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

You've come at last,” the voice said to me.

 

"I was frightened, the legends of our people regarding the Silver One are very sacred."

 

"It is not yet time for your rising, but soon it shall be. When your promise is fulfilled return to me, and take your place among the great chieftains of our people." It spoke again to me.

 

"I didn't understand then, and I was in terror. I fled but I never forgot. Over the years since, I have thought about my Sempai many times. It wasn't until you showed up in our village, that I understood. This was the sign of my Sempai, the promise to keep. And now. Now I return to that dreadful place. To keep an unspoken promise." Desoil finished and was staring at Elris, looking for signs of shock or disbelief.

 

He found none. Elris simply smiled as he always did. "I understand."

 

A dubious look crossing his face, "You do?"

 

"Of course. If anyone knows about keeping promises, it’s me." The mirth slid away from his face as he said this, as if some sad memory had crept its way to the front of his mind. "But, I would appreciate it if you mentioned none of this to our slumbering friend. He’s already had enough shocks lately, I’m not sure he could handle anymore." Desoil nodded solemnly. Elris smiled again adding more wood to the fire. "Do wake me when it’s my turn for the watch." He said lightly, as he stretched himself out for a well-deserved rest.

 

The night slipped away to morning uneventfully. Creolis awoke the two gently just after dawn, having reheated the leftover fowl from the night before. They ate quietly, nothing of the conversation between Elris and Desoil being mentioned from the night before. They headed out soon after breakfast; ready to get a fast start to the day laid out before them. They continued to the southeast at a brisk pace, the sun lazily making its slow climb upwards into the sky.

 

By the middle of the afternoon, Desoil had slowed noticeably. Creolis had a feeling that something was worrying the unusually quiet lizard folk. Elris knew there was. They continued, the oppressively wet air pressing down on them. Not long after they came to a large rock formation. It was ancient and worn down, massive tangles of ivy covering it from bottom to top. Strange writings were carved into the few exposed surfaces, though they had been weathered for unknown ages, and were no longer decipherable. The three stopped near it, just staring. A sense of power seemed to be awash around them.

 

Desoil crept slowly forward, right up to the edge of the structure. He tentatively placed a hand upon its water washed surface. All sounds around them ceased. Birds no longer sang, the croaking of frogs stopped; even the buzzing of small insects had come to a halt. It was as if this place was holy, and the animals had silenced themselves in reverence. Creolis could feel the energy of the place, causing the hairs of his arms to stand on end. Desoil seemed lost in thought, remembering the last time he had set eyes upon this place.

 

"We must enter." It came out as almost a whisper. Desoil moved following the wall, his hand sliding gracefully across it as he moved to the far side.

 

After a little searching, they found a small entrance. It had expertly been covered with brush, as though it had purposefully been disguised. Elris mentioned as much, urging caution. Creolis quickly constructed a makeshift torch, as the others carefully removed the debris. They entered the narrow passage, having to duck down as they did. The entrance itself was just a short hallway, maybe five feet in length. Creolis took the lead, using the torch for light. The hallway opened up into an oval chamber. Torchlight spilled through the room, cast a dull glow across the interior. Four stone pillars formed a square at the center, supporting the ceiling. At the far end of the room sat a large sarcophagus. It was simple in its stone construction. Atop the tomb sat a large stone throne. Upon the stone throne sat a carved figure in white marble. It resembled the Broslak in many ways, but the proportions were somehow off. Though mostly protected from the elements, it showed many signs of weathering. The sharp features of the face had long since worn away, clawed fingers worn down to smooth edges.

 

Desoil sniffed the air. A faint putrid metallic odor assaulting his senses, "It smells of fresh blood in here."

 

Using his nose, he followed the smell slowly, the other two following closely with the light. Quickly they discovered a large patch of brownish-red dried blood on the floor near a wall. Someone had been grievously been injured here. No blood smears lined the floor. Someone else had obviously returned afterward to remove whomever the victim had been. Elris and Creolis continued to investigate for other signs of intrusion within the chamber. Desoil however had stopped and was staring at statue. He was sure it depicted the Silver One, the holy leader of the Broslak in times beyond remembering.

 

He moved slowly towards it, laying a hand reverently on the tomb. He half smiled at himself, wondering how long this tomb had been lost to his people. Was it possible that it really was the Silver One's tomb? Hundreds of questions bounced around his mind as he gazed deferentially upon it. His mind racing, he kept coming back to thought of his Sempai years before. The ghostly voice was no longer here, but he could still feel the power of the place flowing through him.

 

"My promise is fulfilled, I have returned." He declared boldly to the room, the other two looked up at him. Seconds later a powerful energy rippled through the room, causing the ground to shake violently for just a moment. Small bits of debris and dirt rained down on them from the ceiling. The rumbling continued but Elris and Creolis had no time to be concerned with it. An arrow whizzed through the entrance flying right between the two. Apparently, whoever had disturbed the tomb before was nearby, and the commotion had alerted them to their presence.

 

The two quickly ran down the narrow entrance and dove out, drawing their weapons as they tumbled. The sight outside surprised them both. Formed in a semi circle were nearly fifteen armed men, the strange deformed faces of the Jergan locked into snarls. Several had arrows knocked and ready to fire. Creolis reacted immediately the pale blue light flared up his body, and then shot outward forming a hazy shield around the two. Several bows twanged instantly in response. Creolis shuddered visibly as the arrows bounced harmlessly off the aura surrounding them. The enemies before them were obviously quite surprised, never having seen any demonstration of the Adrari powers. They quickly abandoned their bows in favor of edged weapons, for which Creolis was very grateful. Deflecting missiles with his mind was very draining.

 

Even without the bows to fret over, worry showed on their faces. The odds were heavily stacked against them. Though they were both quite skilled, a single lucky blow was all it would take. Each seemed to know this instinctively, as they turned on opponents with their backs to each other.

 

Within the tomb, the haze of the debris had begun to settle from the air. Desoil had been distracted by the events at the entrance. He watched his friends charge from the tomb. Saw the arrow lying on the ground near him. He chose not to follow. He turned back as the rumbling began to subside followed by a huge crashing noise. Looking over he was intrigued. The force of the shaking had toppled over the throne and statue above the tomb, taking the sarcophagus' cover with it. They all lay in pieces on the floor, broken from the force of the fall.

 

He moved closer, peering inside cautiously. It seemed empty to him, nothing but a fine powder coating the inside. All that remained of its occupant after so long. Then the flickering torchlight glinted off something within. Desoil fetched the torch, feeling as though time had slowed. Inside the dusty tomb was a beautiful crown. It appeared delicately crafted of gold and silver, two small ornately carved spiraling peaks nearly touching tips. Sparkling sapphires adorned its rim starting from the outer ridge moving in, each one growing in size until the center, where a nearly fist sized one blazed with its own inner fire. Desoil stood transfixed, his gaze caught in the brilliance of it. His free hand reached out involuntarily, longingly caressing the edge of it.

 

Outside the two battled for their lives. Three attackers lay dead around them. Blood trickled slowly down a thin gash On Elris' forearm, a lucky blow that had managed to skirt past his defenses. Blades rang out in a fury of blows as the two desperately defended themselves. The attackers were well trained. They came at them in fours, gnawing at their defenses. When they grew weary, they would move back, and another group would move in to try and finish them off. These waves of attacks were demoralizing to them, each round of attacks were calculated and refreshed. While theirs became frantic and worn down with each parried thrust. Creolis staggered a moment, the ghostly blade of his Ejora winking out as exhaustion began to overtake him. One assailant let out a piercing cry, clutching the stump of his now missing hand, stumbling away as another attacked stepped in to take his place. Elris grimaced as he knocked away another blade. They were too tired to go on the offensive, and faced to many enemies to defend much longer. He knew that this is where they were going to die.

 

The Jergan began to advance all together now, figuring their prey had tired themselves out sufficiently. The two looked grim, side-by-side, awaiting their final charge. Everything stopped as a feral roar issued forth from behind the two. The Jerga fell back a step as something burst forth with blinding speed from the tomb. It blew past the two on all four, and hurtled itself into the attackers. The two weary combatants watching with a mix of awe and terror.

 

The creature that bolted from the opening was like some miniature dragon from a child’s nightmare. Easily the size of two men, covered head to toe in brilliant silver scales Large goring horns adorned its head, bat-like leathery wings were tucked along its back. A long tail down its backside, two large spikes jutting out nearly six inches from the tip. The strangest feature was the hands, each clawed finger ending in a dagger like blade of different length.

 

The creature leapt from all four towards the nearest Jergan, landing with his taloned feet on the man's chest riding the stunned man to the ground. He let the momentum carry him forward and leapt forward hands extended in a bladed wall of death, shredding the mortified man as he crashed into him. He stood and stared are the remaining Jergan. Mouth opened in a snarl of vicious teeth, saliva dripping from its maw. The remaining attackers overcame their shock and turned on the new threat, moving in weapons raised. They circled around him, coming in from all angles. Two came in at once from the front, one going low the other high. Both attacks were knocked wide as a third tried stepping in from behind. His tail flicked out instinctively taking the attacker in the lower jaw. Thick muscles flexed and threw him with a spray of blood into two in front of him. Another came at him from the side with a vicious lunge. He turned grabbing the blade with a bare hand forcing the man to a dead stop, and then gave a strong jerk pulling the struggling man to him. His other hand was waiting all five fingers extended as he plunged them into his