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

of the hearth had died down to a low amber glow. Looking over he saw that Elris was indeed, as he expected, still awake. He questioned whether he ever really slept at all. He tried to decipher which direction the noise was coming from, and soon estimated that it must be coming from behind him. Terror began to build in his nerves, raising hackles on the back of his neck. He was sure that some monstrous creature was at this moment tearing its way into the tent, intent on devouring them alive. He sat helplessly considering in that moment, screaming for the guards. Only after looking over at Elris face, calm and patient in the fire's dying light did he exert restraint on himself.

 

The sound stopped suddenly. Into the low light stepped the oddest-looking Broslak he had seen yet. The figure was obviously male, though shorter then the rest of the males he had seen. In general he looked much like the others, what made his appearance quite strange was his coloring. Unlike the glossy to dull black coloring of the scales the rest possessed, his were colored a pale pastel off white. Creolis just stared in wonder. The creature said nothing, just silently moving across to Elris. At first Creolis was still worried that death had come for them, until he saw the nod of approval exchanged between the two. A slender taloned hand extended outwards, severing the bindings about Elris' hands. Afterwards he freed a confused Creolis as well, and led them silently out the back of their prison.

 

Everyone must have been sleeping this late except for their guards and those keeping watch over the village itself. Moving stealthily, they followed their strange colored savior, who obviously knew the schedules of the scouts. Within just a few tense minutes, they were safely beyond the edges of the village. Here they began a mad dash following the newcomer as quickly as they could manage into the darkness of the bog. A short time later panting heavily, they stopped. The huge bonfire of the village had faded from view, even in the depth of the night. Creolis leaned heavily against a tree, unable to speak for lack of breath. The three looked at each other in silence as their breathing slowed.

 

Elris and the Broslak clasped each other’s wrist in a warriors embrace nodding at each other. "Desoil. It has been so long. Look at you." Elris smiled broadly, only a faint hint of breathlessness in voice. “All grown up I see.”

 

Desoil managed a jagged toothy smile as well, "You as well. In fact, I can't say that you have changed at all."

 

Creolis noticed right away that this warrior was more refined then his larger counterparts. He spoke the common tongue with an ease his brethren seemed to lack. Though, at this point Creolis was forced to interrupt them, "Anyone mind clueing me in to what is going on?"

 

"Creolis, Desoil. Desoil, Creolis." he made introductions, Desoil nodding as if the simple statement explained everything.

 

"Yes, I got that. Why did he save us? How do you know him?" The irritation once again creeping into Creolis’ tone as the two shared some unknown secret

 

"No time. Come on." Desoil said shortly as he took off once again into the swampy mess. This time they went only a short way before stopping again. Desoil moved off to a large pile of seemingly dead brush and began tossing it aside. Motioning towards it, the other two followed. To their amazement, all of the gear that had been confiscated from them was laid out neatly before them.

 

"I figured you would not want to leave your things behind. So I gathered them first. Otherwise I would have freed you sooner." Desoil formed what Creolis could only call an attempt at a smiling laugh.

 

   The two quickly gathered their things, "We do appreciate it old man." Elris smiled lightly at his inside joke.

 

"So, back to my question. What in Renad's name is going on?" Creolis wanted to yell; instead, fearing pursuit it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

 

Desoil look at Creolis oddly, as though he was being blasphemous, "I saved you because I promised the scarred one."

 

"Creolis now isn't really the time for this. Soon an encampment of Broslak are going to discover we are missing, and you leave a trail like a trampling cow that an infant could follow." said Elris in a dismissive tone, interrupting Creolis’ train of thought.

 

"Soon we will make time. I’m about fed up with all of your secrecy." Creolis fumed lightly, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. He however could not argue further, Elris was not wrong.

 

The three moved at a breakneck speed, expertly led through the confusing marshes by Desoil. Ducking through trails, even Elris’ with all his expertise would have surely missed. By dawn, the rain had all but stopped, and they had traveled further then Creolis thought possible. No doubt, they would reach the river in no time at all. Eventually they were forced to stop for a short break, the stamina of the lizard folk was not inexhaustible.

 

"Dwenoil is old and his memory has grown old with him. That is why he didn't believe me." Elris began to rant off quickly, before Creolis could once again voice the questions brewing in his mind.

 

"So what does that have to do with him?" A finger nonchalantly pointed towards Desoil as if he was unable to speak for himself.

 

"Because, my memory is still sharp. I still remember my promise to the scarred one." Desoil interjected not wanting to be left out of the conversation, since it was about him,   "However, I never expected it to take forty years."

 

Elris rubbed the back of his head, looking as if he wished Desoil had not said that, "Desoil was one of the hatchlings I saved."

 

"So how old are you Elris? You don't look much older then thirty five or so," his attempts to pry into the background of his elusive friends past unending.

 

Elris laughed it off, much like he always did, "I'm much older then I look. I have aged rather gracefully."

 

"So older then father?" Thinking to his father, who was just slightly past his fiftieth year now.

 

"Yes, a bit older then him." A slight glint shone in Elris’ eyes, as though it were only a partial truth that he spoke.

 

"This detour into Reastro then. It wasn't an accident was it? You planned on coming here the whole damn time didn't you?" Creolis belted out annoyed that his friend seemingly caused the entire situation.

 

"Of course not. I would never do a thing like that. Lets just call it, a happy coincidence." A smile twinkled in his eyes.

 

"Well now what do we do?" Asked Creolis, not sure that he wanted to know the answer. What if an enraged horde of lizard men came after them he wondered, though he left the thought unvoiced.

 

"We continue as planned. Though now I think, we will have to take Desoil with us."

 

"Yes. I will not be welcome back amongst my people. I have defied the chief, not that I was ever really well thought of to begin with." Bitterness carried in his tone as he spoke, "The peculiarity of my scales has always marked me as an outcast. I doubt I would go back even if I could not join you. I feel my time there has ended."

 

Elris perked up at this a bit, but said nothing, secretly glad his plan was coming to fruition. Creolis was actually quite excited. He had heard many tales of the Broslak but had never seen one in person. Let alone one as different as Desoil, with his odd colored scales. Traveling with him would be refreshing. He was certain they could teach each other many new and interesting things. After their short hiatus, they began again. They traveled steadily southeast, always vigilant for signs of Desoil's people in pursuit of them. Once again, they fell into a routine that was much the same each day, but at least the food was better. Desoil had spent his entire life in the swamp, and with his expertise and knowledge, the meals were more plentiful, and more satisfying.

   

Chapter 5: Signs

On the fifth day, they stopped again, but only after extensive complaining from Creolis. He was exhausted, his feet hurt, he was hungry, and he needed sleep. The list went on and on. Finally, the others grudgingly gave in. They made a camp, having decided a few days before that Dwenoil must have held his people in check. Despite their excellent progress, a well-trained search party would have overtaken them by now.

 

Desoil vanished into the tangled bogs of the swamp, returning with several large birds, which Creolis could not identify. They already had gotten a roaring fire going, and after all things were said and done, they relaxed to a very enjoyable roast fowl that evening. Desoil and Elris readily agreed to take the first watches, giving their complaining companion ample time to recover before he was forced to take his turn. Within minutes, Creolis was curled up in his cloak snoring peacefully. Elris poked at the fire absentmindedly, while Desoil picked bits of flesh from his teeth with a taloned finger.

 

"Are you going to explain?" Elris started after he was sure Creolis was sound asleep.

 

"What do you mean?" A single hairless brow rose as he asked. It almost looked sincere.

 

"We could have reached the river by now." It was not a question more a statement of a known fact that had been hidden.

 

Desoil laughed, though it had a slight hissing sound to it, "For a pale one, you know these lands quite well. Much better then this one." He motioned at Creolis' sleeping form.

 

"That isn't an answer."

 

"No, I suppose it isn't." he almost sighed, "Very well. I have always remembered when you saved us, and never forgotten my promise. It was just something I knew I would one day have to do. That was until my Sempai."

 

Elris nodded in understanding. The Sempai was the ritual vision quest for Broslak adulthood. In this right of passage, the Broslak would travel deep into the swamps, and drink a poultice of a root that was unknown to any but them. They were not allowed to return to the village until they had seen visions of what Drnae had in store for their life.

 

"My quest led me to an ancient temple. It was hewn from stone in a fashion that my people had never learned to do. Yet, our language was carved all upon it. The structure was older than I can imagine, the writing of our people weathered and unreadable upon it. It was overgrown and I would never have even noticed it had it not been for the trancelike state I was in due to the Sempai." He stared at the fire, drifting off in his mind back to the event, "I entered the temple and knew right away I was in the presence of my ancestors; there was just an ancient presence, almost like an invisible power pulsating through the place. It was dark inside, and not overly large. A voice spoke to me from within, though I could not see it."

 

"Silver One, Son of my sons.