just stared at him from across the fire for several minutes. "Dwenoil?" Elris said, more a statement than a question.

 

"You know me?" he leaned forward, squinting at him quizzically in the dull light of the fire. His eyes searching the man’s figure as his mind searched for some memory that would give recognition to this man before him.

 

"Of course I know you. How could I forget Dwenoil son of Dunain. Though I admit, you were much younger then." His voice was friendly and calm, as if he were meeting an old acquaintance that had been missed for years.

 

"Come closer, let see you." Elris obliged leaning in where the old one could see him better. "Scarred one?" he questioned, motioning towards his disfigured ears, a small glint in his eyes of some distant memory that had faded with the passing of years.

 

A curt nod from Elris was his reply. The chieftain shook his head in doubt, "You cannot. Pale ones not long lived. You look same." The old ones head tilted to the side as he tried to gather the truth for himself.

 

"Yes, it’s been a long time old one. It is me I swear by Drnae,” he said with a shrug. He was at this moment unsure if the elderly Broslak believed what he was telling him.

 

Creolis sat back watching the exchange, a look of confusion on his face. He shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. He was very knowledgeable about the Broslak, but he had heard they could easily live to a hundred and twenty, if not more. Just then, a shadow shifted along the back wall catching his attention. This caused him to turn from the conversation. It vanished before he could make it out, leaving hackles raised on his neck. An outraged voice caused him to turn back to the two.

 

"You not invoke that. Drnae will decide truth. You not scarred one." Yelled the feeble old Broslak in his seldom used common tongue angrily, his words coming out slightly broken.

 

The two gigantic Broslak that were standing guard just outside suddenly burst into the room, quickly escorting them from the old ones enraged presence. Roughly, they were led to another smaller tent. Here they were searched thoroughly, all their weapons taken from them. Afterwards the creatures tied their hands, and then were forcibly placed inside under watch. Several guards were stationed outside. Though unarmed and tied up Creolis hardly thought it was necessary, it did not seem as if they were going anywhere anyway.

 

"Why was he yelling about Drnae, what did you say to him." An infuriated Creolis belted out, incensed by the treatment they had received at their captors. Never would the honorable Kynnorian knights treat anyone in such a way, not even prisoners.

 

"The Broslak still follow Drnae from ancient times. Dwenoil intends to throw us to the Monikai to test my words. It is an ancient Broslak custom used to determine the truth of a man’s words." Elris said as if he had no care in the world about their current predicament.

 

"You know their chief. He didn't seem to think that you are who you say you are. Why is that?" He seemed a little confused by all of this; Elris sometimes seemed so cryptic and vague about what he knew.

 

He shrugged once again his infuriating ambiguous attitude towards Creolis shining through, "He's old, I’m sure his memory has faded."

 

"Or you're hiding something. You said before that it’s been decades since you were here. You would have been a mere child if that were the case, and why do they call you the scarred one?" Creolis gave his best attempt to pry information from the unforthcoming man.

 

"It’s the ears, and maybe my gauge of time is just off." He gave a quick retort in an attempt to divert the suspicion he could see developing within Creolis. He had no intention of giving away his secrets just yet.

 

Creolis eyed him suspiciously, not entirely buying his story. They sat in silence a bit when a shorter slender female Broslak entered. Wordlessly she brought forth a platter carrying two large ornate bowls of steaming stew. She sat them down then quickly scurried from the tent. Taking his Creolis gave it an investigative sniff. The aroma was strong. Having been seasoned with spicy herbs unknown to him, along with large chunks of meat and a sparse few vegetables. This did not surprise him; they looked like they subsided mostly on meat, a thought that for some reason disturbed him greatly. The smell caused his stomach to rumble loudly, forcing him to realize how hungry he really was. He devoured the hot soup, savoring the succulent flavors. He set it aside after finishing the last few drops off.

 

"So what exactly is a Monikai?" His hunger relieved after the meal he was now curious for more information.

 

"Its a giant lizard like creature, walks on four legs, about the size of two sometimes three horses. Huge horns and a barbed tail with an elongated snout and a double row of huge razor sharp teeth." Elris said with a half smile, "Not something you want to find yourself alone with in a dark alley."

 

"This really isn't the time to joke around is it Elris? This thing sounds nasty." The fear glinted eerily, an unusual thing in a combat trained knight.

 

"These." he said his smile broadening. “They're pack hunters. So there will be at least three or four of them."

 

"Oh how wonderful. Things just keep going from bad to worse. So what exactly did you try to invoke that pissed him off so much?" A lump formed in his stomach, though he was unsure if it was the stew, or a feeling of dread at Elris’ revelation about the Monikai that was causing his distress.

 

"Their clan owes me protection. The last time I was here, I helped Dwenoil save a group of their tribe's hatchlings. I will not be denied what is owed, it will be fulfilled."

 

"How can you be so incredibly nonchalant about this? You just told me they intend to feed us to a bloodthirsty pack of Monikai and yet you sit here as if you don’t have a care in the world. For some reason, I feel like you're not telling me something.” His voice was flat, though he was obviously quite irritated with his companion.

 

Elris smiled at the obstinate behavior, the smile turned into a full-blown laugh as he thought to himself. "Remember what I said about old men and their secrets."

 

The evening passed slowly. With nothing to do, they simply sat there waiting. They had not even been told when this ceremony was supposed to take place; Elris however assured him that it would take place early in the morning. The news was not comforting. He sat there, not only bored but also with a sense of dread beginning to fill him. He tried to ease his own mind with thoughts of home and warmth and family. Try as he might though, his mind kept wandering back to visions of enormous rampaging lizard like creatures goring him.

 

Eventually he finally lapsed into an uneasy sleep. Within a few minutes of nodding off, he would begin to slump over. The sensation of falling would immediately awaken him, causing him to jerk up quickly. The restraints on his wrists had begun to chafe. He had given up on trying to get them loose and instead focused on moving as little as possible. The festivities in the village had begun to die down; the music had ended abruptly some time ago. The guards however, still stood resolute at the entrance, neither moving nor talking. Creolis wanted to sleep but was unable to get comfortable enough to drift off completely. Elris sat in the same position he had maintained for the last few hours. It amazed Creolis how disciplined he could be. He was almost statuesque.

 

Despite his discomfort, he did again manage to drift off again. He was awakened by a very subtle sound. It barely registered in his half awakened mind at first. Coming to quickly, he realized it was a slow shearing sound. The light