The Legend of Weinwyr: Fire and Ice

Chapter One

The seaside village of Farthia was generally a sleepy town. Not many ships came into the ports since the war between Cleddtân and Duriâ began. Cleddtân and Duriâ were two large empires in the east and west, and in the middle of the two warring states was the small isthmus country of Goedwren. The small country was a key territory to either of the empires; Cleddtân's rocky, desert climate had little resources such as wood, and Duriâ really just needed the extra area. Unfortunately, this meant battles happened frequently in Goedwren, often involving smaller villages than Farthia. But, the fights had lessened to some degree, so the people of Goedwren could breathe easy.

Lying in the noonday sun, a boy of seventeen was resting quietly under a tree. He had metallic silver hair, cool grey eyes, and tan skin. He wore a light green vest, exposing his chest, and tan, slightly ballooned Capri pants. His name was Weinwyr.

"Mmm… the sun feels really nice…" he murmured to himself, stretching his arms and yawning. "Big brother Calren would be annoyed that I'm not doing my job. Splitting wood is so booooring~" Suddenly, a pair of hands clapped over Weinwyr's eyes. "Uwaaaah!"

"Hee~! I found you, lazy-bones!" a girl's voice said jokingly. Weinwyr grabbed the girl's hands and removed them from his eyes.

He looked up at the girl and said, "Medren! You scared me!" Medren laughed. She had light brown hair and equally light brown eyes. Eyes like the woods she grew up in… Weinwyr thought. Heh~ So pretty.

"What are you thinking about, Wei?" asked Medren.

"E-eh?! Don't call me that! Yeesh… And besides, it's not like I'm thinking about something personal or anything."

"Awww… you can tell me, Wei!" Medren said, looking at Weinwyr cutely with her puppy dog eyes.

Weinwyr turned around so he was lying on his stomach, stared into the younger girl's eyes, and said, "Don't call me Wei, Medren!" He grabbed Medren's cheeks and pulled them.

"Ahhhh! Weinwyrrr! Stop iiiit!" Medren whined, shoving Weinwyr away. She put on her pouty face and said, "I'm gonna tell Calren on you!"

"A-ah! N-no! Don't do it! Calren'll kill me!"

Medren's expression changed from pouting to sly when she said, "Ohhh, yes! You were supposed to cut wood for Mom and Dad, weren't you?" She poked Weinwyr's face and he swatted her hand away.

"Bah. Splitting wood is so boring, though. Calren is more suited for that. My hands are too delicate," Weinwyr said, looking pitiful and rubbing his hands. Medren laughed. Man… in addition to having the most beautiful eyes in all of Goedwren, she's got the most beautiful laugh, too~! Damn. I wish Calren wasn't such a protective brother.

"Weinwyr, I think Calren is calling you," Medren said worriedly. The silver haired teen's ears pricked up and he heard the voice of Medren's brother yelling about something. "We'd better go see what he wants, eh, Wei?"

"I-I think you should go see for me! That sounds like a good plan to me!"

"Come on, Wei. Don't be such a wimp." Medren stood and grabbed Weinwyr's hand and pulled him up to lead him back to the village.

Weinwyr and Medren ran back to the house where they lived. It was a quaint, two floored house with a green roof. In the back, Medren's father, Creffen, built a workshop. Creffen was a traditional wood worker who made furniture, stairs, or whatever he was asked. At that moment, Weinwyr heard Creffen's knife scraping away at a log of some sort.

"Weinwyr! I found you, you lazy bag of mold!" shouted a voice behind the silver haired teen. Weinwyr flinched and felt sweat run down his face. He turned around to see an angry Calren. Calren was eighteen and already was working with his father. He had long, light brown hair like his sister, but he had his mother's green eyes. Calren wore a dark brown shirt with the Goedwren symbol embroidered on it; a leafless tree with long, spindly branches. His pants were torn and worn from his work. Normally, Calren had a cheerful expression on his face, but now it was annoyed.

"Eh heh heh~! Hi, Calren!" Weinwyr said nervously, putting his hands behind his head. "I guess you're back from the shop already, huh?"

"Cut it. You didn't chop the firewood like I asked you, Weinwyr," Calren retorted icily. He crossed his arms and sighed, "Why can't you do a simple task like that?"

Weinwyr rolled his eyes and said, "Ugh. Chopping wood is more your thing, isn't it? Why can't you ask me to do something more enjoyable?"

"Like what? Work in the kitchen?"

"Maybe."

"Guh. You're hopeless, Wei."

One of Weinwyr's eyebrows twitched and he said coldly, "Don't call me that, Calren."

Calren raised his thick eyebrows and started to laugh. Weinwyr looked at him in confusion, but Calren said, "Alright, I forgive you this time, Wei. Next time, just do what I ask!"

"I told you, don't call me Wei!" Weinwyr shouted, chasing after a laughing Calren. The brown haired teen ran inside the house and up the stairs before Weinwyr could catch him, however.

Weinwyr huffed in annoyance and turned around to go back outside, but he walked face first into someone's chest. He looked up and said, "Ah! Sorry, Creffen!"

"What were you and Calren shouting about?" Creffen asked, looking up at the stairs. He was an extremely tall man with very muscle-y arms. He had to stoop his head slightly to get a good look at the stairs.

"Oh, he was just upset that I didn't chop the wood tonight," Weinwyr said. He felt a large hand ruffle his hair suddenly. "H-hey! Don't ruin the hair!"

Creffen chuckled and said, "Y'know, you should do what Calren tells you. We'll probably need all the firewood we can get before one of the armies come."

"You don’t really think they'll come, do you?" the silver haired teen asked worriedly, not even bothering to try to get Creffen's enormous hand off of his head.

"I'm sure they won't. The Ywar won't let it."

"Tch. What are the Ywar gonna do about it? Those bastards just let the war happen."

"Weinwyr! None of that language in my house!" a voice called from another room. The voice belonged to Calren and Medren's mother (and Creffen's wife), Coedail. She never appreciated foul words in her home, not even from Creffen. Even though they were a few rooms away, Coedail seemed to have ears like a fox; she could here even a whisper of a swear word from Calren's room from the kitchen.

"Sorry!" Weinwyr yelled back. "Anyway… so…"

"I expect we'll hear more about it at tonight's meeting. Do you want to come, Weinwyr?" asked Creffen, seeming to already know what the teen wanted to ask.

Weinwyr looked up at the large man's face with practically sparkling eyes. "Can I really go?"

"You are seventeen."

"Yesss!" Weinwyr pumped his fist in the air and ran outside to tell Medren the news. "Hey, Medr… en? Where'd you go?"

"I expect she's fetching water. She'll be back," said Creffen, heading inside.

The silver haired teen looked around again and said to himself, "Okay. I suppose I should look nice for the meeting since Creffen messed my hair up."

~~~~~~~

Later on that evening, after one of Coedail's home cooked meals, Creffen, Calren, and Weinwyr went to the town hall of Farthia. This was where the head of the village (Creffen) met with many of the most important men in Farthia. A similar meeting was held in the capital of Goedwren, Coedr. But, that was much more serious and 'uptight,' as Calren said.

Weinwyr had seen the town hall many times from the outside, but he was never allowed in. Town hall was bigger than most buildings of Farthia, with its tall pillars and thatched roof. The crest of Goedwren was emblazoned on the doors and on a gold plate at the top of the door frame. Creffen pushed the doors open and Weinwyr had to gasp in amazement. The interior was decorated with paintings and wood carvings of ancient battles, historical moments in Goedwren's time, and heroes. The pillars on the inside had the crest of Goedwren painted on them, and an even larger crest was worked into stone on the ground. At the end of the hall were a wooden chair and a cluster of tables. From a distance, the chair might have looked plain and simple, but close up, you could see hundreds, if not thousands, of intricate carvings. The chair was rumored to have been made by the Ancient God Pren herself.

When everyone came in, two men shut the doors and Creffen put his hand up for silence. Almost immediately, the whole hall quieted. "Greetings, friends," Creffen began, raising both hands as a sign of welcome. "I cannot believe that it has been three months since we gathered last." The room murmured in agreement as Creffen continued, "For that three months, Cleddtân's and Duriâ's forces have not shown any sign of continuing this pointless war." The crowed started to grow louder. "However, the threat of battle has not left the air of Goedwren. We need to be prepared for—"

Creffen's speech was cut off when someone knocked on the doors rapidly. The two men who shut the door previously were given a nod from Creffen to open the doors once again. An unfamiliar cidyn ran through the doors. Cidyn were half human, half dog-like creatures with dog ears instead of human ones, dog paws as feet, tails, and extremely sensitive noses. Weinwyr had never seen a cidyn before, so he tried to see it. But, he was too short to see over the taller men. "Are you the one they call Creffen?" the cidyn asked breathlessly.

"I am. What is the matter, cidyn? We don't normally see your kind here," Creffen answered.

"I bring word from Coedr. The whole village of Goedwyd has been destroyed by Duriân soldiers!" the cidyn cried. The crowd in the hall burst into rage.

"What?!"

"Why would those bastards do this?"

"This is unbelievable!"

"Does this mean Farthia is next?"

Creffen raised his voice and yelled, "Silence!" The hall quieted. "Is this true, cidyn?" he asked coldly, with his teeth clenched.

"Do you really think I would lie about something this serious, human?" the half dog growled back, his tail twitching back and forth.

"What has Ydren decided to do about this?"

The cidyn's ears perked up and he answered, "Sir Ydren says that if we don’t find some way to stop Cleddtân and Duriâ, they will surely destroy Goedwren."

"Answer his question, cidyn," Calren said after remaining silent for quite some time.

"Hmph. I was getting there, young human," the cidyn retorted, glaring at Calren. "Sir Ydren believes we should look to our allies in Lafnŵr and in Gwasmellt in order to form some sort of army against the empires." Murmurs echoed in the hall.

"What allies? I was under the impression that Goedwren was alone in this struggle, considering Lafnŵr and Gwasmellt have remained neutral during the past hundred years of war," Creffen said icily, staring daggers of flint at the cidyn.

"I am simply passing on the words of Sir Ydren, human," replied the cidyn. "He says in order to ally ourselves with Lafnŵr in the North and Gwasmellt in the South, someone must journey to these places. Not just anyone can go; it needs to be someone who has the guts to travel perhaps as far as the Ywar Empire."

The Ywar Empire?! I have a thing or two to say to them! "I'll go," Weinwyr said, but he wasn't heard over the chatter of the other men. The silver haired teen pushed his way to the front of the crowd and said again, louder, "I'll go!" The men looked at him, giving him looks of shock and confusion.

Creffen said immediately, "No! Weinwyr, you can't go!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? You are too young. Too inexperienced! If anyone should go, it should be me," Creffen roared.

But then, Calren said, "I think Weinwyr should go." The crowd turned to look at Calren, giving him the same looks as they did Weinwyr.

"WHAT? Calren, what is this nonsense!?" Creffen shouted, balling his fists and advancing towards his son.

"Father, you know as well as me and anyone in this room that Weinwyr does not belong here. Ever since he came to our village as a child, he never did quite fit in. His true place is out in the world, not staying here doing house chores," said Calren confidently, throwing a glance and Weinwyr and giving him a wink.

Weinwyr thanked him in his mind and continued, "There, you see? Even my brother agrees with me! I should go. I will go. I wanna go!" The men glanced around the room and at each other, muttering.

"Fine. You seem to have a thirst for adventure, young human," the cidyn murmured. "I will report back to Sir Ydren in Coedr and bring you his reply. I will return in five days to take you to Lynach, across the Goedwren-Duriân border. If you aren't ready by then, I will leave you behind." With that, the cidyn turned on his paws and ran out the doors, leaving the townspeople behind.  

2: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Five days later, after the cidyn left Farthia in a hurry, Weinwyr had packed for his journey. He never was the type to carry a lot with him, even when going on a camping trip with Calren and Medren outside of the village. He had a small rucksack with all the essentials: some dried meat wrapped in cloth, a couple of apples, a waterskin, his pocketknife, and a mini machete Creffen had given him on his fifteenth birthday. He figured he could hunt for his own food and ration everything else.

While Weinwyr was packing in his room, Calren stopped by the door and asked, "You don't blame me for volunteering you to leave, do you?"

"Of course not, Cal. I'm actually thanking you for it," Weinwyr replied, not turning around. When he did, the silver haired teen gave Calren a grin and said, "Really. Thanks a whole lot, brother~"

Calren, however, did not return the smile. Instead, he said, "What if something bad happens to you? Like if you attacked by bandits or something? Then it'd be my fault."

"Whatever happens to me is not at all your fault, Calren," said Weinwyr, walking up to the older teen and putting his hands on the other's shoulders. "What happens to me is my own fault. Hell, if I was attacked by bandits, it's not like you'd be responsible. You didn't ask them 'Hey, will you attack my brother for me? He's going on an epic quest to save the world.'"

Calren laughed, "Ha! Maybe I will just to teach you a lesson, you smart aleck!" He lightly punched Weinwyr's shoulder and continued, "Hey, I'm sorry for being such a wet towel. I mean yesterday, I was upset that you didn't cut wood, and here you are going on a journey to end the war, to save all of us in Goedwren." He pulled Weinwyr into a hug.

"H-hey? What's up with you? You never hug me, man," Weinwyr said jokingly, returning the hug.

"I'm just worried; what if you don't come back? You'd make Medren cry."

"Pfft. Of course I'm gonna come back. Now, would you let go? I'm pretty sure the cidyn will be back any minute," Weinwyr said quickly. Calren nodded and released the silver haired teen from his bear hug. The said teen grabbed his rucksack and ran down the stairs, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

When he walked out the door, the cidyn from that night was waiting for Weinwyr. "Are you ready to leave, young human?" asked the cidyn, his tail wagging to and fro as if he were excited. Weinwyr nodded, turning back to his house. Creffen and Calren came out to see him off, but he couldn't see Medren or Coedail. He sighed and turned to follow the cidyn.

"Wait! Weinwyr!" a voice called. Weinwyr whipped back around to see Medren running towards him, her braided hair bouncing against her back. She practically tackled Weinwyr into a hug. "Don't leave!" she cried, looking up with tears in her brown eyes.

"Hey, I'll be back before you know it~! You don't have to worry about a thing, Medren," said Weinwyr. He said this to assure Medren, but also to assure himself.

Medren sniffled and said sadly, "Okay…" She let go of Weinwyr and pulled something out of the pocket of her dress. Weinwyr couldn't see exactly what it was for it was wrapped in cloth, but when he held the package, the slight heaviness told him that he was holding Medren's knife. Before he could protest, Medren said sternly, "Take it with you. You might need it."

Weinwyr looked at the cloth-wrapped knife, and nodded. His thoughts were interrupted by the impatient cidyn when he called, "Are you quite done, human?"

"Er, yeah!" The silver haired teen turned around, cast one last glance at his home, and followed the cidyn. "Good bye, Farthia…"

~~~~~~~

Three days later, after an arduous walk east, Weinwyr and the cidyn reached the destroyed village of Talren. This village was destroyed three years ago by Duriân forces attempting to create a better path to a Cleddtân base.

During the three days walk, Weinwyr hadn't talked much except for the occasional "Ow" or "Are we there yet?" The cidyn had remained completely silent, until he said, "We are almost at Talren."

"Or what's left of it," muttered Weinwyr.

"I heard that." After that, not much was said until they came into the mangled town. Homes were completely in shambles. The town hall in the center of the village that once stood tall and proud was burned and charred beyond recognition. There were still skeletons lying on the ground that had not been buried. Blue flags bearing the Duriân mark, torn and stained, were strewn about.

"This is awful," Weinwyr said, disgusted. "What kind of savages would do this?"

The cidyn replied, "Apparently, the Duriâns." The half dog lead the human to a clearing that was less destroyed than the rest of the town. "We'll camp here for the night and continue to Lynach tomorrow morning." Soon, a fire was started and the cidyn managed to kill a deer for dinner. Weinwyr split one of the apples in his bag and offered a half to the cidyn. In return, the cidyn handed a chunk of deer meat to Weinwyr.

"Thank you, young human. Not many of your kind would offer me anything," the cidyn said as he took the apple half.

"What d'you mean by that?" asked Weinwyr.

"Let's just say many people look down on us cidyn because of our… unusual features," chuckled the cidyn, rubbing his dog-like ears. He bit into his meat, revealing long and sharp canines.

"Humans don’t like you guys cos you're different? That's pretty insensitive," Weinwyr said. This earned a laugh (or perhaps it was more like a bark) from the cidyn. "What? What'd I say?"

"I've never heard of a human thinking that it was wrong to look down on us," barked the cidyn. "Hoo, this'll kill me…"

Weinwyr crossed his arms and continued, "Well, I don't think it's right to look down on anyone for their differences, even if they're a different race."

The cidyn stopped laughing and said seriously, "You know, that sort of thinking will get you into a lot of trouble."

"Why?"

"Most humans have been raised to hate cidyn, and even the morlau."

"The what?" What's a morlau?" asked Weinwyr. He may have briefly heard of them in one of Creffen's conversations, but he hadn't been explained exactly what the morlau were.

"Morlau. They're humanoid and they are seal-like."

Weinwyr was trying to picture a man with a seal's head, but it didn't turn out very prettily. It came out to be something like Creffen's body with one of the seal's heads from the seals in the bay back in Farthia. And those weren't pretty animals. Weinwyr shook the image out of his head and asked, "Where do the morlau come from?"

"They live in Lafnŵr, mostly. I've seen a few in my home land and even in Coedr," replied the cidyn.

"Really?" Weinwyr asked enthusiastically. "Could I meet one?"

The cidyn barked in laughter again and said, "You may not want to. They smell like fish and they have the worst tempers. Even worse than a human with a hangover."

"Is that even possible?" Weinwyr and the cidyn laughed, the noise echoing in the night. When they had settled again, Weinwyr asked, "What is your name? I don't wanna keep calling you cidyn."

"My name? It's Cywar. And I did never ask you your name, human," replied Cywar.

"My name's Weinwyr!"

Cywar looked into the young man's grey eyes intently with his amber ones. "Weinwyr… are you from the Ywar Empire?"

The Ywar Empire… me?? No way!! "Er… no. I am from Goedwren. Why do you ask?" said Weinwyr with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"It's just that… you have grey eyes, silver hair, and a name that ends in 'wyr.' Plus, you're a lot shorter than the rest of the men in your village."

"… well, I admit it, I was adopted by Creffen and Coedail when I was just a little kid. But, they never told me where I came from, and I don't have anything to tell me that," murmured Weinwyr, folding his arms over his knees.

"I… I am sorry. I should not have asked," said Cywar, looking ashamed and flattening his ears.

Weinwyr looked at the cidyn and cracked a smile. He said, "Ahh, don't worry about it. But, since I told you my life's story, where do you come from?"

"I am from Gwasmellt, specifically from the capital Tarfollt. I grew up in the 'Ipsuglgeips.'"

"The what??"

"Oh, sorry. That’s Gwasmelltian speak for 'Underground.' It's pretty much the worst place in the entire world. I forget that not everyone can speak Gwasmelltian," Cywar said, scratching the back of his head. "I came to Goedwren to become the messenger for Sir Ydren, but also to escape that horrible place in Tarfollt."

"That's understandable."

Cywar stretched, and yawned, "Ahh, we should get some sleep, Weinwyr. We have a long day tomorrow." Weinwyr nodded, finished off his deer meat, ate the apple half, and lay down to get some sleep. Almost as soon as his back touched the ground, he felt himself float off to sleep.

3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Weinwyr and Cywar crossed the Goedwren-Duriân border the next day. Most of the border was heavily guarded in case of an attack, but Cywar knew a way that would lead them past the soldiers and straight to the town of Lynach. Whether or not they faced soldiers in the town, that was a different matter.

While walking in the forest, Weinwyr asked, "Have you actually been to Lynach, Cywar?"

"No, but I know that it's the closest town to the border, therefore the easiest town to restock on food and trade in your Thogren marks; those won't mean a thing here in Duriâ," replied the cidyn. Thogren marks were the local currency in Goedwren and were worth little to nothing compared to Oniâ, the currency of Duriâ, or Haeltân bars, Cleddtân's money.

"Who would take the little amount of marks I have? I have twenty five marks… that's worth maybe three or four Oniâ. No one would take this…" Weinwyr sighed heavily, counting the Thogren marks in his hand. They were small, hexagonal, copper coins with the Crest of Goedwren on their faces.

Cywar chuckled and said, "You'd be surprised at the amount of merchants in Lynach that trade with Coedr. There'll be someone who will take those marks off your hands."

"Alright, if you say so," Weinwyr said doubtfully.

The pair arrived at Lynach at nightfall. Lynach was a small, merchant village that served to connect the capital of Duriâ, Rhefryn, to Coedr, the capital of Goedwren. Surrounded by trees and laxly guarded, Lynach was the perfect place for Cywar and Weinwyr to stay the night. While Cywar looked for a cheap hotel and someone to trade the marks with, Weinwyr sat on a barrel next to the stables. Weinwyr had seen horses and even oxen before in Farthia, but he'd never seen a creature like a ceicyr. A ceicyr was an elk-like herbivore with front-ward facing black horns and dark brown hooves cloven in two. Normally, the eyes of a ceicyr were brown or green, but some of the ones in the stable had red or yellow eyes.

"Interested in ceicyrs, are ya?" a voice asked. Weinwyr looked up at the man who had addressed him. He looked to be in his forties with grey streaks in his black hair and his eyes were deep pools of blue. He wore leather chaps with his blue outfit.

"Er… yeah! They're interesting creatures, for sure," Weinwyr replied earnestly. "I've never seen one before."

The man laughed and said, "Yeah, they are fun. Where're you from, kid?"

Eep! What would happen if I told him I was from Goedwren? What did Cywar say… 'Don't tell anyone where you're from. You don't know what might happen.' What do I say? "I'm from Rhefryn," said Weinwyr coolly.

"Huh. From the big city, eh? Must be nice to live there," the man chuckled, walking into the stables. When he returned, he brought a tawny ceicyr with bright green eyes out with him. It was equipped with a leather saddle. "I'm supposin' you've never ridden one of these babies then." Weinwyr shook his head, so the man continued, "Would ya like to try?"

Weinwyr gasped and stammered, "R-really? Y-you'd let me?"

"Sure! Why not? I think it's great if youngsters like you try out new things!" the man laughed, putting his hand on Weinwyr's shoulder and leading him to the ceicyr. The elk-like creature bucked its head slightly, but otherwise didn't move. "Her name is Lau. She's a feisty one."

"Hullo, Lau," the silver haired teen said, placing a hand on Lau's flank. She pawed at the ground, as if she were impatient to go for a run.

"Alright, put your foot there, in that stirrup. Grab Lau's horn and pull yourself up," the man instructed. Weinwyr did what he was told. As soon he was on top of the ceicyr, she huffed anxiously. "Okay. Now, as you can see, ceicyr don't use reins like a horse does. Ya have to hang on to her horns and turn her head wherever ya wanna go, got it?"

"Yep. I've ridden horses back home in Fa—" Weinwyr cut himself off and continued, "In Rhefryn."

The man looked at him suspiciously, but didn't ask anything. He said, "Right. Ceicyr start running when you tap their sides, like a horse." The man stood back from Weinwyr and Lau, raised his arm, and called, "Whenever you're ready!"

"Okay… Lau, don't freak out on me, yeah?" whispered Weinwyr, roughly tapping the ceicyr's sides. Lau reared up and ran forward. "Woah! Hey!" Weinwyr pulled Lau's horns to the right and she turned to the right, heading straight for a building. "Augh! No, no, no, no, no! Not that way!" He yanked the ceicyr's head to the left. Lau dug her hoofs in the ground, causing Weinwyr to flip headfirst over her head and land on his back, knocking the breath right out of him.

"You okay, kid?" the man laughed, walking over to the annoyed ceicyr and grabbing one of her horns.

Weinwyr pushed himself off the ground and rubbed his back. "Ow… and I thought getting punched by Calren hurt…" he muttered. He stood shakily and said, "I think I should stick to riding horses."

"Yeah, ceicyrs take a while to get used to. But, when ya do, ya can participate in races! Those are the greatest," said the man. He led Lau back to the stables. When he came back, he found the younger boy leaning on the side of the building. "You're okay, right?"

"Y-yeah. I'm just a little shaken, I guess," Weinwyr replied, massaging his temples.

"Heh! You'll recover," the man chuckled, slapping Weinwyr's shoulder. "Trust me, ya don't wanna know the kind of injuries I've got from these beasts." Weinwyr looked at him expectantly. The man sighed and said, "Well, once I was in a race up in Rhefryn, the last round of the ceicyr races to see who'd get the champion belt and a prize of a thousand Oniâ. The guy behind me pulled a dirty trick that caused Lau to freak out on me, throwin' me over her horns. You've had some experience with that, eh?" He laughed.

"Oww… for sure. But, please, go on," the silver haired teen said, sitting on a box.

The older male continued, "Well, I flipped over her horns, like I said. Lau stopped, but the rest of the ceicyr racers kept goin' cos they didn't see me fall." Weinwyr gripped the sides of the box when the man said, "Practically all those creatures trampled over me. Broke almost every single bone in my body. Y'see, that's why my nose is crooked." He pointed at his nose, and Weinwyr noticed that is was slightly bent. "Before that little accident, my face was beautiful!"

"Every single bone? Isn't that exaggerating a little?" Weinwyr asked.

"Ah, maybe just a little." The man ruffled Weinwyr's hair and said, "I don't think I asked for your name, kid."

"Agh! Not the hair!" What do I say to that? I don't think Cywar would want me to tell him my real name… "Er… my name's Chyfon. From Rhefryn," Weinwyr lied.

"Chyfon? Hmm. You've pretty unusual eyes for a Duriân, now that I look at ya," the man said, peering into Weinwyr's grey eyes with piercing blue ones.

"It's pretty common in my family," Weinwyr replied coolly.

The man gave Weinwyr one last stare and laughed. "Y'know, you're a pretty bad liar, kid."

"Ehh? Who says I'm lying?"

"Ya see! If ya weren't lying, ya wouldn't have responded like that! Now, tell me your real name, kid," the man said slyly. "Ya can trust me. If you're some kind of bandit or criminal, I won't turn ya in."

The younger male sighed and said, "My real name's Weinwyr."

"Weinwyr, eh? That's more believable. What're ya doin' here, in Duriâ?" asked the man.

"If I said visiting, would you believe me?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Well, truthfully, I'm gonna try to stop the Cleddtânian and Duriân armies from destroying my home," Weinwyr admitted.

The man smiled and said, "It's always good for kids to have dreams. I just hope yours comes true, Weinwyr."

Suddenly, Weinwyr heard a familiar voice calling his name. "Weinwyr? Weinwyr! Where are you, you troublesome human?" It was undoubtedly Cywar.

"Ah! That's my companion. We're headed to Rhefryn, actually."

"I see. In that case, I wish ya the best of luck, Weinwyr," the man said, turning around and walking away.

"Wait a sec! You never told me your name!" Weinwyr said loudly, leaping off the box.

The man turned back around, smiled and said, "Racheff. That's my name. The greatest ceicyr racer in all of Duriâ!" He laughed and continued, "Well, maybe the self-proclaimed greatest ceicyr racer in all of Duriâ."

Weinwyr gasped and burst out, "Racheff? The Duriân racer that was undefeated for ten years in a row? That Racheff?"

"The very same."

"Ooooh! Calren would kill me if I got your autograph…"

Racheff laughed again. "Ya have some of my fans back in Goedwren, eh?"

"Oh, yeah~ Calren, Medren, and I loved hearing about your races when we were younger."

"Weinwyr!" Cywar shouted, this time with an angrier tone to his voice.

"Guh. I guess Cywar really wants me to come. Well, it was the greatest honor meeting you, Sir Racheff," said Weinwyr, bowing awkwardly.

"And it was a pleasure meetin' ya as well, Mister Weinwyr," Racheff chuckled. "I hope your journey goes smoothly, yeah? I hope your dream comes true."

~~~~~~~~

Weinwyr nodded and waved to Racheff as he ran into the town. Lynach's prime hotel, The Cantering Ceicyr, was located near the center of town. Next to the inn was a merchant tent, where Cywar was standing, his tail twitching back and forth agitatedly. The silver haired teenager jogged up to the cidyn and said sheepishly, "Eh heh heh… hey, Cywar."

"Where the hell were you? Why didn't you come when I called you?" Cywar asked, baring his canines slightly. Suddenly, the merchant in the tent snorted in laughter. The cidyn whipped his head to face the merchant and snapped, "What's so funny?"

"Nothin'. I jus' find it ironic. Wha' ya said, anyway," the merchant sniggered.

Cywar growled and flashed his razor sharp claws to the human and said threateningly, "Please explain, merchant."

"Hey, hey, hey! Cywar, settle down!" Weinwyr cried nervously, grabbing the tunic of his companion. Cywar growled again, but said nothing. Weinwyr walked the annoyed half dog away from the merchant, came back and whispered, "Sorry about that. He's just a little angry at me."

"No prob, silver. Now…" The merchant spread his hands and asked with a toothy grin, "Wha'll you be gettin' today?"

"Um… actually, I was wondering if you could trade me some Oniâ for my marks," said Weinwyr casually, holding the twenty five copper coins in his hand.

The merchant grabbed the coins from the teen, examined them for a minute, and snorted, "Kid, I can on'y give ya two Oniâ for this."

"Two? B-but, I thought it'd at least be worth three or four!"

"Well, ya thought wrong, silver."

"Ugh… can I even buy anything with two Oniâ?"

The merchant burst into a throaty laugh. "Maybe ya could buy a room in th' pig trough!" He slapped his knee and chuckled, "God, kid, ya can't buy nothin' with two Oniâ. A room at th' inn is at least four." The merchant's eyes drifted to the knife at Weinwyr's side and said, "Maybe if ya sold me tha' pretty dagger there…"

Weinwyr's hand went to the dagger and he said firmly, "No way. I'm not selling you this. Someone really important gave me this knife."

"How important th' thing is don't matter. I could give ya ten Oniâ fer tha'. Nah, make it twenty."

"Perhaps… something else would interest you?" Weinwyr asked slyly. He took off his bag, pulled out the dagger, and cut the button that kept the flap closed off. "How 'bout this? Pure, Goedwrenian gold. With the crest and everything."

The merchant's eyes widened and he practically snatched the button out of Weinwyr's hands. He pulled out a little magnifying glass and asked, "Pure gold? Yer pullin' my leg."

"No, sir, I am most certainly not. What's your offer?"

"Hell, kid, I could give ya my whole tent for this… but, let's make it forty Oniâ and call it a deal," the merchant said greedily.

"Forty five," Weinwyr replied. He knew this was the part when you start bartering.

"Tch. No. Forty."

"Forty three."

"Forty one."

Weinwyr crossed his arms and said, "Forty two; right in the middle."

The merchant looked thoughtful, scratching his chin. Finally, he said triumphantly, "Forty two! Deal!" Weinwyr nodded and shook hands with the merchant and took the money. Oniâ were circular silver coins with a hole in the middle. And Weinwyr had forty two of them.

~~~~~~~~~

Soon, he and Cywar were sitting on the beds in a room at the Cantering Ceicyr inn, with a fire crackling in the fireplace. The room had cost eight Oniâ total.

"How did you manage to get that kind of money?" Cywar asked. "Only truly experienced merchants can do that."

"Let's say I know a thing or two when it comes to trade," Weinwyr chuckled, patting his pocket. The coins clinked together soundly.

"But it's incredible that you got forty off of one button. What was it made of?"

"Gold."

"That's amazing…"

Weinwyr laughed, "You could call it amazing… or you could call it lying~"

"…What?"

"Ha ha! Yep~! That 'pure, Goedwrenian gold' thing was a lie. The only thing that I know of that's made of gold is the crest above the Town Hall in Farthia."

Cywar perked up his ears and grinned. He asked, "What was that button made of?"

"A metal known mostly around my area in Farthia. It's called brass. It's not very valuable, and it's a lot heavier than gold, but I would guess that merchant hasn't seen much gold come his way, considering his reaction when he saw the button. If you tried to pull that 'pure gold' trick back home, you'd be found out in no time," explained Weinwyr with an amused look on his face. He and Cywar laughed merrily.

"That's a hoot. Weinwyr, you truly are an amazing human, you know," the cidyn barked. He actually had to wipe a tear from his eye he was laughing so hard. "Only you could swindle a merchant out of forty Oniâ for a metal that's practically not worth anything!" Cywar chuckled. "How amusing…"

"I figured I'd need skills like that to make money," Weinwyr admitted.

Cywar's tail wagged back and forth. "You were absolutely right, young human. It's difficult today to make money. However, if you have more of those magic brass buttons of yours, I think you'll be okay."

"Yeah. That's the thing. My bag only has two other buttons on it, and those are sort of important to keep it together. I can live if my bag doesn't close," sighed Weinwyr, flopping back onto the bed. "I suppose if it came down to it, I could sell my belt buckle." He tapped the buckle.

"What's that made out of?" Cywar nodded to the belt.

"The buckle's made out of Duriân silver, actually. Creffen told me that his great grandfather, Denryf, got a silver bar from a Duriân solider when he was young. My brother, Calren, was actually supposed to get this belt, but he gave it to me," Weinwyr said. "I really don't deserve it. I'm not Goedwrenian."

"Does that matter?"

Weinwyr tilted his head to the side and asked bluntly, "What d'you mean by that?"

"Well, I have sort of an adoptive brother myself," explained Cywar. "He's five years younger than me, and I really only met him ten years ago. His name is Rhisnau. But, I still consider him my dear little brother." His eyes softened as if he was recalling memories about his past. Weinwyr looked expectantly at the half dog, so he said, "Rhisnau and I met ten years ago. I must have been sixteen and he would have been eleven. He had abandoned his family on the plains of Gwasmellt to come live and perfect a weapon he made in Tarfollt. Years ago, he found a use for black powder."

"Black powder? I thought only Cleddtânian mages used that," Weinwyr thought aloud. He covered his mouth and said quickly, "Oops! Sorry."

"Yes, it is true that the mages of Cleddtân use black powder, but Rhisnau is a smart cidyn. He managed to create some sort of device that uses black powder to shoot iron balls. He calls it a 'gun.' This technology could have changed the way we hunt, live, and war with each other. When the Cleddtânian soldiers were occupying Tarfollt, they learned about this 'gun' and they tracked Rhisnau down. He refused to let them copy the technology, so they attacked him." Cywar's ears drooped and his tail stopped wagging.

Weinwyr looked sympathetic and said, "God, I'm really sorry, Cywar…"

"Tch, I'm not done yet, foolish human," the cidyn snorted sarcastically, smiling. "Rhisnau didn't die or anything. He's bed ridden, though. I took care of him until I came to work for Sir Ydren, even if he wasn't actually related to me. I really love him like my little brother…"

Cywar shook his head and continued, "Anyway, I'm detracting from my point. It doesn't matter if you're Goedwrenian or not; if you were given that belt because they wanted you to have it, then you should wear it proudly. It would make them happy."

"Yeah. I will. Thanks, Cywar," said the silver haired teen. He smiled, and the cidyn returned the grin.

"Speaking of which, I have something for you as well," Cywar said suddenly, reaching for his pack.

"What? What for?"

"Partially because you'll need this, and also because you've been an… interesting companion, to say the least," the cidyn said amusedly. He snickered when he saw the look on Weinwyr's face and pulled out an object wrapped in cloth. "Here, take it."

Weinwyr practically dropped the object when he took it from Cywar. It was heavier than he expected. He unwrapped the cloth and shook his head. "No, no, no… Cywar, I can't take this…" What he held in his hand was a middle length sword. From the pommel to the tip of the blade, it was a little longer than Weinwyr's arm. The teen unsheathed the sword. The blade had a lightning bolt worked into the metal, stretching from the hilt to the middle of the blade.

"It's called Bramellt after my uncle. He was such a good cidyn. Always could make you laugh," Cywar said remorsefully. He twiddled his thumbs and leaned back. "Bramellt told me when he gave me that sword that it was made by the gods themselves. After he died, I decided to name the sword after him because he inspired me so much…"

"Then, why give it to me?"

"Because I want you to have it. I trust you with it," Cywar said seriously, with a fire burning in his amber eyes. "Besides, you might need this blade one day." He rolled over and called, "You should get some sleep. We've got a long way to go till we reach Rhefryn."

Weinwyr nodded and sheathed the sword. He put it on the ground beside his bed next to his bag. He sighed and thought, How could Cywar give me something so precious to him?... I guess if he really trusts me with it… I should wear that sword as proudly as I wear my belt.

4: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I'm dreaming.

Weinwyr was standing in a golden field. There were no trees or rocks; just an empty field. The sky was a turquoise blue without a single cloud. He turned around to see if there was any change of scenery behind him. But, the field just stretched on.

What sort of place is this?

His gaze drifted up to the sky.

Everything is so bright…

He seemed to be searching for something.

… but where's the sun?

Weinwyr's eyes fell back to the ground.

I have a shadow…

A crunching noise behind him made him whirl around. Before, there wasn't a trace of any life, but in Weinwyr's way was a towering dragon. How he knew it was a dragon, he wasn't sure. Then, his mind drifted back to when he, Calren, and Medren were listening to one of Siâsgl's, the village storyteller, stories.

~~~~~~~~~

"Long ago, in the days of the gods, man had just sprung up in the land of Elfen. The god of wood, Pren, created this land, Goedwren, with her magic. She created trees and grass for us to use. Iâ created our snow and glaciers, Mellt clapped his hands together to make our thunder and lightning, Dŵr carved great passages for our water to flow, and-- "

"What about Cleddtân? What was their god like?" Calren had asked eagerly.

"I'm getting there, child. Tân, the ultimate god of fire, used his army of dragons to scorch the landscape of Cleddtân."

Medren had looked at Siâsgl and asked innocently, "What's a dragon?"

"A dragon was said to be a large lizard with wings perched on its back. They could breathe fire or use other elements. They came in all sorts of colors and sizes and they only served the gods."

"What happened to all of 'em?" a young Weinwyr chimed in, his silver eyes practically glowing with excitement.

"Some people say they all died. Others might say that they still exist today, in the mountains of Llosfyn. Who knows; perhaps one day you three will meet one."

~~~~~~~~~~

And there he was, just as Siâsgl said, with a dark green dragon standing before him. It had golden horns jutting out of the back of its skull, worn black claws, and tattered wings. Its eyes were silver.

"Weinwyr. Wake up," it said in a deep voice that echoed throughout the whole landscape.

What?

"Wake up," it repeated.

How?

"You need to open your eyes, Weinwyr," it continued.

But, my eyes are already open. I'm looking at you.

"No. Your true eyes."

My true eyes?

Suddenly, Weinwyr felt as if he were being torn out of the field. The whole golden field disappeared. The sky turned black. He was surrounded by fire. It stank of blood.

Where the hell am I?!

~~~~~~~~~

"Weinwyr!! Wake up!!" The teen's eyes snapped open. He was lying in his bed in the Cantering Ceicyr. Cywar was hovering over him with panic in his amber eyes. Weinwyr pushed himself up and glanced outside the window. An orange glow shone through the glass.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

"Grab your things! We need to leave!" said Cywar urgently, his tail twitching back and forth. Weinwyr got out of the bed and looked outside the window in horror. Buildings were burning. People were screaming. There were many bodies strewn about.

The shocked silver haired teen looked back at Cywar and asked shakily, "What the hell is happening?!"

"Bandits. Cleddtânian bandits have somehow gotten across to Lynach. But, that's not important! We need to leave or our quest will be jeopardized!" Weinwyr nodded and ran to get his things. He quickly slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed the sword. The two ran out of the building and started to flee the city. Weinwyr didn't want to believe what was happening. Many people were killed trying to run for their lives.

"Who would…?" An explosion cut off Weinwyr's statement. Splinters of wood showered the cidyn and the human, but they kept running.

"Hey! There are two over there!" a gruff voice shouted. Weinwyr heard hoof beats against the earth and assumed the bandits were talking about him and his cidyn companion. He forced himself to run faster, even though he knew he couldn't outrun a horse. But, a ceicyr can!!

"Cywar! This way!" the young male called. The amber eyes of the cidyn flashed back and he nodded. Whirling around on his dog-like feet, Cywar sprinted to follow Weinwyr. The two ran to the ceicyr stables to find a man outside them. It was Racheff. "Sir Racheff! What are you doing here?" Weinwyr asked breathlessly.

"Protecting what's important to me," came the answer. Racheff turned to Weinwyr and Cywar and said, "Take two ceicyr and get out of here."

"What about you?"

The older man smiled and said, "I'm going to take the rest of these beasts down south. There's a town there. My home town. The ceicyr'll be safe there." He grabbed Weinwyr's hand. "Come. You'll need mounts." He led Weinwyr and Cywar into the stables and took to ceicyr by the reins. "Get away on these two. There's a Duriân military outpost about a day to the east. Tell them that bandits attacked Lynach."

"We'll be arrested if we even look at the military," Cywar protested. "They'll kill us."

"One of my friends is with the army. His name is Dweir. Just tell him that I sent ya and he'll keep ya safe."

Weinwyr nodded as he mounted his ceicyr. It bucked its dark brown head. "Will you be alright?"

"Of course," Racheff said. "If I can survive a bunch of ceicyr trampling me, I can deal with a couple lowly Cleddtânian bandits." He glanced back at the burning town. Some men on horses were coming toward the stables. His blue eyes flashed and he cried, "Go!"

"Thank you, sir! I won't forget this!" Weinwyr called as he roughly tapped his ceicyr's sides. It galloped forward. Cywar quickly followed on his own ceicyr.

Racheff rounded up the remaining ceicyr in the stables and took off to the south. The bandits on horsemen reached the stables. "Look, boss! There's a survivor over there!" a man yelled, pointing in the direction of the fleeing Duriân.

"Forget him. We're going after the other two!" the leader shouted back, drawing a sharp, curved blade. "After them!" He swung the sword forward and the rest of the thieves followed his lead. The horses thundered against the earth, pursuing their targets.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Weinwyr and Cywar were already deep into the forest. The land started to slope upwards into a gentle hill, but the trees were wilder and more dangerous. Branches whipped at the rider's faces, but they continued their breakneck speed, knowing the enemy wasn't too far behind. Eventually, the little hill gradually went down again, and Weinwyr and Cywar burst into a grassy clearing.

Weinwyr glanced behind him. "Did we outrun 'em?" he asked.

"It seems so," answered Cywar. His ears were flattened and his eyes darted quickly back to plains and up to the darkened sky. Clouds gathered to form a dark gray blanket over the sky. Thunder sounded in the distance and rain started to fall slowly.

"I guess now we need to head to that base, huh, Cywar?"

One of the cidyn's ears twitched. "No. We shouldn't freely walk into a military base. We'll be arrested and probably killed. That'll really jeopardize the mission," he said sternly.

"But, Racheff said that—"

"It doesn't matter what he said! I think it's stupidly foolish to hand ourselves over to the Duriân army. We're not going!" Cywar growled angrily. Suddenly his ears perked up. He glared back at the forest. He leapt off the ceicyr and drew the dagger at his belt. "Someone's here." Horses emerged from the trees. The bandits from Lynach caught up to Weinwyr and Cywar.

"Well, well, well! Lookie here! Two foreigners wandering about in Duriâ! What do you think of that Tadlam?" one of the bandits asked.

The other bandit called Tadlam snorted, "It's quite the occasion to kill a Goedwrenian brat and a cidyn dog, Leidgi'r! I think this'll be fun!" The rest of the bandits laughed evilly.

"Shut up, all of you." The gang immediately quieted down as the leader's horse walked forward. The leader was clad in makeshift Cleddtânian armor with various bits of metal and leather jutting out at awkward angles. His face was partially hidden by a helmet, but Weinwyr could see burning brown eyes beneath the shadow of the metal. "What are you doing, trespassing in Duriâ?"

"I could ask you the same question, you Cleddtânian scum," Cywar retorted, fangs bared. His tail flicked to and fro furiously.

"Isn't it obvious? We're bandits; we do what we want and we take what we want. We don't give a damn about borders."

"How did you get into Duriâ?"

The leader guffawed in laughter. "By crossing over Goedwren, of course! We had our fun pillaging their villages, too!"

"What?! You raided my country?!" Weinwyr snarled, leaping off his ceicyr and drawing the blade Cywar had given him. "You… you weasels! I'll kill you!"

"So! You're a local, eh? You ever heard of a village called Farthia?" the leader cackled. Weinwyr's eyes snapped to the leader.

"What did you do?!"

Armor clinked as the leader slid off of his horse. "We looted the town and killed a whole lot of the people. We even burned down the town hall and took their precious golden crest." He pulled the gold plate out of a worn leather bag he wore around his shoulder. "The village head… oh, what was his name… Creffen or something… he got on his knees and begged us to cease the attack. 'We're a peaceful town! Farthia hasn't done anything to Cleddtân,'" the leader mocked. "He even threw us his golden ring as payment." He took the ring out of the bag, threw it on the ground, and spat on it.

"Why, you… I'll gut you like a pig!!" an enraged Weinwyr shouted, lunging at the Cleddtânian. The leader pulled out his curved blade and parried the Gwasmelltian steel. "How dare you attack my town! How dare you attack my father!!" Weinwyr pushed the scimitar out of the way and brought his own sword down on the bandit's helmet. The metal clanged loudly and the leather split straight through to the skin. The bandit reeled back and threw his hand to his forehead.

"Guh… damn you! You little brat!" the leader snarled, the wound on his forehead bleeding profusely. His eyes burned with rage as he swung his sword at the silver haired teenager. Weinwyr blocked, sending a shockwave of pain up his arm. The barrage continued until Weinwyr's hands and arms were numb. Finally, the bandit scored a hit on his enemy; his blade slashed Weinwyr's leg. He dropped to the ground, so the bandit brought down his sword on Weinwyr's head. However, he was thwarted by Cywar and his dagger. "Hey! Get out of here, half-breed! This brat picked the fight!"

"I don't care. I won't let him get killed by you, scum," Cywar growled. He shoved the bandit away and asked Weinwyr quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. Fine," Weinwyr lied. He stood, clutching his wounded leg. He raised his sword and said, "I can deal with this lowly pile of filth."

Cywar snorted and said, "I'm not letting you get killed by him, I already said that." He jabbed his dagger at the bandit. "You hear that?"

"Hey! Two on one ain't fair!" the bandit called Leidgi'r said loudly, getting off of his horse and drawing his sword.

"Stand back, you fool!" the leader shouted, waving his sword at Leidgi'r. "These two are mine!"

"Two? Who says you're fighting both of us?" Cywar said with chips of ice in his voice. "I'll take on you and your little party. Just let the boy go free."

"What?! Cywar, you—" Weinwyr started, but was cut off with a sharp glare from Cywar.

"Take the ceicyr and go to that base. I'll be fine." Cywar smiled slightly and said, "Really don't worry." He turned back to the bandits and shouted, "You hear? I'll fight you and you'll let him go! Are we clear?"

The leader nodded and said, "Fine! I swear he'll go free. You and I will have our fun, half-breed!"

Weinwyr glanced at Cywar and back at the bandit. He gritted his teeth in anger. Dammit! Cywar… why are you doing this for me? You're not gonna die, right? The silver haired teen half ran, half limped to the two ceicyr and hopped on one of the beasts. He rapped his heels against the ceicyr's sides sharply and the two creatures galloped away.

"Good. Now at least he'll be safe," said Cywar quietly. He pointed at the bandit leader with his dagger and smirked. "Well, are you ready to die yet, scum?"

~~~~~~~~

Weinwyr had been riding for at least an hour. His leg and his arms throbbed painfully, but he kept going. Gah! This really hurts… but I have to keep going! For Cywar's sake! Eventually he stopped. He saw a small light in the distance. Maybe that's the camp Racheff told me about! He heard galloping from behind him. Horses? The bandit's horses! Cywar… didn't he stop them?! Weinwyr urged his ceicyr to keep going. Suddenly, an arrow flew out of the blanket of rain and struck Weinwyr in the shoulder. He cried out and fell off the galloping ceicyr. He stood and gingerly touched the arrow shaft embedded in his skin. Weinwyr cringed, but he started to limp towards the light.

"Hey! Where do you think you're goin', brat?" came a familiar voice from the darkness. Weinwyr turned to see the face of the bandit captain. He looked a little worse for wear, but still had an evil smirk on his face. Slung over his shoulder was the body of Cywar.

"Cywar!" Weinwyr shouted in dismay. The leader snorted and threw the cidyn into the grass where he lay unmoving. "What did you do?!"

"Well, this half-breed brat thought he could take me and my group. Turns out he bit off more than he could chew. Right, boys?" The rest of the bandits hooted in laughter.

"He's not… dead… is he?"

The bandit leader cackled, "Last I checked, he was!" Weinwyr's eyes widened. He could barely breathe. His body ached. What…? Cywar… is dead? They killed him… THEY KILLED HIM!

"You murdered him, you bastards!!" Weinwyr roared furiously. Instantly, his body felt like it was no longer injured. He drew his sword and charged at the bandit leader. The opposition leapt off his horse and blocked the incoming sword. The leader's sword and Weinwyr's clashed, creating a bright shower of sparks.

"Kid, I ought to tell you; that cidyn put up quite a fight. But, it doesn't matter how great you fight if you end up dead," the bandit hissed. He pushed Weinwyr's sword away and stabbed at his side. The silver haired teen deflected the sword, but was still cut in the process. His side bled steadily. The leader pointed his curved blade at Weinwyr's head and said, "I always tell my name to my victims before they die, just so they know who it was who killed them." He raised his sword to the black sky. "I am Golldrus, the leader of the Red Dragons. It was nice knowing you, brat." He brought his sword down.

This is it. I'm gonna die. Cywar's sacrifice was in vain! Dammit! I hate myself…

Weinwyr looked up at the blade. Time seemed to slow down. No. No, no, no, no! It won't end this way! A strong wind suddenly picked up and blew Golldrus and his bandits onto their backs. Weinwyr stood and yelled, "I'm not gonna let it end like this!" Wind swirled around the teenager, picking up little sticks and leaves.

"What the…? Don't tell me… this kid is a Caster?!" Golldrus cried over the howl of the wind. Weinwyr jabbed his sword at the bandit and the wind followed the point. A huge gust sent the Cleddtânian into a front flip. He landed flat on his face. Golldrus glared at Weinwyr and shouted, "Damn you, brat!!" Almost as soon as the wind came, it disappeared. Weinwyr fell to his knees, exhausted.

What… happened? I felt like the wind was obeying my commands… but now I just feel dead tired. His wounds throbbed. Damn… my vision's… getting darker… He collapsed onto the springy grass. He heard some victorious shouts, then some shocked cries. Swords clanged and arrows whooshed in the air, cutting through the rain. Hoof beats sounded against the earth. Armor clanked. Everything sounds so muffled… am I dying? He felt himself being lifted off the ground, and he blacked out.

 

5: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Weinwyr didn't know exactly where he was, but he assumed he was at the Duriân military base. He was lying on a nice bunk, or nice in military standards. His wounds had been wrapped and all of his belongings were put away neatly in his bag by his bunk. Did… the Duriâns find me? Am I at the base? Is… is Cywar really… He groaned as he sat up. Someone was sleeping in a small chair at the end of the bunk. He had short blonde hair and thick eyebrows. His armor looked Duriân; four plates of steel bonded together by leather. The collar of his sleeveless shirt had three metal rings on each side. He didn't have very fancy boots or pants; the boots were leather and the pants were cotton cut-offs. Weinwyr gulped and asked, "Um… hello?"

The Duriân snorted and looked at Weinwyr sleepily. "Oh… you're awake! I'm glad to see that~" he said happily, leaping out of the chair. He grabbed the other teen's hand and exclaimed, "When we found you, I thought you were gonna die for sure!" He laughed. "Sorry. My friends call me blunt sometimes. My name is Tyiâ. What's yours?"

"Weinwyr. That's my name," Weinwyr replied blankly. "Tyiâ, where am I? Is this a military outpost?"

"Yep! This is a military base. It's about a day's journey from the town of Eirbach, and maybe a day and a half from Ocio. But you're safe here, so don't worry, yeah?" Tyiâ answered. He looked at the entrance to the tent as it opened. An important looking military general walked in. He was clad in Duriân armor similar to what Tyiâ was wearing, but there was more metal. He had a long sword at his side and a helmet under his arm. The tall Duriân had pale blonde hair with streaks of white just beginning to appear. His eyes were a light brown. "Ah, Captain Oerwe. To what do we owe this pleasure?" Tyiâ asked seriously.

"Good day, my prince. How is our guest?" Oerwe replied, shifting the helmet under his arm. He turned to Weinwyr and said, "I am Oerwe, head general of the Duriân army. It's an honor to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir. My name's Weinwyr," said the teen. "Um... the cidyn that was with me..."

Oerwe nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid our best healers couldn't save him. I'm very sorry."

"Right..." Weinwyr laid back onto the bunk heavily. He... really is dead, then. Why couldn't I have used that power earlier? I could've saved him! He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away before Tyiâ saw.

"My prince. I need to speak with you outside, please," Oerwe said, lifting the tent flap so Tyiâ could exit.

"Very well. Wait here, Weinwyr. I guess you won't be leaving anyway," said the blonde, and left the tent with General Oerwe following him.

Urg. I should've asked the general about that bandit... Golldrus... I think that's what he said his name was... I hope the Duriâns captured him. I hope they kill him! I want him to pay for what he did! He deserves to die! Weinwyr growled softly and gritted his teeth. Then, he sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. What am I saying? When have I ever wanted someone to die? This isn't like me at all...

The tent flap opened again and Tyiâ and Oerwe walked back in. The young blonde's brows were furrowed. "That is a problem, Oerwe. Take a squad and go deal with it."

"Yes, my prince. It shall be done." Oerwe saluted and left the tent. Weinwyr heard some shouting and the rapid clinking of armor. There were some horse hoofbeats, and then the camp was silent.

"What's going on?" Weinwyr asked.

"The rest of the Red Dragons gang - the one's that attacked you, Weinwyr - fled the camp shortly after we rescued you and captered them. Golldrus, the leader, is being held captive until we take him to Rhefryn to be judged in the High Court. But, it's nothing to worry about. Oerwe and his party will recapture them," Tyiâ replied. He sat in the chair at the end of Weinwyr's bunk. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"If you really insist," Weinwyr said heavily.

"What are you doing in Duriâ?" When he saw Weinwyr's suspicious look, he laughed and said, "Don't worry! I'm not going to turn you in or anything; I'm just curious."

The silver haired teen said, "Alright, if you say so... I'm in Duriâ to stop this pointless war."

"Ah. I see." Tyiâ smiled and chuckled, "So I'm not the only one."

"Huh?"

The blonde scratched the back of his head and said, "You noticed that Oerwe called me prince, right?"

"Yeah..."

"That's cos I'm the heir to the throne. The shining prince of Duriâ," Tyiâ joked. Weinwyr felt like his jaw dropped to his lap.

"R-really?! B-b-but... why are you out here? At some remote outpost? Shouldn't you be in the capital, livin' it up in a fancy palace or something?" Weinwyr blurted out. He was baffled. He was sitting in the same tent with the prince of Duriâ.

Tyiâ snorted with laughter. "'Living it up in a palace?' Pfft. That's probably what my poor father would want instead of trying to stop the war." He ruffled his hair and continued agitatedly, "Yet, all I can do is stay in this camp and chase after bandits. One hundred years of war... and I'm the only one of the royal family that wants to end it."

"Then... you have a plan?"

"Not really. I wanted to try to appeal to the Ywar empire and their leader, but I've never met the man nor do I know where the Ywar empire is." He laughed again and said, "I thought I was the one asking the questions!"

"Er... yeah. Sorry," said the silver haired teen.

"Anyway, if you're gonna try to stop this war, then why come to Duriâ? Shouldn't you be trying to get to the Ywar empire?" Tyiâ asked.

"Yeah, but it's not written on any map. So, I figured that Cywar and I... er... the cidyn I was travelling with... would get help from the rulers of Duriâ, Cleddtân, and the others, too. Maybe they could tell me where the Ywar empire is," Weinwyr explained, shifting in his bed.

"Duriâ's ruler, Suriâ, my father... he won't be so willing to give you information. I don't know about the others, though."

"What about the ruler of Cleddtân?"

Tyiâ looked deep in thought for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed. He finally said after about a minute, "Artân is their ruler. I've only met him once, but I think he'd be pretty unwilling to give up that information, too. He'd probably cut you in half with his halberd before he'd answer you."

Weinwyr gulped. "Wh-who else could I ask, then? The leaders of Lafnŵr? Gwasmellt?"

"I've never met them, so I wouldn't know." Tyiâ stood from the chair and grinned. "You'll find a way, though! I'm sure of it. Although my father won't give any of that sort of info to me, he admires people to have the gall to ask him anything about the Ywar. He won't always give you information, but he'll at least hear you out."

"Thanks, Tyiâ. I guess I should get going," Weinwyr said, swinging his legs over the bed and stood up slowly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!" The blonde Duriân practically shoved Weinwyr back onto the bed. "You're still injured, y'know. You should just rest here for a couple days before leaving for Rhefryn, the capital. I won't tell Oerwe what you're up to; I'll just tell him that you're a travelling merchant on his way to Ocio or something." He winked. "He'll believe me."

"I... I guess resting here would be a good idea," Weinwyr`reasoned. "Alright, I'll stay. Oh, by the way, Tyiâ."

"Hmm?"

"Do you know about a soldier named... uh... Dweir?"

"Yep. I'm pretty sure Dwei (Dwei?!) went out with the party to get those blasted bandits. He'll be back soon though, I bet. You know him?" Tyiâ asked.

"A friend of a friend," answered Weinwyr. "I don't personally know him, but... you know..."

"When he comes back, I'll ask him to come see you," Tyiâ said happily. He lifted the flap to exit when he said suddenly with a more solemn tone, "Right. Wei, this isn't very happy, but we buried your cidyn friend outside of the camp. If you want to go there to pay your respects, just ask me, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you agian, Tyiâ," the silver haired teen mumbled. The Duriân left the tent. Weinwyr flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep.

6: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After a couple of days, Dweir and his party apprehended Golldrus and his gang. They brought the gang back to the camp and immediately shackled them. Weinwyr had regained enough strength to visit Cywar’s grave. He’d picked some small flowers from a nearby hill and put them on the grave solemnly. The sky reflected Weinwyr’s mood as he sat by the cidyn’s grave.

“I’m so sorry, Cywar,” he said sadly. “If only I’d stayed behind with you… you’d probably be alive right now. We would have reached this place and been on our way…” Weinwyr buried his face into his hands and cried. “I’m trying to be strong, but it’s really hard without you.” The silver haired teen felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw a rough looking, smiling face. The man was tall and lanky with graying brown hair and kind green eyes.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” the man said, sitting next to Weinwyr. “People die all the time. People you hate, people you love, people you don’t even know. You get used to it after a while.”

“How can I get used to this? It’s heartbreaking,” said Weinwyr.

The man shrugged slightly and said, “Well, just think of it this way. Even though he’s not here with you physically, his memory and spirit will always be with you.”

“I… yeah. I guess so,” Weinwyr sniffled, feeling a bit better. “Who are you, sir?”

“My name is Dweir. Prince Tyiâ told me you wanted to see me,” Dweir said. He held out his hand and Weinwyr shook it slowly. “How’d you hear about me, son?”

“The ceicyr racer Racheff told me he had a friend called Dweir in the military. That’s the whole reason we came out this way.” Dweir laughed loudly and patted Weinwyr on the back roughly.

“Racheff? That old coot? I should’ve figured it was him,” the old soldier chuckled. “Well, you’re in good hands, son.” Weinwyr looked at Dweir curiously, so he said, “Prince Tyiâ gave me orders to escort you and the prisoners to Rhefryn. They will be tried for your crimes and you will be staying with the prince at his estate.”

Weinwyr’s jaw dropped. “N-no, I can’t possibly do that…”

“The prince thought you might say that. And he insists that you join him and his family in Rhefryn. He won’t take no for an answer,” Dweir said, smiling and standing up. He helped Weinwyr up and lead him back to his tent quietly. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you, son.” He left Weinwyr to pack his things.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Weinwyr was sitting on a horse riding next to Dweir and Tyiâ. Two soldiers rode on either side of them with five in the rear to guard the four shackled prisoners on horses. The group rode slowly, reaching the town of Eirbach by midday. They stopped to water the horses then continued on, passing through the mining city of Ocio in silence. A camp was set up at dusk. They were another half day away from the capital. They also ate a dinner of bread and stew in silence. Weinwyr was annoyed by the silence and asked Tyiâ, “So, this estate of yours. Is it big?”

“Euh… slightly. I guess it’s pretty big…” Tyiâ mumbled. Some of the soldier’s chuckled as the blonde prince avoided the question, but shut up as he gives them a sharp glare. “It’s substantial.”

“Ah. Well, are you sure you want a Goedwren peasant in your ‘substantial’ estate?” Weinwyr joked, smiling and silver eyes shining.

“Oh, it’ll be fine. I’ll tell father that you’re my honored guest and butter him up a bit,” Tyiâ said, finishing his stew. He stood and walked to his tent, coat jangling. “Goodnight, men.”

Some soldiers threw some stale bread to the prisoners, and they quickly devoured it. The bandit Tadlam shot a glance at one soldier and growled, “We’ll be free soon enough, scum. Artân will hear about this and free us.” He was silenced with a swift kick in the jaw. Leidgi’r and the other bandit, called Cythla, pulled against their shackles to advance on the soldier, but they couldn’t move far. Golldrus glared at the Duriân soldier as he walked away.

Weinwyr watched the whole thing and narrowed his eyes. “No wonder this war has been going on for a hundred years. Cleddtânians and Duriâns hate each other…”

“Not all Cleddtânians are horrible people. When I was younger and travelling, I met a wonderful, beautiful man called Tornydd, and he was Cleddtâninan,” Dweir said, “He and I were… acquainted. Anyway, he never was a supporter of the Cleddtân armies and much preferred to live in Duriâ with m—er, near me.”

“What happened to him?” Weinwyr asked, smiling a little. He pulled his knees to his chest.

“Well… I think he ended up moving back to the capital of Cleddtân, Tanier. Don’t know what happened to him after that… he kept in contact,” Dweir replied sadly. “I wish I could find him again… he was brilliant.”

“Maybe after the war is over, you could go find him again!” the Goedwrenian teen said optimistically. Dweir laughed sorrowfully.

“You kids… your amazing minds aren’t limited by anything. Son, if this war does end, I will find him again.” The old soldier’s rough face crinkled into a smile. “I wish everyone was as positive as you, son.”

Weinwyr grinned widely. “One day soon, Dweir! One day soon.” He stood up and said, “I’m gonna head to bed. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, son. Sleep well,” Dweir said, throwing another log onto the slowly dying fire.

~~~~~~~~

The group reached the capital the next day by crossing a tall wooded hill. The sun was hidden by the clouds and Rhefryn sat in the middle of a large, dull blue lake like a white pearl. They all rode down the hill and reached the Shining White Bridge of Duriâ. Horseshoes clacked on the white stone as they travelled across. Some soldiers were standing guard with poleaxes at a large gate at the edge of the bridge. They recognized the prince and immediately shouted to open the gates. The heavy iron gate was raised out of the ruts in the stone and the group lead by Tyiâ moved into the city. Weinwyr gasped at the scenery.

All of the buildings were either made of marble or light granite. Vendors and people crowded the narrow stone streets. Every now and again, a marble bridge would cross over the main road, leading to other various smaller roads. Buildings were stacked on top of buildings for blocks and blocks until a large stone wall separated the lower class citizens from the upper class citizens. The group rode through another gate to the upper class section of Rhefryn.

“Take these four to the royal prison. They’ll be tried tomorrow morning,” Tyiâ ordered. The soldiers saluted by putting their right hands over their hearts and escorted the Cleddtânian prisoners away. Tyiâ looked back at Weinwyr and Dweir and said, “The estate is this way. And Dweir, my father will be expecting a report from you.” Dweir also saluted and spurred his horse to go towards the main palace. The Duriân prince motioned with a jerk of his head for Weinwyr to follow him, so the Goedwrenian did. They entered the estate and Weinwyr was again blown away.

The house itself wasn’t big, but it was made solely of marble. There were various gardens of what looked like hundreds of different kinds of flowers surrounding the house with a fountain in the middle of the black granite walkway. At the center of the fountain stood a large stone ganin, water spouting from its mouth. A ganin was a large catlike creature with dragon horns sprouting from its head. Ganin also had certain elemental powers depending on where they live.

“What do you think?” Tyiâ asked, dismounting his horse. A servant came and took the prince’s horse away. Weinwyr dismounted his horse as well and laughed uncertainly.

“This is certainly something else,” he replied as a servant took his horse away to the stables. “I’ve never seen anything so extravagant.”

“Come on inside. If you think the outside is nice, wait till you come in,” the blonde prince laughed. “Welcome to the Royal Duriân Estate, Weinwyr of Goedwren!”  

7: Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Weinwyr strolled around the grounds of the Duriân estate. He couldn’t believe that over two weeks ago, he set off from Farthia with an unknown cidyn to stop an unstoppable war. He stopped by a patch of white lilies and sighed. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this,” he said to himself. “What was I thinking…?” He kicked at the gravel. “I’m supposed to talk to the king of Duriâ at midday. What am I gonna say? I’ve never talked to anyone so royal before! Crap…” He sat next to the lilies, looking at them wistfully. “I’m in way over my head.”

“Hey, Wei.” The silver haired teen looked up and saw Tyiâ dressed in a light blue tunic. He wasn’t used to seeing the prince without his armor.

“Tyiâ. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the prince sighed, sitting next to Weinwyr. “I thought you’d be rehearsing your speech for my father.”

“I would be, but I have no idea what to say,” Weinwyr said, pulling his knees to his chest. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

The blonde prince smiled and patted Weinwyr’s shoulder. “Say what you feel. What you want to do, yeah? How you wanna do it.”

“I… yeah. I’ll try,” Weinwyr said unsurely. He stood up and trudged back to the house, Tyiâ following close behind. The servants opened the doors for the prince and his guest, and Weinwyr went back to his room. His room wasn’t very big, but it had everything he needed: a luxurious bed, a marble fireplace, and a drawer to hold his few belongings. He flopped onto the bed and sighed loudly. “Say it from the heart… just say it from the heart,” Weinwyr said. He repeated that mantra in his head until there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

A servant entered the room and said, “His majesty, the king, will see you now, sir. He is in his private study. I have been instructed to take you there, sir.” The servant bowed deeply and gestured for Weinwyr to follow. The silver haired teen sighed nervously and hopped off the bed to follow the servant. They walked together until the servant opened the door to the study and said, “Good luck, sir.”

“Thanks,” Weinwyr said, exhaling. He walked into the room and the door shut behind him softly. The study wasn’t very large, but it was ornately decorated with silver and marble. The king himself sat at a small, richly carved mahogany table. His crown was beautifully fashioned silver and it sat next to him. The king had long blonde hair and a thick golden beard. His eyes were an icy blue and they stared daggers into Weinwyr’s soft grey ones. He wore a dark blue robe with a white fur trim. Normally he wore armor along with his cloak, but he decided not to wear it in his study. The king was writing something on a piece of parchment.

“Please, take a seat,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. Weinwyr was taken aback. He expected the king to have a booming, commanding voice that would instill fear in his enemies. Regardless, there was a bit of chill in his voice that forced Weinwyr to sit in the chair opposite the king. The king stared at Weinwyr for a little bit, then said unexpectedly, “This table was made in Goedwren. Coedr, I believe.”

“R-really, sir? Why do you say?” Weinwyr asked.

“My son tells me you are from Goedwren. I am quite fond of their craftsmanship,” the king said. He nodded and laid his quill next to his parchment. “I also understand that you wish to negotiate with me to end this war.”

“Yes, your majesty. Goedwren is the most important place in the world to me. My family lives there, see, and I would be heartbroken if something happened to them,” Weinwyr said honestly. “Another town in Goedwren was destroyed a little over two weeks ago by Duriân forces. I don’t want to hear that the next town was my own, your majesty.”

The king nodded while Weinwyr talked and said after the teen was finished, “You may call me Suriâ, son. My son, the prince, may make me out to be some villain, but I do not wish for Goedwren to suffer any further.” Suriâ rubbed his temples. “I would hate to see fine work such as this destroyed by my own armies.”

“Then please, sir! Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“It’s not as simple as that. If I were to surrender to the Cleddtânians, I would be forced to abdicate and their forces would overrun my cities,” Suriâ said chillingly. “Artân is not willing to negotiate with me as I am with you.”

“There’s no way then, is there?” Weinwyr asked dejectedly. He slumped in his chair and hung his head.

Suriâ furrowed his thick brows and stared at the tabletop intently. He eventually looked back at Weinwyr and asked, “What if you travelled to Tanier and spoke with him?”

“That was my original plan, but Tyiâ said that he’d be more likely to cut me in half than to talk to me,” muttered the Goedwrenian. To his surprise yet again, the king laughed heartily. “Euh, sir, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a laughing matter.”

“No, of course it isn’t,” Suriâ chuckled. “My son says the most ridiculous things. He meets their king once and automatically assumes he’s a monster. While he’s not pleasant to be around, he certainly is no beast. He cares for his people and is only continuing his attack against Duriâ because he wants what’s best for them. Artân’s only flaw is that he cares not for the suffering of the other kingdoms. Not mine, not the morlau, nor the cidyn.” The king sighed. “If we could work together and be united, the land of Elfen would be much more peaceful.”

Weinwyr was shocked. “T-Tyiâ said that you weren’t at all interested in ending the war!” he blurted out. He cursed himself in his mind as soon as he said so.

“Ah, boys will be boys. Always trying to make their own fathers the criminal and take all the credit.” The king chuckled again. “I tend to not speak on these matters with my family. But that is beside the point.” Suriâ stood and strode gracefully to the large window in the study. He gazed over the courtyard and said, “There is nothing I would love more than to end this pointless conflict. To spend time with my family, and to tend to my flowers. They all look so sad…” Weinwyr stared at the king with newfound respect.

“Sir, may I ask why you don’t just tell Tyiâ that you want the war to end as well? He is hell bent on the idea that you don’t care,”Weinwyr said, turning in his chair to face the king. Suriâ sighed, his age showing on his face when he looked back at the young man.

“My son and I have never been on good terms ever since his mother, Gleirwd, died of the plague when he was but a mere boy. I could not raise him alone and I could never spend any time with him as I was burdened with running my kingdom,” Suriâ said slowly and sadly. He walked back to his seat and sat, rubbing his forehead. “The only times I would get to see him was during dinner, and he always seemed distant and detached when we spoke, as if I weren’t there, or as if I weren’t his father. I never told him that I wished so dearly for this war to be over was because I assumed he was not interested in being my son any longer. I figured he would be upset.”

Weinwyr rubbed his eyes. Tears started to well up, so he quickly got rid of them. “Sir, your majesty, king Suriâ! I’m sure that Tyiâ would be overjoyed to work with you! You’re both working towards the same thing, aren’t you? You just have to ask!” Weinwyr said loudly, tripping over some words. “With your influence, his determination, and both of your brilliant minds, you could do anything!” The king smiled warmly.

“Yes… I believe in that. Thank you, Weinwyr of Goedwren,” he said. Suriâ stood again and immediately kneeled before Weinwyr, bowing his head. Weinwyr was absolutely flustered and couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The king looked up at the teenager with warmth in his icy blue eyes. “You have given me hope in an otherwise hopeless world, and for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“N-no, it’s really nothing…” Weinwyr spluttered. The king is bowing to me?! This definitely was not how this was supposed to go. The king stood again and offered a ringed hand for Weinwyr. He pulled the Goedwrenian out of his seat.

“Dinner will be served at sundown. We shall discuss your travelling arrangements to Tanier then. In the mean time, you should get some rest and I shall go talk to my son,” said Suriâ, grinning widely under his beard. He and Weinwyr went to the door and the king told the servant outside to escort his guest back to his room.

After Weinwyr got back to his small room, he breathed a loud, relieved sigh. He threw himself on the bed and thought, That was completely unexpected!! How did I end up helping the king? That was not how things were supposed to go at all. But… now I know that at least one side is interested in ending the war. The next challenge is trying to convince Artân to cease fighting, too… oh, boy… may the gods smile in my favor.

 

8: Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After one final evening in Rhefryn, Weinwyr found himself on the dark docks of Wiordir. Wiordir was a hastily built, costal town soon after the war started. It didn’t have many citizens or buildings, but it was the perfect place for a stolen Cleddtânian ship to set sail for the Cleddtân city of Wydrad. Dweir was with the Goedwrenian teen along with a crew of other men. They were all were dressed in stolen Cleddtânian clothing, mostly red and black fabrics and lots of leather. Suriâ was there as well, but he wore his normal clothing.

“This ship is a little out of date, but it should get you into Cleddtân without any problems,” the king said. Weinwyr nodded. Suriâ put a hand on Weinwyr’s shoulder and said encouragingly, “Don’t worry. Artân may be stubborn, but he will listen. If you can convince him as you have me, this war may be over by winter.”

“I hope so, sir. Thank you for your hospitality,” Weinwyr said, bowing to the king. He and the crew boarded the ship, and Weinwyr cast one more glance at the Duriân king. He put his right fist over his heart, saluting the crew as they hauled the anchor on board and prepared to cast off. The ship had left the dock and by the time Weinwyr got to look back towards the king, he was gone. The silver haired teen sighed and went back to the deck. Dweir was there organizing Cleddtânian weapons when Weinwyr walked over, dropping his small bag and sword.

“You look down, son,” he commented, putting some small axes on top of a pile of swords.

“You would be too if you had to save the world,” Weinwyr replied dryly. “I was optimistic when I started out with Cywar, but now I’m just not sure. I’ve never been so far away from home…”

“I know how you feel, son. I grew up in the small town of Pintrefan. It’s probably bigger since then… anyway, after my father left my family, my mother couldn’t carry on, so I left, too. I must have been… your age at the time. I went to Rhefryn, Tanier, Tarfollt, and Rhae. Oh… the places I’ve been! The things I’ve seen! But, I always missed home the most. I can’t ever know the burden of saving the world, but if it’s any consolation, you can always talk to me about these things,” Dweir said, smiling.

Weinwyr grinned back and nodded in thanks. He stood, picking up his bag and sword, and said, “I’m gonna go lie down. Boats have never been my favorite thing.” Dweir wished him goodnight and went back to sorting weapons. Weinwyr walked below deck and looked around for an open cot. He finally found one, threw his bag down, and curled up in the cot. He fell asleep quickly to the rocking of the ship.

~~~~~~~~

He had bizarre dreams. He was incredibly tall, overlooking all of Elfen, and the lands beyond. Soon, he was so tall that he was standing in the night sky, but the whole world was a little marble filled with color. He picked it up and stared at it intently. Weinwyr couldn’t believe that that little, beautiful ball he lived on was at war. Suddenly, the stars were rocking in the sky. He dropped the marble and he was falling.

WHUMP.

Weinwyr was laying face down on the hard wooden floor. He looked up and the crew was leaping into action. “W-what’s going on?!” he called.

One crew man shouted, “Storm!”

A storm? But the weather was supposed to have been clear for days! No rain! No nothing! What’s going on?! Weinwyr pushed himself off the ground and run up on deck with the rest of the crew. He was shocked. Rain splattered the deck and the wind howled against the sails. Some of the waves rose above the ship and crashed against it. The whole ship rocked violently. We’re gonna sink if this keeps up! Lightning struck the starboard side of the deck, starting a fire that spread to the sails quickly.

Dweir shouted angrily at Weinwyr, “Get off the deck! We can handle this!”

“But…!” Weinwyr was cut off when the ship jerked forcefully. He was thrown back against the mast, knocking his head. He looked up blearily as another wave of water crashed against the deck. Before he knew what was happening, he was washed toward the slipway where all the water was pouring off. A crewmember grabbed his arm before he was washed overboard.

“Hang on, kid!” he yelled, pulling Weinwyr away from the slipway. However, another violent wave of seawater knocked the two of them into the slipway and out into the cold, dark ocean.

~~~~~~~~

Weinwyr awoke on a wooden board next to the crewmember that tried to save him. The storm had ended and the ship was nowhere in sight. He groaned and rubbed the back of his head. Blood dried in his hair. Weinwyr felt over the rest of his face and found that it had been scratched up pretty badly. Must have happened when we were washed over… ow… where are we anyway…? The crewmember next to him came around as well. “Are you alright?” Weinwyr asked. His voice cracked because his throat was so dry.

“…yes… I’m sorry, sir…” he croaked back. He clung to the board with one arm and his other he kept close to his side; Weinwyr assumed it was broken. “I tried to save you and I was too weak…”

“Oh, shut up. No one can stand up to the power of the ocean like that. You tried, and that’s all the gods could ask for,” Weinwyr said, shifting his position on the board. He looked around at the vast expanse of blue. “There has to be a ship somewhere… they have to turn back, right?”

“It would take them ages to find us… in this ocean…” the man said woefully. He sighed, pain filling his eyes. “We’ll die of thirst out here…”

"No!” There has to be something I can do! I thought… after we were attacked by bandits… I thought I used some kind of magic! Why can’t I use it now?! Dammit! He clenched his fist, feeling absolutely useless. Where’s all the energy I had before?! He slammed his fist of the board and it rocked sharply. The wind picked up behind him.

“Sir… please keep calm!” the crew man said, gripping the board tightly as it moved. The wind whistled in their ears and the board slowly floated north. “Sir, how is this happening? There was no wind…”

Weinwyr looked at the sky hopefully. Maybe I can control this…? He uncurled his fingers slowly and shot his arm forward. The wind picked up and they were pushed along quickly. “There must be land somewhere… surely…” Eventually, Weinwyr was exhausted. He scanned the horizon for any sign of land. Although he could barely make it out, a small speck was moving towards the marooned men.

The crewmember spotted the speck as well and his face lit up. “Sir! Is that a ship? Hey! We’re over here! HEEEEY!!” He tried to lift his injured arm to wave to them, but he couldn’t. “We need to signal them! Sir, can you use your magic one more time?” Weinwyr nodded silently and mustered up the last of his strength to use his power to push them towards the moving speck. The speck finally grew into a small fishing boat. Three men leapt into the water and swam towards Weinwyr and the crewmember. As they got closer, Weinwyr noticed that the figures weren’t actually men; they were morlau. They had seal-like faces and dark blue gray, waterproof fur covering their large muscular bodies. The two men were hauled aboard by the morlau. Weinwyr felt himself being lifted and carried somewhere, but he couldn’t tell where. He was laid on a cot and he fell fast asleep, worn out.

 

9: Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Weinwyr awoke to a morlau’s sea blue eyes staring into his own gray eyes. “Uh… can I help you?” he asked, unsure if the morlau even spoke Genseas.

“Qŵeg exo ziu biâsr âs Vetsqx?” the morlau asked threateningly. Weinwyr’s eyes widened. He couldn’t speak a word of the morlau language. The morlau had dark blue wavy stripes on his face and torso. Two triangular stripes streaked under his eyes.

“Ah. Do you speak Genseas?” Weinwyr asked. When the morlau didn’t answer, he said, “I’m Weinwyr. Wein-wyr. Understand?”

The morlau jabbed a webbed (and clawed) finger into the Goedwrenian’s chest and said, “Weinwyr.”

“Yeah! Good. Now, what’s your name? Who are you?” Weinwyr poked the morlau’s chest. He expected it to be fluffy, but the fur on his chest was actually very rough. The morlau pointed at himself.

“Fovqx… grrrr… Sssselŵr,” he said slowly.

“Selŵr! It’s lovely to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances,” Weinwyr said cheerfully, holding out his hand to shake. Selŵr arched his neck back and stared at the human hand. No webbing, no claws, no fur. How strange. “Here, let me show you what to do…” Weinwyr took one of Selŵr’s paws and took hold of it firmly.

“… gŵâx âx fgxesro… odd paw,” Selŵr said curiously. Weinwyr shook the morlau’s massive paws and Selŵr grinned widely. His mouth was filled with sharp teeth. He laughed gruffly and shook Weinwyr’s whole arm. “Odd paw! Odd paw! Shake paw!”

“Perfect! You lean quickly, Selŵr. Do you know anything else in Genseas?” the silver haired teen asked. He had to yank his hand out of Selŵr’s huge paw before it was shaken to death.

The morlau nodded, the rough hair on his head bobbing up and down. “Genseas. Yah. Yah. Human in Vetsqx. Er… you call Lafnŵr, yah? You there.”

“Lafnŵr! I’m really there? Rhae? Is that where we are?”

“Yah. Xŵeo. Rhae. Yah,” Selŵr replied, nodding more. A shout in the morlau language was heard and Selŵr stood up. He was a good two feet taller than Weinwyr and when he turned around, Weinwyr saw a long, strong looking tail with seal-like flippers on either side of the end. He had various stripes on his back. His rough blue hair was tied up with a strip of leather and it hung down past his middle back. He called back and turned to Weinwyr and said, “I go. You stay. I come back.” Without waiting for an answer, Selŵr swiftly climbed up the ladder to the deck.

Weinwyr sighed. He looked around at the living quarters. It was very small with room for only six or seven. The other crewmember washed away with Weinwyr was resting on a cot peacefully. The Goedwrenian swung his legs over the cot and stood up slowly. His head throbbed painfully, but he walked over to the crewmember and looked down at him. His arm was bound in a splint and he slept, snuffling softly. “I hope he’s alright… he risked his life to save me, and he still got washed overboard,” Weinwyr said woefully. “I’m so sorry.”

The man turned over in his sleep and woke up abruptly, snapping open his green eyes. He sat up in a cold sweat. “Sir… I-I had a terrible dream that we were washed overboard… and the ship left us behind…” He looked up at Weinwyr and sighed. “… oh… right… that actually happened… sir, where are we?”

“On a morlau ship. Selŵr said we’re in Rhae, the capital,” Weinwyr replied. When the man looked confused, Weinwyr said quickly, “Selŵr’s a morlau on the ship. He speaks Genseas! Sort of…”

“Do you think he can convince the captain to take us to Wydrad? We need to reach our party and soon, sir,” the man said, shifting his splinted arm.

“I’m sure I can ask.” Weinwyr sat next to the man’s cot and asked, “What’s your name? I didn’t have time to ask you while we were stranded and dying.”

“Eirnydd. That’s my name,” Eirnydd said, chuckling. “You’re interesting, sir. Normally, anyone we escort doesn’t care about the soldiers’ names.”

Weinwyr shrugged and said, “I’m not like them. I’m a commoner. Just a simple worker from Goedwren trying to stop this lamentable war.”

“A commoner? I guess I don’t have to say ‘sir,’ do I?” Eirnydd asked, relaxing his tense shoulders. Weinwyr smiled and shook his head.

“Where do you come from?”

“Ocio, actually. My family is all miners and I was the first to join the army,” Eirnydd said bashfully. He ran a hand through his black hair. Selŵr came loping back down into the living quarters.

He pointed at the two humans and said, “You come with us. See king, yah. He want speak with you.” Weinwyr stood up and helped Eirnydd onto his feet. The three went onto the deck and Weinwyr squinted in the sudden brightness. When his eyes readjusted, he gazes at the city of Rhae.

Rhae wasn’t a huge city, but it was sizable. No tall buildings or buildings made of stone in this seaside city. The wood, mud, and palm leaf huts and shops surrounded a larger building, presumably the palace. It was lavishly decorated with turquoise stones, shells, and ornate ivory carvings. A large expanse of palm trees stretched to the gently sloping hills behind the city. A party of morlau escorting the two humans disembarked from the ship and headed towards the palace silently. The large wooden doors were pulled open to reveal a hall decorated with tribal paintings of the morlau’s greatest heroes. The party walked down the hall and through another tall doorway into a large open chamber. The intricate ceiling was held up with ivory pillars. In the center of the chamber sat the king of Lafnŵr upon a palm wood throne.

The king stood and said in a booming voice, “Humans. Come, kneel before my throne and gaze upon my greatness.” Weinwyr and Eirnydd walked forward and did as they were told. The king dismissed the party of morlau, but Selŵr stayed behind, loping up to the throne and kneeling next to it. The king was slightly bigger than Selŵr and they looked a lot alike. The king’s fur and hair were slightly lighter but his eyes were the same shade of blue. He held a tall spear made of the bone of a whale. “Why are you here, humans? Your kind rarely ventures on our land, except perhaps when we trade.”

“We were washed off our ship, O great king,” Weinwyr said, bowing his head. “Selŵr’s ship rescued us from certain death.”

“Ah. I would expect nothing less from my dear little brother,” the king said icily, glaring at Selŵr. The younger brother suddenly found interest in the floor. The king hissed something in the morlau tongue to Selŵr and continued, “I command you to leave this place. Humans are not welcome here.”

“W-why not?” asked Weinwyr before receiving a sharp glare from the king. “Er… I mean… why aren’t humans welcome, O great king?”

“You humans are a pestilence with your petty wars and your wasteful way of life,” the king snorted. “Not to mention your kind always tries to involve my kingdom in your pathetic battles. You want me to sacrifice my people in place of yours? Pah! I think not.”

Weinwyr stood up suddenly and said loudly, “We don’t want that at all! We’re trying to stop this war! We don’t want it to continue just as much as you. Too many people have died fighting a worthless war, and we want your help to end it!” The king slammed his spear against the ground, immediately silencing the teen.

“You will not speak unless spoken to!” the king shouted, standing up and baring his teeth. He sat back down, but Weinwyr could almost feel the anger radiating off of him. Selŵr whispered something or other in his brother’s ear. The king stayed silent for a minute, but he eventually said, “You have no sense of respect, human. Normally, I would severely punish any human who would even set foot on our land. But, as much as much as I hate to say, I believe you. Selŵr tells me that you are unlike the other humans. I will allow you to stay in Rhae tonight, but you must leave at dawn. We will provide you a small boat, but that is it. Selŵr, take them to the prison.”

Selŵr grumbled and ushered Weinwyr and Eirnydd out of the palace. As soon as they were back in the sunlight, the towering morlau said, “Sorry. Big brother is always like that.”

“I-it’s no trouble… I’m just glad we didn’t end up skewered,” Eirnydd said. “It’s stupid of him to hate humans… what have we done to him?” Selŵr gave Eirnydd a sharp look.

“You Duriân, yah?” he asked. Eirnydd nodded slowly and Selŵr continued, “Then you know ‘bout Rhae attack, no? Duriâ attack Rhae in night when Father say he no help humans. Palace near burn to ground. Father killed. Big Brother take over throne and ban humans from Lafnŵr.”

“I… I didn’t know that…” Eirnydd admitted. “Why didn’t I know? I’ve been in the army for almost four years now…”

“Big secret. No one knew,” Selŵr said. He pushed the two humans along to the prison and found the least ratty cells. No rats, just a lot of muck. There was one, grimy bed in each cell. The walls were lined with a thin layer of salt. “Sorry. Best cells. Others are worse or have danger in ‘em. Sleep here. All good, yah?” Weinwyr and Eirnydd entered the two cells and Selŵr locked them in. “I be back with food, yah? Hope you like fish.”

 

10: Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The sun wasn’t even up by the time Weinwyr and Eirnydd were forced out of their cell. The two humans were lead through the mist to a small boat on the docks. Selŵr was one of the morlau escorting the two and he muttered something to the other two morlau. They left, leaving Weinwyr, Eirnydd, and Selŵr on the docks. “I come with, yah,” Selŵr stated. He tossed some supplies into the boat.

“What? Why? Wouldn’t the king… you know… behead us?” Weinwyr asked nervously, looking around to make sure no one was near them.

“Don’t care. I want to join you on quest. Yah. Want to make difference, not hide in palace.” Selŵr ushered the two humans into the boat quickly, pushing off. “No argue.”

“I guess we can’t say no,” Eirnydd mumbled. He sat near the front of the boat to keep watch. Weinwyr sat next Selŵr who had taken the position of the oarsman.

“Have you ever been to Cleddtân before?” the silver haired teen asked curiously.

Selŵr shook his massive head and replied, “No. I heard stories from brother king. Very hot. Very dry. Not pleasant for morlau.”

“Anything… about the king?”

“Yah. Cleddtân king very proud. Very stubborn. Insist we help with human war,” he snorted, “He seem to be only one who want war.” The two talked for hours until about midday. Weinwyr dug through the bag of supplies and found some smoked fish. He cut it up into thirds with his knife and handed slices to Selŵr and Eirnydd. They thanked him and devoured the fish.

Weinwyr nibbled on his fish as Eirnydd asked, “How long do you think it’ll be till Wydrad?”

“Not going to Wydrad,” Selŵr mumbled through a mouthful of fish, “Takes too long. We go to Chydân. Take less time. Be there by dawn.”

“What? But our crew is in Wydrad! We have to see if they’re okay!”

“Yah. But this way faster. Be in Tanier faster. Everything faster,” Selŵr argued. The two gave each other the silent treatment while Weinwyr sat between the two, eating slowly and glancing back and forth between the morlau and the soldier. The hours ticked by until Eirnydd fell asleep at the front of the boat.

Weinwyr stretched and asked Selŵr, “Do you need to sleep? I can take over rowing if you’d like.”

“No. Thanks though. Boat goes faster when I row. You sleep, little Weinwyr. We be at Cleddtân soon.” Weinwyr nodded and curled up in the bottom of the boat on a rough cotton blanket. He fell asleep quickly to the sound of the rhythmic waves splashing against the boat.

~~~~~~~~

As Selŵr had said, the little boat reached the small port town of Chydân by dawn. Chydân was a dumpy town with few citizens and even fewer soldiers. It was once a sprawling, beautiful city, but since the war began, the gorgeous buildings slowly decayed to rubble. All that remained were a couple shoddy shops and a few sparse farms. The small group disembarked and Selŵr tied up the boat. “We sell boat. No need for it now,” he said. The two humans nodded and went on the search for a merchant. Weinwyr spotted a stand on the dock and ran up to it.

“Hi, kid. What can I do for you,” the merchant stated flatly. He flipped a coin lazily.

“We would like to sell our boat, please,” Weinwyr said, “How much can you take for it?” He pointed at the small cutter.

“Ehh… not a lot, kid. Twenty bars at most,” the man said, shrugging. Weinwyr sighed. He didn’t have any brass on him to try and swindle the merchant.

“Can’t you give me at least forty bars?”

“Nope. I’m stayin’ at twenty.”

“Thirty five?”

“Twenty.”

Weinwyr sighed again. Selŵr and Eirnydd walked up to the merchants stand as well with the bag of supplies. Selŵr had to bend down to look at the man eye to eye. “We take thirty five, yah?”

“Look, I already told the kid that I won’t go no higher than twenty bars. You ain’t gettin’ a different price, pal,” the merchant said, but Weinwyr could see him tremble a bit.

“Thirty five,” Selŵr growled. He clenched his fists and the man shook so badly he may have rocked the whole dock.

“F-fine! Thirty five! Fine! Take it!” the man stuttered. He pulled out a bag of Haeltân bars and dumped them out. They clanked on the table softly. He counted out thirty five of the bars and begrudgingly handed them over to the lumbering morlau.

“Thank you, puny merchant man,” Selŵr said, ushering the two smaller humans along. The merchant grumbled as they left.

“That… was pretty impressive,” Eirnydd admitted.

“Ancient morlau swindle technique~” Selŵr smirked. They proceeded to a few stores to buy some more food and an extra tent. That left them with twenty-one bars left to buy a couple horses. They got two normal sized horses for Weinwyr and Eirnydd and a huge draft horse for Selŵr. He’d never ridden a horse before, so the humans had to spend a good few hours teaching the morlau how. Soon they were off in a northwesterly direction towards a city called Ganialwach. Ganialwach was the midpoint city between the coast and the capital. Eirnydd figured they could try to find their original Duriân escort party there. They rode along in silence due to the extreme heat. The scenery never seemed to change; sand, rocks, shrubs here and there, generally just a whole lot of nothing. The Llosfyn mountains loomed in the distance ominously.

~~~~~~~~

Soon, the sun had set behind the mountains and the group was forced to stop. They stopped by a spindly old tree where Selŵr tied up the three horses. Weinwyr set up the two tents while Eirnydd tried to collect anything he could find for a fire. There wasn’t an abundance of sticks and logs like the Duriân was used to, but he managed to find a few charred twigs and dry shrubs. He grumbled, “I can’t get this damn fire started with one arm…” He held two stones in his hands, but he was having difficulty striking them together.

“Here, let me help,” Weinwyr said, “I’m done with the tents, anyway.” As he was reaching for the stones, he felt a spark sting his hand and the small pile of twigs and shrubs lit up in a blaze. He hadn’t even touched the stones. He and Eirnydd stared incredulously at the fire.

“How did…?” Eirnydd started. He was at a loss for words. Weinwyr was just as confused.

I just… what?! Fire magic too? How is that possible? I didn’t even know I could use wind magic until just recently! What is going on…? Weinwyr shook his head and said, “I-I don’t know how that happened.”

“You Caster, little Weinwyr?” Selŵr asked curiously. He’d finished feeding the horses and sat down next to the silver haired teen. The huge morlau tilted his head, staring at Weinwyr.

“Yeah, I think so… but as far as I knew, I could only cast wind magic,” Weinwyr answered, “How did I create that spark?”

Selŵr crossed his arms, deep in thought. He looked over Weinwyr with his deep blue eyes. “You very strange, little Weinwyr. Hair, eyes, skin… much like Ywar, yah.”

“Wh-what? Why does everybody think I’m from the Ywar Empire?” Weinwyr asked, anger creeping into his voice. He caught Selŵr’s and Eirnydd’s glances, so he retorted, “I’m not, alright?”

“But, Weinwyr, from what I’ve heard, the people that live in the Ywar Empire are extremely powerful Casters, and on top of that they have a strange complexion. Silver hair, silver eyes, dark skin… I’ve seen the drawings of what they’re supposed to look like in the library at Rhefryn,” Eirnydd said slowly, “I wasn’t even sure humans could look that beautiful.”

“So? That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Why you try deny this, little Weinwyr? You could be Ywar, yah. You ever think on that, eh?” Selŵr asked. “Where you from?”

“I’m from Farthia. It’s a small town in Goedwren,” Weinwyr said. He clenched his fists. This conversation was all too similar to the one he had with Cywar all those weeks ago.

“I been to Goedwren. They tall. Tall muscle men. You not that. You not like men in Duriâ or Cleddtân either. For all we know, you Ywarian man,” Selŵr said. The morlau pulled his bag closer to him and pulled out some food to cook while Weinwyr sat silently. Eirnydd and Selŵr could almost feel the fury radiating off of the young man. Selŵr started to roast some fish over the fire.

Weinwyr stood suddenly and muttered, “I’m going to find more fuel for the fire.”

“Don’t wander too far,” Selŵr said back. Weinwyr nodded wordlessly and stormed off into the desert. Eirnydd asked:

“D’you think you were too forward with him?”

“Nah. Just curious why he deny heri… hera… I do not know word in Genseas…”

“Heritage. He’s denying his heritage…”

~~~~~~~~~

Weinwyr wandered through the desert, kicking stones moodily, but consistently looking behind him to make sure he could still see the steady stream of smoke rising from the campsite. He grumbled, “What do they know? I couldn’t be Ywarian. That’s impossible.” A little voice in Weinwyr’s head kept repeating:

What if it’s true? What if Cywar, Selŵr, and Eirnydd are right? What if I am Ywarian?

“Shut up,” Weinwyr snapped at himself, “It can’t be true.”

You don’t know where you come from. You were adopted. You must be from the Ywar Empire. What other explanation is there?

“Shut up!” Weinwyr stopped walking and clenched his fists so tightly he felt his fingernails cut his palms. He sighed heavily and mumbled, “It can’t be. If I’m from the Ywar Empire, then why am I here? Why?!”

 

 

11: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The small group made it to Ganialwach the next day, though Weinwyr kept silent for the rest of the trip. Ganialwach was a midsized city with only a few tall buildings made of nice stone. The rest of the buildings were made cheap stone and decaying wood. Despite the shoddy look of the city, it was bustling with people. The group dismounted and led their horses through the crowd. Everyone was incredibly loud. Merchant hovels and shops lined the streets, the owners trying to pull potential customers in. Selŵr kept an eye on the two humans so they wouldn’t get lost as they weaved through the narrow streets.

“How’re we going to find Dweir and the others in this place…?” Eirnydd hissed.

“Don’t worry. We find them. No problem, yah,” Selŵr assured. Eirnydd didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded anyway. Weinwyr stayed quiet. They made it out of the alleys and into the main square. The square was much less crowded. Buildings surrounded the cobblestone area and in the centre of the square stood a towering, crumbling granite statue of Tân, the God of fire. He resembled a man with long hair, sharp horns sprouting out of his forehead, and a tail lashing behind him. His expression was fierce, but the decaying stone took away from the majesty of the statue. The group tied up their horses to a nearby fence post around the statue.

Weinwyr looked over the statue, feeling drawn to it. It looked as if flames could burst out of the statue’s snarling mouth at any time. Can you tell me why I can use fire…? Weinwyr thought. He stared at the statue intently and sighed. Like a statue can tell me that. “Well, where do we start looking for our group?” Weinwyr asked to nobody in particular.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea to just go ask someone. ‘Hey, we’re looking for some Duriân intruders. Happen to know where they might be?’” Eirnydd asked sarcastically. Selŵr chuckled slightly while Weinwyr wasn’t as amused.

“We’ll have to act. We should split up and pretend like we’re from around here and ask around for prisoners coming from Wydrad,” Weinwyr said. He glanced at one of the tall fancy buildings and noted one of them had a clock on it. “Can you tell time, Eirnydd?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I can’t, really. Can you tell me how?”

“I can no read number building, either,” Selŵr said.

Eirnydd rubbed his temples and asked, “Alright… you see that little hand pointing at the number nine?” Weinwyr and Selŵr nodded, so Eirnydd said, “How about we meet back up at this statue when the little hand points at the eleven.”

The small group separated, disappearing into the streets. Weinwyr wandered down a narrow close. People crowded around him, trying to get him to buy whatever useless junk they were selling. One of the sellers called, “Hey, kid! Wanna buy some of the best china in Cleddtân? It’s half off today!”

“Thanks, but no thanks, sir,” Weinwyr said politely, “but can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, kid. Fire away.”

“I’m part of a secret force sent by Artân himself to investigate criminals,” Weinwyr lied convincingly. The shopkeeper looked shocked.

“Er… criminals, eh? Well, noble sir, I-I can assure you there are no criminals here,” he stammered, “I’m a good, honest man who sells nothin’ but honestly acquired goods.”

“I mean war criminals, sir,” Weinwyr said. The seller relaxed.

“Oh! Right! Yes, of course, honourable sir.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter of his shabby shop. It had a low hanging roof with various trinkets and stained glass curios hanging off the beams. Glassware, china, silverware, and pottery lined the counters and shelves behind the seller. “I’m happy to comply,” he added quickly, “Gorlach’s my name, if you need it for your… records, or whatever.”

“Thank you, sir Gorlach. Artân will hear of your assistance. Has there been any news on prisoners being brought through Ganialwach or any surrounding cities?” Weinwyr inquired. Gorlach scratched his scruffy chin.

“Well… I heard somethin’ went down in Wydrad a couple days ago. The army caught some Duriân’s tryin’ to sneak into our borders. Heard they killed a couple of ‘em,” Gorlach said.

Weinwyr narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? How many?”

“Maybe… two or three. Not a lot. They brought ‘em through Ganialwach yesterday. Had ‘em all up in chains and irons. I remember tossing a rotten tomato at one of ‘em.”

“Is that so?” Weinwyr fumed. He clenched his fists and forced himself to say calmly, “Thank you, sir. D’you have any idea where they are being taken?”

“You should know, most imperial sir! Waedtân; the capital’s most brutal prison. I bet they’d wish they were dead after spending a night there,” Gorlach smirked. He grinned toothily and asked, “Anythin’ else you need, most distinguished sir? Anythin’ you’d like to buy? Again, all the china is half off today~”

“No, thank you, Gorlach. I’ll see that you are rewarded for your help,” Weinwyr said quickly. He made his way out of the close after saluting (incorrectly) to Gorlach. Gorlach gawked at him confusedly and saluted (correctly) back. Weinwyr looked at the clock, trying to read it. “Argh… which is the eleven again? Is it the crossed lines and the other line? Or the two crossed lines? Damn, I wish I knew how to read…” The silver haired teen scratched his head. The clock’s hand pointed at the number ten, but Weinwyr went back to the statue and sat at the foot of it. He sat there for a good hour before he saw Selŵr lumber into the square.

The morlau grinned, showing off his pointy teeth, and boomed, “Little Weinwyr! You okay, yah?”

“Just fine, Selŵr,” Weinwyr called back. He stood and walked over to Selŵr just as Eirnydd strolled up to the statue.

“Find anything?” Eirnydd asked.

“Yeah, apparently the army apprehended some Duriân spies in Wydrad and brought them through here,” Weinwyr explained, “the man I talked to said they were on their way to Waedtân.” Eirnydd gasped.

“W-Waedtân?! They won’t survive there,” Eirnydd groaned. He rubbed his temples and said, “I’ve heard horrible stories about that place. They say soldiers who sentenced there are subjugated to terrible torture, starvation, scalping, gassing, and death! Hopefully in that order, too.”

“In that case, we have to catch up to them,” Weinwyr said, but Selŵr shook his head.

“Nah. Not catch up to them, little Weinwyr,” he grumbled, “Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“When we catch them, what do then? Free prisoner? Fight soldier? Death likely. Think new plan, little Weinwyr.”

Weinwyr crossed his arms, deep in thought. “… the only thing I can think of is to appeal to Artân to free them, but that’s almost as crazy as going after the soldiers,” he said, “if we want to reach the capital before they do, we’ll have to leave now.”

“I get horses, yah? We leave,” Selŵr stated. He trotted over to the horses and untied them. He pulled them gently back to Weinwyr and Eirnydd. He pulled himself up onto the huge draft horse while the other two hopped on their own horses. Without a word, they galloped through the crowded streets, the throngs of people parting as the horses dashed through the closes. Soon they were back in the desert, riding southwest towards Tanier.

~~~~~~~~

They had the prisoner escort in their sights. Eirnydd was the first to see the horses and large iron carriage kicking up dust and sand on the horizon. He alerted Selŵr and Weinwyr to stay a good distance away from the escort, but to keep a close eye on them. The escort’s pace was relentless. The group was so focused on the carriage and horses in front of them that they hadn’t noticed the second party of horses thundering in the distance behind them. Soon however, the second party was within hearing range of Selŵr’s sensitive ears. He looked behind him and shouted:

“Horses!”

Eirnydd and Weinwyr looked back as well. There appeared to be about four or five horses behind them. The sun glinted off the armour of the riders as they approached. Weinwyr focused back on the carriage. It was still ahead of them, but it seemed to be slowing down. The riders behind them were gaining on them.

“Get off the road!” Eirnydd called, veering his horse to the right, “We have to lose them!” Weinwyr and Selŵr did the same, following Eirnydd off the road and into the rocky desert. The soldiers doggedly followed them. Horsemen from the escort turned around and galloped straight for the group. The men drew their crossbows and fired. Arrows rained down, startling the group’s horses. Weinwyr, Eirnydd, and Selŵr were forced to stop as the Cleddtânian horsemen surrounded them. Eight crossbows pointed at the travellers. The last man stayed still, eying the group.

“Off your horses. Now!” one of the soldiers ordered. The group did as they were told, putting their hands up in surrender. The man still on his horse slid off and walked slowly up to Weinwyr. His armour was much fancier than the rest of the soldiers, and it clanked while he walked. His helmet covered face. He looked over the group.

“Take these men prisoner,” he instructed. The soldiers quickly apprehended the travellers, shackling their wrists. He removed his helmet. He was unexpectedly younger than Weinwyr thought. He had jet black hair and golden brown eyes. His skin was tanned, evidence of living in the sun for years.

“M-my lord! Put your helmet back on!” a soldier exclaimed, but the young man waved his hand dismissively.

“I wish for my prisoners to see who captured them before they rot in Waedtân,” the young man scoffed. He turned to his captives and snapped, “Kneel.” Weinwyr glared at the heavily armoured youth but did as he was told. Selŵr and Eirnydd kneeled as well. The young man smirked and pointed to his chest proudly. “Remember that you were captured by the Almighty Sotân, the Golden Prince of Cleddtân!”

12: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The prisoners and the soldiers made it to the outskirts of Tanier that evening. Waedtân was near the centre of the city and the Duriân trespassers were to be taken there at first light. The iron carriage rolled to a stop outside a rough canvas tent. The prisoners were roughly pulled out of the carriage and shoved into the tent. Each prisoner, including Weinwyr, Eirnydd, and Selŵr, was blindfolded and bound by iron shackles. After every prisoner was inside the tent, the blindfolds were ripped off them.

Weinwyr blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Mistakenly, he asked, “Where are we?”

“Keep quiet!” a soldier barked, hitting Weinwyr in the stomach with the butt of his crossbow. The teen keeled over and the other prisoners rushed to his aid. “The prince is going to speak to you curs. You'd best hold your tongue.” Weinwyr glared at the soldier as he turned to leave.

“Are you all right, son?” a familiar voice asked. Weinwyr was relieved to see Dweir offering him a hand up.

“Yeah...” Weinwyr replied. He gratefully took Dweir's hand and stood up again. “Ow... he didn't have to do that,” he grumbled disdainfully.

“We're their prisoners. To those soldiers we're not worth much more than dirt,” Dweir said, narrowing his eyes, “But this prince... he's actually going to talk to us? Curious.”

Selŵr tugged at his shackles with his teeth. They were too small for his large wrists and they cut through his tough fur. He growled, “When he come, I tear head off.”

“N-no, Selŵr. Please don't rip anyone's head off. I think that would cause a bit of a problem for us,” Eirnydd muttered as the prince entered the tent. Two soldiers stationed themselves behind him. Sotân eyed his prisoners scathingly, smirking.

“Kneel!” A soldier shouted. The prisoners did as they were told.

“So you thought you could waltz into Cleddtân unnoticed?” he asked, “Do you take me and my men for idiots? Did you think we wouldn't find you?”

Sort of, Weinwyr thought angrily, glaring at the prince. Sotân caught Weinwyr's glare and smirked. The soldier on the prince's right pointed his crossbow at Weinwyr.

“Peasant,” Sotân chuckled, “You do realise who I am, right?”

“Sure I do. I don't care though,” Weinwyr snapped.

“Such words are punishable by death.”

“Kill me then. You'll never learn anything from us.”

“Learn what? What could you, a puny little Duriân cur, have that's of any value to me?”

Weinwyr gulped. He knew he'd possibly have to lie a little. But any slip ups and he was almost positive he'd meet the sharp end of an arrow. “You think I'm Duriân? That's cute. No, you see I'm from the Ywar empire,” Weinwyr said slyly, grinning slightly when he saw the shock in Sotân's face. “Yeah. The Ywar empire.”

“W-what? You?! A cur?” Sotân stuttered. He glared at the soldier pointing the crossbow at Weinwyr and roared, “Put that damn thing down!”

“W-why, sir?” the soldier asked in confusion. Sotân tore the weapon out of the soldier's hands and hurled it out of the tent. This earned several raised eyebrows from both the soldiers and the prisoners.

“You idiot! We've been looking for the Ywar empire for years!” Sotân hissed, “If this cur is really Ywarian...” The prince forced himself to kneel in front of Weinwyr. “Please! Come with me to the palace! Father will want to meet you.”

“Sir, you can't be serious!” the weaponless soldier exclaimed, but Sotân sprang to his feet abruptly and began to draw his sword.

“Quiet! I am the prince! You will follow my orders when I give them! Now get out of my sight!” he shouted and the soldiers scurried out of the tent in a hurry. The prince sheathed his sword and stared at Weinwyr, still processing the information. “On your feet.” Sotân rapped his forehead and said, “My apologies. I should not act so rude in front of a Ywarian.” He offered a hand to a very confused Weinwyr and the teen stood, blinking.

“Um. Yes. That you shouldn't,” Weinwyr said, nodding.

“Please forgive me and my men,” Sotân murmured. He bowed and said, “We are at your disposal. If there's anything you want...”

First the king of Duriâ bows to me and now the prince of Cleddtân! This is really not what I expected, Weinwyr thought exasperatedly. “Er, yes! I'd like my men here released.”

“I don't think... I...” The prince sighed and said, “Of course, sir.” Sotân whistled sharply and a few men hurried in with keys to the prisoner's shackles. The iron shackles clanked as they hit the ground. Each prisoner rubbed their wrists gratefully. Selŵr muttered a string of curses in the morlau tongue.

“Please find them comfortable beds, too,” Weinwyr said, “They deserve a good rest.”

“Right away,” Sotân said, leading the freed men out of the rough tent into a clearing. The small clearing was surrounded by five other tents, all of them much larger than the one they exited. A small yet beautifully decorated tent stood a little ways outside of the circle. “Your men can sleep in this tent,” the prince said, lifting up the entrance flap to reveal rows of cots. “It's the best we have to offer at the moment, sir.”

Weinwyr nodded and asked Dweir, “Think this'll do for the night?”

“Frankly after sleeping on a wrecked boat and in an iron carriage, I'll sleep anywhere,” Dweir replied, grinning. He lead the rest of his men inside while Eirnydd and Selŵr stayed with Weinwyr.

“You should get some rest too, Weinwyr,” Eirnydd said slowly. “Where will you sleep?”

“He can sleep in my tent tonight,” Sotân piped up, “It's the best in the camp.”

Eirnydd narrowed his eyes at the prince and whispered to Weinwyr, “Can you really trust this guy?”

“Well, not completely, but he did free all of us, so that must count for something,” Weinwyr whispered back.

“You stay safe, little Weinwyr,” Selŵr said, patting the teen's shoulder. It nearly toppled him over. The huge morlau lumbered into the tent and tossed himself onto a cot. The cot almost buckled under his weight. After glancing one more time at Weinwyr, Eirnydd made his way inside and found himself a cot to sleep on.

“Please come with me, sir,” Sotân said, leading Weinwyr to his tent.

“You can drop the 'sir' stuff, Sotân,” Weinwyr said, “I'm not a 'sir'. I'm just Weinwyr.”

“Of course! Anything you want.”

“Also no more grovelling. I don't think that's very befitting for a prince.”

Sotân raised an eyebrow and stopped walking. “Then how am I supposed to act? I cannot possibly give you orders or treat you like some ordinary soldier,” he said uncertainly.

“How about we start over? Maybe we can act like friends more than anything,” Weinwyr beamed. He held out his hand for the prince to shake. “Hello. I'm Weinwyr from the Ywar empire, raised in Goedwren.”

“Er... um... right.” Sotân took a deep breath, smiled kindly (for once), and shook Weinwyr's hand. “I am Sotân, the prince of Cleddtân. It's good to meet you, Weinwyr.”

“There. Was that so hard?” Weinwyr laughed.

“I suppose not,” Sotân chuckled, crossing his arms. “Can I ask why you're in Cleddtân?”

“Of course you can. I want to do everything in my power to stop this war between you and Duriâ,” Weinwyr explained, “It's gone on for too long and it's threatening my family in Goedwren.”

“Stop the war, huh... well I guess that would be good. I mean it would be less work for me to do,” Sotân muttered, scratching his head. “Father would have less to worry about...” He shook his head and said, “But then we'd be surrendering to the Duriâns!”

Weinwyr said, “No, that's not what you'd be doing at all! If your father and Suriâ can come to an agreement on peace, then neither one of you would be losers! In fact, both countries would be winners in a way.”

“You think so?” Sotân asked, voice faltering. He sighed, “I'll take you to my father tomorrow at first light.” He showed Weinwyr inside his tent. It was decorated lavishly. An ornate desk sat next to a comfortable looking bed. A bear's skin rug covered the ground. “You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the ground,” the prince said.

Weinwyr nodded thankfully and laid on the bed. It was absolutely heavenly and Weinwyr felt himself fall asleep almost instantly.

~~~~~~~~

It's that dream again, Weinwyr thought, pacing around the golden field once again. He could not see the sun once again. Weinwyr spotted the dragon on the horizon. Hey! Sir Dragon! Weinwyr started to run towards the dragon, but every step he took seemed to take him farther and farther away. Weinwyr turned around to see the statue of Tân from Ganialwach. Stone crashed together as the statues arms moved to grab Weinwyr. Wait! What are you doing?

YOU ARE A TRESPASSER. YOU MUST BE ELIMINATED, a booming, ear splitting voice echoed throughout Weinwyr's head.

What? A trespasser? This is my head! You're the one who's trespassing!

LEAVE. Tân clapped his stony hands together, trapping Weinwyr in his fingers. The teen squirmed to no avail. The statues hands were getting hotter and hotter. Fire creeped through the cracks in the stone.

Weinwyr shouted in terror as he rolled out of Sotân's bed. He collapsed on his back and startled the prince awake. “Huh what?” Sotân snorted. He blinked sleepily at Weinwyr. “What are you doing down here?”

“Sorry. Bad dream,” Weinwyr muttered, getting up and rubbing his aching back. What was that about? Tân was there... why was I a trespasser? That was my dream! His hands felt like they were on fire. He cringed when he looked at them. His palms were burned. “Dammit...!”

“You all right?” Sotân asked. He forced himself to get up and examined Weinwyr's hands. “Ow. That must hurt. Don't worry about it, though. It happens to most fire Casters when they first start out. You should have seen my hands...”

“You're a Caster, too?” Weinwyr asked.

“Yeah. I'm not the best, but I can use it if I'm in a fix,” Sotân replied, “Follow me. We'll take you to our doctor before you see my father.” He lead Weinwyr outside where the other soldiers were taking down the tents. “They're being relocated,” the prince explained to Weinwyr. Weinwyr noticed Eirnydd, Selŵr, and the other Duriâns were assisting the soldiers. The Cleddtânians looked sour, but weren't complaining about the extra help. Sotân and Weinwyr entered a white canvas tent.

A short, middle aged man with close cut brown hair shuffled around the tent, packing medical supplies and muttering to himself. He had some peculiar object on his face that Weinwyr had never seen before; it looked like a thin metal was wrapped around two glass ovals that perched on the bridge of his nose. The short man spotted Sotân and bowed. “My prince! To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked.

“My friend Weinwyr here requires your assistance,” Sotân said, gesturing to Weinwyr. Weinwyr showed the doctor his burnt hands.

“Ah, yes. Tried to cast some fire magic, eh?” the doctor chuckled, pulling up his seat and pushing the metal glass thing up to the top of his nose. He sat on one side of a little table and offered Weinwyr the other seat. The silver haired teen took the seat, holding out his hands. The doctor examined them closely. “It appears you've only suffered first degree burns. Don't worry. You're hands will hurt for a while, but they should heal quickly.”

“That's good,” Weinwyr sighed with relief.

The doctor pulled out a little pot of ointment and said, “This won't hurt a bit.” He gently put some of the gunk on Weinwyr's hands. Weinwyr wanted to scream, but he gritted his teeth.

“I thought you said that wouldn't hurt,” grumbled Weinwyr as the doctor wrapped his hands in bandages.

“I lied. Don't you know that doctors always lie?” the man chuckled. He tied the ends of the bandages and said, “That should work for now.” He took out a little vial of the ointment and handed it to Weinwyr. “Be sure to change the bandages in two or three days and put more of that ointment on your palms. The burns should heal within a week.” He caught Weinwyr's curious glance and asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“Sorry... but what are those things on your face?” Weinwyr asked. He pointed to the metal glass thing. The doctor laughed.

“These? They're spectacles! I've got bad eyesight so I wear these to see clearly,” the doctor said amusedly, “Have you never seen these before?”

“No. I live in Goedwren and we don't have anything like that.”

“Goedwren, eh? That would make sense. You can only get these in Cleddtân as far as I know.” The doctor stood and continued to pack up his supplies. He stopped momentarily and asked, “I don't think I caught your name. What is it?”

“It's Weinwyr, sir,” Weinwyr said, pocketing the vial of ointment.

“I am called Chiamyn,” the doctor said. He stacked a box on top of a barrel and held out his hand for Weinwyr to shake, then mumbled, “Oh wait... hands...”

Weinwyr chuckled and said, “Don't worry about it. Thank you for all your help, Chiamyn.”

“Anytime,” Chiamyn said. He waved as Weinwyr and Sotân exited the tent. Two soldiers stood outside the tent with two horses. One was armoured and decorated for Sotân and the other was Weinwyr's captured horse. Without a word, Sotân hopped into the saddle and Weinwyr clambered onto his horse.

“Stay close to me at all times,” the prince said, kicking his horse into a trot. Weinwyr did the same and the two were off into the centre of Tanier. Tanier was a bustling city with towering stone buildings and narrow streets. Weinwyr thought Ganialwach's streets were narrow; he wasn't even sure he could walk down a street, much less walk down it on a horse. Somehow, though, Sotân lead Weinwyr through the streets quickly. Soon they crossed a bridge that spanned over an entire neighbourhood. A huge granite wall separated the lower class part of the city from the upper class one. Two heavily armoured guards stood outside the gate and they stood aside when they saw the prince approach.

“Good day, prince Sotân,” one of them said, saluting.

The prince saluted back and said, “This one is with me.” The guard nodded and Weinwyr and Sotân entered the upper part of the city. The citadel sat on top of a gentle hill. It overlooked all of Tanier and the ocean to the south. The two rode up the granite road up to the doors of the citadel. They dismounted and Sotân lead Weinwyr up the steps to the doors.

Weinwyr put a hand on one of the great doors. “It's walnut,” he murmured to himself.

“What? How can you tell?” Sotân asked incredulously.

“I grew up in Goedwren. I think I know a type of wood when I see it,” Weinwyr laughed. He looked at the door nostalgically. I wonder when I'll be able to go home... he thought longingly as he helped Sotân open the doors. A long, dark red, gold, and brown carpet lead inside to a great hall. At the end of the carpet, upon the throne, sat Artân.

13: Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“Sotân,” the king said icily, “who is this… cur?” He glared at Weinwyr with fierce brown eyes. Disdain clearly showed in his face when his gaze shifted to his son. “Why have you brought him here? This is a place of royalty, not a place for dogs.” Artân was dressed in a similar fashion to Sotân, only much more armoured and coloured. He had jet black hair and a small beard covering his sharp jaw and chin.

Weinwyr clenched his jaw. He’d had about enough of royalty calling him a dog or a cur, but he kept quiet. He knew he wouldn’t have another chance to talk to Artân face to face. Sotân walked up to the throne and kneeled.

“Father, this is Weinwyr,” the prince said, gesturing for Weinwyr to come closer and kneel as well. “He’s from the Ywar Empire. I thought he might be able to help us…” Artân slammed his halberd on the stone floor, sparks flying from the ground. The crack of noise echoed through out the solemn hall. The king rose, pointing the long axe at Sotân.

“We do not speak about the Ywar Empire in this hall. You were a fool for bringing him here,” Artân growled throatily.

“But, father…” Sotân started, but the king gave him a glare that shut him up.

Weinwyr glanced at Sotân. The prince looked ready to give up. Weinwyr shook his head, rose to his feet, and said, “O King Artân! I have travelled far and have nearly died several times trying to meet you today. The least you can do is explain to me what the Ywar Empire has done to you! Maybe I can help!”

“Ha!” the king laughed as he sat at his throne once again. “What can a Ywarian cur like you do to help Cleddtân? Do you even know where their empire is?”

“Well, no, but how hard can it be to find it? I’ve been attacked by bandits, stranded in the ocean, and come face to face the rulers of Duriâ and Lafnŵr. I think I can help find an empire,” Weinwyr reasoned.

“You’ve spoken with Suriâ?” Artân asked, suddenly interested, “He’s still ruling?”

“Er, yes,” Weinwyr replied.

“I haven’t spoken to him in years…” Artân murmured. He stared intently at Weinwyr and asked, “Tell me, boy. Does Suriâ have a plan to find the Ywar Empire? Did he mention anything of the sort when you two spoke?”

At least ‘boy’ is a step up from ‘cur’, Weinwyr thought. He thought back a few weeks to the conversation. He shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think he did. But why are you so interested in finding the Ywar Empire in the first place?”

At first, Artân looked hesitant to impart important information to a young man he wasn’t terribly thrilled about. The king finally sighed and said slowly, “We lost touch with the Ywar Empire after the war began. They’ve become a distant memory to my people, but they are a constant enigma to me.” When Weinwyr and Sotân looked confused and expectant, Artân said:

“Let me start from the beginning.

“One hundred and some odd years ago, my grandfather and Suriâ’s grandfather ruled Cleddtân and Duriâ respectively. Both lands lived in peace, so it is unclear who initiated the war between our nations. There are no records of any event that might have started the war, at least not in Cleddtân.

“Slowly, after the war began, records containing information about the Ywar Empire started to disappear from our libraries. They became nothing more than stories and, eventually, myths. No one but my grandfather and father before him knew about the empire’s existence.”

“Why keep it a secret, father?” Sotân asked. He flinched as if by instinct, expecting his father to yell at him, but the king stayed quiet.

“I suppose it’s because when my father told me, I dismissed it as a rumour, just like the citizens.” Artân rubbed his temples and sighed. “But recently, the Ywar Empire has been on my mind again, ever since I looked at an old map of Cleddtân. I was told my land expanded past the Llosfyn mountains. But, I noticed everything beyond the mountains is missing.”

“Missing?” Weinwyr asked incredulously.

The king nodded slowly and said, “It’s as if the map was torn.” Artân snapped his fingers loudly and a servant scurried up to the throne. “Bring me the map,” he ordered.

“Yes, your majesty,” the servant murmured quickly, vanishing down a staircase. The servant reappeared almost as quickly as he left. An old parchment sat rolled up on top of a velvet cushion. The king pointed a ringed finger at the prince and his guest. The servant bowed before Sotân and offered him the map. Sotân unrolled it carefully, showing it to Weinwyr. The two gasped.

A large portion of the left side of the map was torn away. The tear was aged considerably, but they could tell it was a deliberate action. “Who could have done this? Why would they do this?” Sotân asked.

“What if… what if someone wanted to erase the Ywar Empire from the records? Like it never existed?” Weinwyr proposed.

“But why?” the king interjected with annoyance. He strode gracefully down to Sotân and Weinwyr to look at the map with them. “Potentially half of my country is on the other side of the mountains and it does not have my guidance. It has been forgotten by the rest of the people.”

“Can’t you just cross over the mountains? Isn’t there a road?” Weinwyr asked.

“There was once a road if I remember,” the king answered, scratching his at his beard, “But it has been long since forgotten. There may be something in the catacombs of the palace… something still left over from before the war.”

“Catacombs?” Eh, sounds creepy. But after everything I’ve been through, if there’s anything I can find there about the Ywar Empire… then surely I have to try to look! Weinwyr thought. “Where can I get to these catacombs, sir?”

“There’s a secret entrance in the palace. But you must go alone,” Artân said, crossing his arms and glaring at Sotân when he tried to protest. “I need to know that I can trust you with this information. You must make it out unscathed with the information we need.”

“All right,” Weinwyr said. He asked, “What’s that look for, sir?” when Artân raised an eyebrow.

“Normally, someone would demand something in return. Is there nothing you want?” Artân asked.

Weinwyr looked at the floor momentarily, and then looked the king straight in the eyes and said, “The only thing I could ask for is an end to this war. It’s gone on long enough.”

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do,” Artân said briefly. He snapped his fingers again and the servant appeared to take the map away. “Once you’re done with that, find our guest a room in the palace. I want to make sure he is at least rested before he ventures in the catacombs.”

“Of course, sir,” the servant said, disappearing and reappearing momentarily. He bowed before Sotân and Weinwyr once more and said, “This way, honoured guest.” Weinwyr followed the servant closely, Sotân following Weinwyr.

The two were lead through the complex hallways to a large, ornamented room with a four-poster bed in the corner. The window overlooked the sprawling city of Tanier. A simply built yet heavily ornamented desk sat in front of the window. The floor was finely carpeted with dragons and warriors embroidered into it. Overall, it was definitely a room of royalty. Weinwyr thought his room in the Duriân estate was over the top. “I do hope you enjoy your stay, most honoured guest,” the servant said, vanishing into the halls.

Sotân pulled up the chair next to the desk and sat on it heavily. “Oh, brother… I thought that would go so horribly wrong…” he sighs with relief. Weinwyr tossed himself on the bed and muttered into the pillow:

“I thought I was gonna get cut in half.”

“My dad’s kind of a jerk, but not a barbarian,” Sotân said, amusement in his voice. He folded his hands and asked, “But how did you manage to get him to tell you that stuff? He just barely told me, and that was after a few pints of beer.”

“Eh? I don’t know… I guess I’m just super charismatic or something.” Weinwyr sat up and stretched. He suddenly remembered:

“Oh yeah! Hey, what about Eirnydd and Dweir and Selŵr and the others? Will they get housing here too?”

“Probably not,” Sotân admitted after a moment, “But I can find them an inn in the city near to the palace.” He got up and when Weinwyr moved to get up too, he gestured for him to stay. “You can stay here for the time being. Tour the palace. Have some Cleddtânian beer. Just be sure to stay out of father’s room and study.” He exited the room, leaving Weinwyr to explore the palace. He never ended up leaving his room and fell asleep, relieved from the stress of speaking with the firy king.

14: Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Weinwyr awoke in the evening, almost forgetting that he was in the Cleddtânian palace. A sharp knock on the door sounded throughout the room, so Weinwyr called, “Come in!”

Sotân entered and said, “I managed to find a decent inn for your friends. I also retrieved everything confiscated from your ship.” He handed Weinwyr his bag and sword. “The man called Dweir told me these were yours.”

“They are. Thanks,” Weinwyr said, grinning as he saw everything was still in his bag: his clothes, his belt, his machete, and Medren’s knife she’d gifted him. It seemed so long ago when Weinwyr parted with his family. “I’ll probably need these if I’m going to the catacombs tonight.”

“Wait, wait, tonight? You sure you don’t want to wait a little?” Sotân asked incredulously, “I mean, you did just get here.”

“I feel like I’m obligated to do this as soon as possible, and since I feel fine and since I have something to defend myself, I’m going to go soon,” Weinwyr said, “Now, I think I’ll change. Cleddtânian clothing isn’t particularly to my liking.”

“All right,” Sotân said after a moment, “I’ll inform father that you will be needing to enter the catacombs tonight.” He bowed instinctively as he left Weinwyr to change. Weinwyr was extremely happy to be back in his own comfortable clothes, particularly with no shoes. He tucked Medren’s knife into his belt and slung his sword over his shoulder. Weinwyr finally hoisted his empty bag over his shoulders, ready to go.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Okay… not gonna die here, but let’s just think about this. What could be possibly be down there in the catacombs? Rats and skeletons, maybe. He shuddered. Ugh. Please be anything but rats. He exited his room and walked back to the throne room where Artân and Sotân stood waiting.

The prince handed Weinwyr a small package wrapped in cloth and said, “That’s some food for you. It should last you a while down there.” He then gave Weinwyr a water skin. Weinwyr thanked him and carefully placed the items in his bag, slinging it back over his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to go now?” Artân asked, a small amount of concern showing in his eyes. “Not even I know how dangerous the catacombs are.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. After all, I’ve made it this far, right?” Weinwyr said. He did his best to sound optimistic. Artân nodded solemnly.

“Very well. Please follow me.” The king lead Sotân and Weinwyr down a spiral staircase behind the throne. A servant followed behind them diligently, carrying a small, unlit torch. They passed the kitchen and the wine cellars before they reached a small, dimly lit room. It wasn’t a very interesting room in general, but in the centre of the floor was golden circle. On the golden circle were engravings of dragons and other mythical beasts of old circling the firy god Tân, who, like statue in Ganialwach, had a fearsome snarl plastered on his face.

Artân handed his halberd to the servant silently. He gestured for Weinwyr and Sotân to stand back. The two young men did so, and Artân raised his hands to the ceiling. Two balls of fire lit in his palms, illuminating the entire room. He thrust the two fireballs into the golden circle. Weinwyr thought the heat of the fire would melt the gold, but instead the fire travelled through the carving. Soon the engraving was completely lit and a small ‘click’ resounded in the room. The gold circle depressed into the ground and slid neatly out of the way, revealing a dark staircase.

The king turned to Weinwyr and said, “The way is now open. Please proceed with caution.” He bowed slightly and moved out of the way for Weinwyr.

“Th-thank you sir,” Weinwyr stuttered. The servant handed Weinwyr the torch and said slowly:

“Good luck, most honoured guest.”

“Thanks,” said Weinwyr, descending into the darkness of the catacombs. He heard the golden circle slide back into place and click shut. The whole stairway was pitch black. Weinwyr could hardly see his own hands let alone the stairs. He snapped his fingers, cringing a little given his hands were still burnt. Despite his pain, a small flame lit up at the end of his fingertips.

“That’s comforting to know I can use fire without burning myself,” Weinwyr whispered to himself. He held the torch over the little fire for a moment before the end of the torch was completely lit. The light shined brightly, and Weinwyr could see the stairs under his feet. He proceeded down, down, down the staircase until he came to a widened tunnel.

Every inch of the tunnel was covered in grime. The tunnel walls, much to Weinwyrs dismay, were lined with skulls and skeletons galore. Each complete skeleton had it’s own little grave set into the wall, while the skulls and assortments of other bones were either built into the wall or scattered about on the ground. Weinwyr gulped. Great. The bones I can handle. Maybe. But please let there not be any rats down here… he thought, carefully making his way through the sea of bones.

The further he proceeded, the more bones he had to try and step over. Soon, the bones weren’t only human. Birds, mice, dogs, and cats… Weinwyr even thought he saw a horse or a deer skull. The little bones crunched under his feet. J-just think of twigs… that’s all you’re stepping on… just like back home… Weinwyr thought, trying to reassure himself as he grimaced. The silence seemed to be eternal, breaking only as Weinwyr walked.

Suddenly, Weinwyr heard something scurrying next to him. He drew his sword quickly and out of fear, waving his torch next to him. A small rat hissed at him, glaring at the boy with gleaming red eyes. “Ugh!” Weinwyr exclaimed, backing away from the rat, only ending up stepping on another. The rat shrieked and bolted away with its little friend.

“Oh, by the gods…” Weinwyr shuddered, “I hate rats… I hope there aren’t any more down here… wouldn’t that be nice.” He continued on, stopping when he heard a rumbling noise ahead of him. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. He held the torch up higher, trying to illuminate the path ahead of him.

His eyes widened in horror when he saw a steady stream of abnormally large rats charging towards him. He could see their crooked, sharp yellow teeth and fury in their red eyes. Weinwyr looked left and right frantically; there was no place to go on his left, but there was a small entrance to a side tunnel branching off form the main one. Anything could be better than being devoured by rats, so Weinwyr darted towards the side tunnel, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Some of the large rats pursued, snapping at his heels.

“Why do I always speak to soon?!” Weinwyr cursed, urging himself to run faster. The rats were closing in. Weinwyr waved the torch behind him, hoping the fire would keep the ravenous rats at bay. The smaller ones backed off, but the larger ones kept charging. Weinwyr looked ahead and was forced to stop; a wall of skulls kept him from going any further.

One of the rats leapt onto Weinwyr’s back, clawing and biting. The young man first tried to grab the rat by the neck, but it scratched at his hand. Weinwyr pummeled the rat with the torch and it collapsed onto the ground, shrieking. As another rat could leap at Weinwyr, he drew his sword Bramellt. The blade flashed like lightning as it cut the rat down.

“Stay back!” Weinwyr shouted, pointing the bloodied sword and torch at the now hesitant rats. He eyed the large black creatures carefully. Despite the little amount of light, Weinwyr could count about forty to fifty rats in front of him. He didn’t want to guess how many were beyond his sight. Seeing that the huge rats were no longer advancing and eyeing the human’s sword, Weinwyr said slowly, “Good. It seems you have some intelligence. You saw what I did you your friends, now leave me alone!”

The rats hissed collectively, echoing throughout the tunnel. Weinwyr glanced to his left and right once more; there didn’t seem to be any other place to go except back the way he came, and he knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I don’t think I can fight all of them… but there isn’t any other way to go! Weinwyr thought. A rat advanced towards him slowly, but shirked away when Weinwyr jabbed the torch in its direction.

The swarm of rats seemed to know that Weinwyr couldn’t take all of them, so each one began to scurry closer and closer.

“No! Stay away!” Weinwyr growled, waving the flame in front of him. The rat’s eyes gleamed as they let out a screech and rushed towards Weinwyr, teeth bared. Weinwyr cried out and attacked back, managing to cut down the filthy creatures. But it wasn’t long before he was feeling overrun. Rats were everywhere, biting and clawing at any exposed skin. He felt as if his wounds were on fire.

Time seemed to slow down. It’s happening again… Weinwyr thought, this is exactly how I felt when I thought Golldrus was going to kill me. I’m not… I’m not going to die here! His sword arm felt electrified. The blade crackled with energy. His torch arm felt as if it were on fire. The torch’s small flame suddenly exploded in a blaze. The still air in the tunnel picked up to a strong gale.

Some of the large black rats were blown back by the sudden wind, and the others stood their ground. They charged again in a final attack. Weinwyr thrust the torch forward and a stream of fire shot out of the blaze, burning away wave after wave of rats. The remaining rat force suffered a worse fate. As they attacked, Weinwyr slashed through the air. While the blade did not physically hit any rats, the lightning generated from the sword struck the hearts of the black creatures.

Soon the narrow tunnel smelled of burnt flesh and blood. The fire, lightning, and wind had died down. The tunnel was silent other than Weinwyr’s panting. He staggered backwards as he took everything in. He felt something depress under his foot. He figured it was a rat’s body, but suddenly he felt the ground give way beneath his feet. Weinwyr slid down a steep, smooth tunnel, shouting all the way. The tunnel seemed to go on forever until it dumped Weinwyr into a octagonal stone room. He dropped his sword and torch. Weinwyr rolled a few feet away from his weapon and laid on the ground, still.

 

 

15: Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I’m home? Weinwyr stood outside his home in Farthia. The house, the wood shop, the little coral where his parents kept a few cows and pigs, the forest stretching beyond the house, it was all there. Weinwyr blinked. This can’t be right. I was in the catacombs under Tanier.

A loud explosion in the distance suddenly interrupted the peaceful scene. Weinwyr whirled around on his heels to see that the town centre was on fire. His eyes widened with horror. What the hell is going on?! he thought frantically as he ran. Smoke furled about him and the flames licked at his skin. The air was filled with the screams of his people. Weinwyr’s looked to the ground where he saw Medren gazing up at him. Tears and terror filled her now cloudy brown eyes.

“How could you do this?” she cried, “After all we’ve done for you?”

What?! What is she talking about? Weinwyr tried to speak, but his throat felt as if it had been cemented shut. His arms began moving on their own. He saw that he was holding a long, strange looking spear. It almost looked like a gust of wind worked it’s way into the metal. His arms were raised over his head, almost as if someone were pulling strings tied to his arms. He looked side to side desperately. No one was around him except for a tall, hooded man. Weinwyr couldn’t see any of his features, except for a glimpse of silver hair.

The man snapped his fingers. No! Stop! Weinwyr screamed mentally as he thrust his arms down.

~~~~~~~

Weinwyr gasped as he awoke. He was still in the octagonal room in the catacombs. His whole body ached and his muscles were on fire as he stood. He rubbed his head and groaned, “Damn… how long was I out?” The torch’s light was ebbing away slowly. “A long time, I suppose,” Weinwyr concluded. He sheathed his sword and stomped the fire on the torch out. It had burned down so low that Weinwyr couldn’t even hold the torch, so he figured he’d be better off without it. The room had a faint glow to it anyhow. He dug through his bag and found some bandages he’d brought from home. He carefully wrapped up his wounds.

“Now then… how do I get out of here? Hopefully not with another slide,” Weinwyr grumbled. He ran his hands along the walls. Surely there had to be a switch or something. Alas, he found nothing. No levers, no buttons, no carvings, nothing. He paced across the floor, muttering to himself.

“Ahh, dammit. I hope I’m not trapped in here...” he mumbled. His stomach growled loudly, so he sat down and pulled out the little bag of food Sotân had given him. There were several strips of meat and a substantial amount of dried fruit. Weinwyr slowly chewed at the meat, contemplating how he would escape from the room. The image of Medren dying by his hands kept flashing before his eyes. He shook his head.

“That didn’t happen. It was a dream,” Weinwyr told himself firmly, lightly slapping his cheeks. “You have to focus. You have to get out of here and get any information you can back to Artân.” He stashed his food and took a drink from the water skin. He nearly choked on the bitter liquid.

“W-what the hell?” he sputtered, “This isn’t water at all…” He cupped a hand and poured some of the liquid into his hand. It was a dark golden brown colour. “I can’t believe this… Sotân gave me a water skin full of beer?” He sighed and growled, “When I get out of here, I swear I’m gonna punch him.” He corked the water skin and tossed it back into his bag then slung his bag over his shoulder.

He did another sweep of the walls, feeling every inch of the stone. Again, he came up with nothing. He rubbed his chin and took up pacing across the floor. As he focused, Weinwyr noticed the subtle ridges and depressions in the floor with his feet. It must be like that gold circle up at the palace, he thought, kneeling down and running his fingers across the floor. He found the outside edge of engraving.

“Well let’s give this a shot,” he murmured. He raised his hands to the ceiling and concentrated on making fire. Two small balls of fire lit above his palms. He gently set the fires into the engraving. The carving lit slowly, and soon Weinwyr saw that the carving formed a fire-breathing dragon. The engraving depressed into the floor and slid out of the way. The noise was grinding and unpleasant. A new staircase descended gently into a dimly lit hallway.

“Here goes nothing,” Weinwyr said. He made it down a few steps when the stone slab grinded back into place. The sound was worse in the hallway and it reverberated through Weinwyr’s bones. “Ugh…” he grumbled, rubbing his ears, “As if I wasn’t suffering enough.”

Weinwyr travelled down the stairs, thankful that he could see the steps this time around. He didn’t have to travel far; the stairs ended and opened up to a brightly lit, extremely clean corridor. There were still skulls everywhere, much to Weinwyr’s distaste, but they were only used as decoration, arcing and flowing around arches and columns. Still spooky, Weinwyr thought, shuddering.

There was only one direction for Weinwyr to go, so he briskly walked down the corridor. The passageway led into a great hall. Columns spiraled from the floor to the ceiling. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls were lined up neatly throughout the hall. Weinwyr’s face lit up with delight. “Yes! There are records down here!” he laughed, charging into the isles of information. He tore through the scrolls and books, looking for maps or pictures since he couldn’t read.

Hours passed, but Weinwyr couldn’t seem to find anything about the Ywar Empire. He must have searched through nearly every scroll, except the ones with a lot of words. He managed to find a few maps, but, like the one Artân had, the section beyond the mountains was missing. He sat against the far wall and sighed. “Nothing,” Weinwyr mumbled, “All that blood, sweat, and tears for nothing. Dammit…” He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “Well I can’t go back empty handed.” He stood and meandered through the isles once again, picking up scrolls and carefully putting them in his bag.

Weinwyr made his way to the back of the great hall, gazing at the ancient tapestries on the wall. The old threads depicted the height of the Cleddtânian empire: crops flourished, people drank beer jovially, and horses thundered across the green plains. Weinwyr found it hard to believe that Cleddtân was green at some point. The mountains loomed ever still on the tapestry, but there was nothing beyond them.

However, upon closer inspection, Weinwyr saw that the tapestry had not been torn in any way; it had merely been folded over. The young man carefully reached up and meticulously took the tapestry down, taking very much care not to tear the delicate threads. He unfolded the tapestry and blew off the dust. He grinned widely.

Beyond the mountains was an entirely different sprawling country. The maker had laboriously sewn in huge gusts of wind blowing over the land. In the northern part of the country sat a towering castle that stretched into the clouds. “That has to be the Ywar Empire!” Weinwyr exclaimed, “It’s right there! I guess the blood, sweat, and tears were worth it!” He chuckled to himself while he delicately folded the tapestry. Fortunately it fit into his bag.

“Now then… gotta find a way out of here,” Weinwyr said, scratching his head. The hall seemed to not have any entrances or exits. After he’d walked around examining every inch of the room once again, he knocked against one of the columns. An echo reverberated throughout the hall. “Oho~” Weinwyr smirked, “That’s promising.” He pushed against the column with all his strength and the stone gave way into a narrow tunnel leading straight up into darkness. A slowly rusting iron ladder led up the tunnel.

Weinwyr began the climb. The ladder creaked as he climbed, but seemed to be sturdy enough. He felt like he was climbing for eternity until he bumped his head on something hard. He placed his hand on the hard thing while holding onto the ladder. The hard thing was cold to the touch. Must be a sewer cover or something, Weinwyr thought. He pushed up on the metal plate and light filtered down into the dark tunnel. He climbed out, blinking to adjust his eyes to the sunlight. No one seemed to be around in the alleyway Weinwyr crawled into, so the young man carefully put the sewer cover back.

He faced north, looked at his shadow, and said, “It must be a little after midday. Good gods, I was down there a long time.” He lightly slapped his cheeks and said, “But now is no time to be resting! I have to find my way back to the palace!” He jogged through the streets, his eyes darting to and fro to find any sign of the granite wall or the palace. He eventually spotted the large wall and ran to find the entrance he came in through the day before. Before he could run through, one of the heavily armoured guards snapped:

“Halt! Who goes there?” He and the other guard blocked Weinwyr’s path by crossing their spears.

“M-my name is Weinwyr and I was with the prince yesterday!” Weinwyr panted. The guards looked at each other.

“The prince returned to the palace two days ago,” one of them said, “but now that I look at you…” The guard leaned in closer to Weinwyr, examining the grimy, bandaged young man. “You do look familiar.”

“Yes! I was the guy that came in with the prince two days ago! You can even go up to the palace and ask him!” Weinwyr said breathlessly.

The guards whispered amongst each other. The other guard trekked up to the palace while the guard who recognised Weinwyr said, “All right. I’ll stay here with you while he fetches the prince.” Weinwyr nodded and the two stayed silent until the other guard returned with the prince.

“Weinwyr!” Sotân exclaimed, rushing to the silver haired teen, “Thank the gods you’re all right!” He looked over Weinwyr and said, “What happened down there?”

Weinwyr pulled out the water skin full of beer and threw it at Sotân. “So what in the hell were you thinking giving me that?” Weinwyr asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“What do you mean?” Sotân asked. He opened the water skin and sniffed at it. “Oh? What’s this? Beer?”

“Don’t you give me that,” Weinwyr snapped, “What’s the big idea giving me that instead of water?”

“I don’t know how that happened,” Sotân said honestly. He corked the water skin and handed it to the guard. “Really, Weinwyr. I swear on my honour that I gave you water.”

“Well…” Weinwyr sighed and said, “All right. I guess I believe you.”

“Anyway, Weinwyr, you must show father what you found! And I’ll call Chiamyn to take care of your wounds. Come on!”

16: Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Artân had the long dining table cleared of everything so Weinwyr could unfold the tapestry. He and Sotân examined it closely while Chiamyn sat with Weinwyr, dabbing a cloth covered with a healing salve over Weinwyr’s wounds.

“You’re lucky you’re so healthy,” Chiamyn said, “You could have run a risk of infection with all of these bites. But from what I can see you’re in the clear. You’d best come talk to me straight away if you feel ill.”

“Got it. Thanks, Chiamyn. Sorry you had to be called all the way here,” Weinwyr apologised.

“Don’t worry yourself over it. I’d much rather be in the palace than on the battlefield,” Chiamyn chuckled. He wrapped Weinwyr’s wounds with a clean bandage then washed his hands in a basin he’d set on another chair. Eventually the doctor left, saluting to the king and prince.

Weinwyr stood and strode over to the table with the king and prince. “Find anything useful?” he asked.

“Oh yeah. It’s got the road, the other half of the country, everything! You’ve done Cleddtân well, Weinwyr,” Sotân beamed, “With this, we’ll be able to find the Ywar Empire for sure!”

“Yes, thank you Weinwyr. I will be able to find the rest of my country and bring it back into my empire.” He bowed to the silver haired teen and said, “My sincerest thanks.”

“O-oh! Please don’t worry about it! I just felt like it was the right thing to do,” Weinwyr said, waving his hands in front of his face, “Plus I mean, I need to find them, too, for my own personal reasons.”

“I understand,” Artân said. He called for one of his servants and when they appeared, he said, “Send a message to the king of Duriâ. Tell him I’d like to speak with him in person about ending this war.” The servant bowed and shuffled off.

Weinwyr’s face lit up. “Sir! Y-you’re really considering ending the war?” he asked.

“Yes, Weinwyr. You’ve done my country a great service by bringing this tapestry. This war for Cleddtân has mainly been about expansion,” Artân explained, “You’ve seen how desolate the desert is. I suppose Duriâ’s fertile fields and Goedwren’s supply of wood was too tempting and I apologise. I will do anything in my power to make things right.”

Before Weinwyr could thank Artân profusely, a tall, slender man strode in. He wore a long orange, embroidered robe over his armour. His face was very sharp looking and his eyes were a stony grey. The man’s hair was black. “Ah, Disrig!” Artân said. He gestured to the tall man and told Weinwyr, “This is Disrig, Weinwyr. He’s my most trusted advisor.”

Disrig bowed to Weinwyr promptly and said, “King Artân. I have some urgent matters to discuss with you.”

“Now just a minute, Disrig,” Artân said. He waved his hand to the tapestry and said, “We’ve made a monumental discovery on the location of the Ywar Empire and the rest of my country! We need to address this now more than anything.”

Disrig’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “Sir, I insist.” Weinwyr examined the advisor. He seemed very tense under his guise of being calm. Something was off about him.

“Very well,” Artân said, “But after this, we have to start mobilizing our men to head through the mountains to the west.” As the two men were about to head off to a private room, a guard burst into the dining room and shouted:

“Two of the royal guards have been murdered, King Artân!”

“What?!” Artân boomed. Disrig grabbed the king’s arm and held it firmly behind his back. Artân was immobilized. “What are you doing, Disrig?!”

“I apologise, sir, but you cannot find the Ywar Empire!” Disrig smirked. He drew a knife and held it to Artân’s throat. As Weinwyr, Sotân, and the guard advanced, he snapped, “Stay where you are! One wrong move and the king dies!”

“Why, Disrig?!” Sotân cried, “You’ve been loyal to our family for years! Why now?”

Disrig pulled back on his jet-black hair with his knife hand. The wig fell to the ground and his close-cropped silver hair was revealed. He held the knife back to the king’s throat and said, “I was never loyal to your family. I’ve been here to make sure you fools never found out about the Ywar Empire. I’ve been here on the Ywar’s behalf to control Cleddtân. It was going so well until you started poking your nose in places it shouldn’t be!”

“Control Cleddtân?” Artân growled, “Why?!”

“Why would the Ywar Empire sully their hands with war?” Disrig asked nastily, “It’s much easier to pit the two inferior empires against each other and have them destroy one another. Then all we would have to do is come in and reunite the lands under Ywarian rule. The foolish people would gladly accept our rule!”

“They would never accept you!” Weinwyr shouted angrily, balling his fists.

“Oh? Wouldn’t they? Peasants flock to the men with the most power. They would gladly accept us! Here’s to prove it!”  Disrig plunged the knife into Artân’s back. The king gasped and fell forward, his crown rolling across the floor. Sotân screamed in fury and charged towards Disrig, drawing his sword. Disrig had a sword at his side so he drew it and blocked the prince’s blow. Sparks flew from the impact.

“Get the other guards!” Weinwyr shouted to the dumbfounded guard. The guard snapped to attention and darted off. Weinwyr drew his sword and charged toward Disrig. Two more men emerged from either side of the dining room. One of them tackled Weinwyr to the ground and the other raised a club over his head. Weinwyr kicked the man who tackled him off and blocked the club. He shoved the heavy club back and scrambled to his feet. His head had hit the ground so his ears were ringing. He could just barely hear Sotân and Disrig exchanging blows.

“You aren’t going to leave here alive!” the man with the club hissed. The other man stood, rubbing his jaw and drawing his knife. Weinwyr glared at the two men and used his free hand to draw up some sparks of lightning.

“You really don’t want to mess with me,” Weinwyr growled, the lightning sparks growing steadily bigger. The two men charged at the young man anyway, so Weinwyr shot a sizable amount of electricity at the two of them. Lightning coursed through them and they crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Weinwyr turned back to the prince who was beaten into submission. A long gash crossed his cheek and his sword arm was wounded.

Disrig was about to deal the final blow when Weinwyr’s blade struck his. Weinwyr cracked his fingers and the lightning returned, crackling with energy. “Stand down, Disrig,” he growled.

“Never!” Disrig shouted. A huge gust of wind picked up behind him and nearly knocked Weinwyr off his feet. Weinwyr quickly switched from lightning magic to wind almost instantaneously. The two gales clashed as Weinwyr and Disrig clashed swords. They appeared to be evenly matched.

Disrig finally shoved Weinwyr away and the winds died. “Hmph. You’re strong, brat.” He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why are you fighting for them? Why not be on the stronger side?”

“Because,” Weinwyr said fiercely, “This land is my home. What has the Ywar Empire ever done for me? All it’s done is cause grief and pain for the past hundred years!”

“Sacrifices have to be made if we are to build the perfect empire,” Disrig smirked. He inched towards one of the long windows in the dining room and said, “I do hope you come to your senses, Prince Weinwyr of the Ywar Empire.” The wind picked up and Disrig rode away on it. He flew out the window and soon out of sight.

Weinwyr stood motionless, eyes wide. Prince? Of the Ywar Empire? No… that can’t be… He was brought back to his senses when he remembered the dying king. He rushed to Artân’s side and said frantically, “Sir, everything will be fine. We’ll call Chiamyn back here and you’ll be just fine.” Sotân had crawled over to his father, tears in his eyes.

“No… don’t bother… I’m done for…” Artân choked out. He coughed, spitting up blood. He looked at his son remorsefully and rasped, “I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry…” With that, he took his final breath. Sotân sobbed silently by his father’s side and Weinwyr shut the king’s eyes.

“Sotân… I’m so sorry,” Weinwyr said softly. He clenched his sword and said, “I swear I’ll find Disrig and cut him down.”

“Don’t,” Sotân spluttered, glaring at Weinwyr, “Don’t become a killer like him.” The prince stood and picked up the golden crown. He placed it on his head and said, “If anything, bring him before me. I’ll see that he rots Waedtân.” The guards finally entered and stopped before the new king. “Prepare a funeral service for my father. Inform the people that they will hear from me shortly.” The guards saluted, carefully picked up Artân’s body, dragged away the other two men, and exited the room.

“What are you going to do?” Weinwyr asked, sheathing his sword.

“I’m going to tell the people everything. And I’ll have my words distributed across the whole empire. Everyone will know what the Ywar Empire has done. We will end the war with Duriâ and focus on reuniting Cleddtân,” Sotân said coldly, “Nothing more.”

17: Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Two weeks had passed since Artân’s death. Sotân had addressed his people and mobilized his forces to return to Cleddtân. Soon all the soldiers were back home and an embassy from Duriâ was on its way to visit Tanier. Weinwyr had spent that time with Eirnydd and Selŵr looking for the road through the mountains. Several expeditions through the desert were unsuccessful. On that day, they returned to the palace, once again empty-handed, to find an elegant carriage parked outside. They saw the king of Duriâ himself step out of the carriage with his son and two other men, presumably officers or advisors. The general of the Duriân army, Oerwe, also stepped out. Sotân was there to greet them.

“Good afternoon, King Suriâ,” Sotân said, bowing slightly.

“Thank you, Pr—King Sotân,” Suriâ said, bowing back. The prince of Duriâ, Tyiâ, and the two advisors bowed as well. “I am deeply sorry for your loss, son.”

Sotân nodded and lead the Duriâns inside. Tyiâ caught Weinwyr’s eye and waved to him, grinning slightly. He gave a look that said, ‘Come join us.’ Eirnydd and Selŵr left to go back to their lodgings in town, so Weinwyr joined Sotân and the others.

“Weinwyr,” Suriâ said with a little bit of joy showing in his voice, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’ve been better,” Weinwyr said, bowing. “Trying to find the road to the Ywar Empire has been as fruitless as ever.”

“I’m sure you will find it soon, son,” Suriâ said, patting Weinwyr’s shoulder. They were lead to the conference room. Suriâ, Tyiâ, Weinwyr, Sotân, the generals, and advisors from both sides sat at the table. Weinwyr had never met the general of the Cleddtân before. He was a short man with jet-black hair and sharp brown eyes. His face was covered in scars, particularly the left side of his face. It looked as if something had exploded in his face many years ago. Weinwyr learned his name was Annam.

“Thank you for coming to Cleddtân so quickly,” Sotân said blankly, “I’d like to discuss terms to end this war, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I read the letter you dispatched to us.” Suriâ nodded and asked, “What is it that you’d like?”

“I’d like to open trade between our countries,” Sotân said, folding his hands. “You have food and wood that my country desperately needs.”

“Very well. What can you give us in return?”

“Our mines produce precious gems and ores. They had to be closed due to lack of people to run them, but once my people are fed properly once again, I will issue an order to reopen the mines and we will supply you with stone, ore, and gems. We also have new technologies from Cleddtânian and Gwasmelltian makers alike that we are willing to share.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Suriâ said, nodding and grinning slightly. Both side’s advisors were furiously scribbling down the terms of ending the war. All of the advisors met with each other, muttering amongst themselves as they wrote a final draft of the terms for both kings to sign. They handed the parchment to Sotân first, and he signed it quickly and slightly sloppily with his left hand. His right arm was still injured from the fight with Disrig two weeks ago. The advisors handed the parchment to Suriâ and he signed it elegantly.

As the advisors were pouring wax and stamping the parchment with each country’s seals, Sotân said, “I’m glad we could come to an agreement. This war has gone on for too long.”

“Yes, I agree. I am looking forward to our country’s companionship in the near future,” Suriâ said, bowing again. Sotân bowed back politely. “Now then, about finding the Ywar Empire… it is in Duriâ’s best interest to help find them. My best scouts are at your disposal.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Sotân stammered. He clearly wasn’t expecting that kind of support so soon. “You’re help is greatly appreciated. Weinwyr, have you come any closer to finding that road?” Sotân turned to Weinwyr.

“We thought we found something, but alas, we still haven’t come close to finding the road,” Weinwyr replied, shaking his head. He rubbed his chin and wondered aloud, “I wonder if there’s more to that tapestry I found… there’s gotta be some clue.”

“I wouldn’t know. Anything that’s written in a text that even I can’t read,” Sotân admitted.

“May I see the tapestry?” Suriâ asked, “I may be of some help.” Sotân nodded and lead him and Weinwyr to the study. Tyiâ followed out of instinct. The tapestry was hung up on the wall. Suriâ looked at the text carefully. “This is written in Lovitan,” he finally said.

“Lovitan?” Weinwyr asked, “What kind of language is that?”

“It’s known as the first language. Our language of Genseas, the Lafnŵr language, and the Gwasmelltian tongue are said to have derived from this ancient language. There are only a few people left in the world that can speak Lovitan. I myself know a little bit… let me see…” Suriâ concentrated on reading the words, so he said slowly, “Fire… behind… wall… scroll.”

“Fire behind wall scroll?” Sotân thought aloud, “It wants us to light a fire behind the scroll?”

“That would be my guess,” Weinwyr said. Sotân nodded and worked his way behind the tapestry. He lit a small flame on the tips of his fingers and held it carefully behind the words.

“See anything?” he asked.

“That’s it! It’s so obvious!” Weinwyr cried, looking at the tapestry in awe. The fire shone through the first layer of the tapestry. Under the first layer was a map of the tunnels underneath the palace.

“What’s so obvious?” Sotân asked.

“The road has been under our feet the whole time!” Weinwyr said, “Let me trade places with you!” Weinwyr and Sotân traded spots, and Weinwyr carefully lit up a fire in his palm. Sotân gasped when he saw the tunnels. Weinwyr ducked under the tapestry and said, “Isn’t it great? The road is in the catacombs! Well that isn’t so great cos I’ll have to go back down there, but hey! We know where it is!”

“This is wonderful, Weinwyr! Again you continue to impress me,” Sotân chuckled, punching Weinwyr’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll have Annam rally together some men for the trip right away!” Sotân exited the room, shouting for Annam.

“D’you mind if I help you out, Weinwyr?” Tyiâ asked, grinning. “I’d love to go on a true adventure!”

“Of course!” Weinwyr said, “Please, by all means!”

Tyiâ looked at his father and asked, “May I, father?”

“Yes, my son,” Suriâ said. He smiled softly and continued, “You go out there and help your friends. Make me proud!”

“I will, father!” Tyiâ said excitedly, hugging Suriâ quickly and running outside to the carriage.

Suriâ grinned widely and said to Weinwyr, “You’ve brought us closer together, Weinwyr. I must thank you again.”

“O-oh it’s nothing, sir! Just a normal day in the life of Weinwyr~” the silver haired teen laughed sheepishly. “Save the world, bring families together, you know.”

“Of course, son,” Suriâ laughed. It was a crisp, jovial laugh that made Weinwyr smile wider. The king clapped Weinwyr on the shoulder and exited the study with him. Sotân met up with them and said:

“Weinwyr, I don’t think you’ve met Annam formally yet. Well, here he is. Annam, this is Weinwyr.”

“A pleasure, sir,” Annam said gruffly, offering a scarred hand for Weinwyr to shake. Weinwyr did and Annam said, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sir Sotân. Your reputation precedes you, sir.”

“T-thanks?” Weinwyr blinked as Annam left to mobilise his men.

“He’s a bit on the cold side. Don’t take it personally,” Sotân chuckled. “Anyway, Weinwyr, I’ve made plans for us to leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’d suggest getting some rest while you can.”

“I will. Also, do you mind if I bring along Eirnydd and Selŵr? I’m sure they’d leap at the chance to find the Ywar Empire.”

“Of course! The more the merrier.”

Weinwyr nodded and ran off to the hotel the aforementioned were staying at. He knocked on the doors to their room and asked, “Excuse me? Eirnydd? Selŵr? Are you in there?” Eirnydd answered the door and invited Weinwyr in.

“What brings you back so soon?” he asked. Selŵr was lying on his bed. It creaked under his weight as he turned to look at the skinny human boys.

“No more road finding,” Selŵr grunted.

“No, no, we’ve found the road! It’s underneath Tanier itself! It goes right under the mountains to the edge of Cleddtân!” Weinwyr said excitedly, “I wanted to know if you’d come with us?”

“Yah, I come, little Weinwyr,” Selŵr said, sitting up.

“I’d like to, but I’m afraid I’d be too much of a hindrance with my arm still out of commission,” Eirnydd said, looking at his arm in its splint.

“I understand. Thank you for all your help, Eirnydd,” Weinwyr said, holding out his hand for Eirnydd to shake. The taller young man smiled and pulled Weinwyr into a bear hug.

“Good luck on your journey. May the god Iâ smile upon you,” Eirnydd beamed. Weinwyr grinned back.

“Thanks!” He turned to Selŵr and said, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. We’ll come to get you.” With that, Weinwyr went back to the palace to rest for the journey to the other side of the country.

18: Chapter 18

Chapter 18

At the break of dawn, Weinwyr, Selŵr, Dweir, and Tyiâ left their inn and met up with Sotân, Annam, and fifteen other Cleddtânian soldiers. “Good morning, everyone,” Sotân said, trying not to sound sleepy, “As you know, today you will begin the journey to the other side of the country. My best cartographers have made a map for you to follow that should get you there safely.” Sotân turned to Weinwyr and said, “Weinwyr will be your leader. I expect you to follow his orders.”

“I-I can’t possibly—“ Weinwyr started, but Sotân cut him off by handing the Goedwrenian his father’s halberd. The king said:

“I expect you to deliver this to the other side. Please let them know that their king watches over them.”

“You can’t deliver it yourself?” Weinwyr asked.

“No. There are matters here that I must handle immediately. I am counting on you and your party to complete this task.”

“I understand,” Weinwyr said, bowing. Selŵr, Dweir, and Tyiâ bowed as well. “We promise to bring the country together once again.”

“I know you will. My men have all the provisions you’ll need. May the god Tân smile upon you,” Sotân said. He led the party of twenty to the room with the entrance to the catacombs. He lit the golden circle just as Artân had done and the plate slid out of the way. The party descended into the dark catacombs and the golden circle slid back into place just as Weinwyr looked behind him.

Back into the catacombs… he thought dismally, At least this time I have a map.  He unfolded the map the cartographers had made. It detailed the catacombs under the palace (Weinwyr even found where the hidden library was) and beyond. They reached the large tunnel and Weinwyr said:

“Keep going forward into that tunnel.” He pointed to the tunnel opposite them. “That one should lead us to the road.” The party walked onwards into the dimly lit tunnels. On and on they went for what seemed like hours. The tunnel twisted and turned like a snake as it continued to descend into the earth.

Finally, Annam pulled out a little metal device and read it. “It’s half past two,” he said.

“What is that?” Dweir asked curiously.

“It’s called a pocket watch. It was developed in Gwasmellt,” Annam said curtly. He pocketed the small metal watch and said, “Sir Weinwyr, I recommend we stop and eat before we carry on.”

“Good idea,” Weinwyr said, ordering the party to halt. They did so, and soon rations of meat and dried fruit were handed out to everyone. They ate in silence. Weinwyr could feel the tension between the Cleddtânian soldiers and the Duriân soldiers. After all, the war had just ended recently; tensions would be high. Soon, they had packed up their food and trudged on. The tunnel continued on, down, down, down. Annam routinely checked his pocket watch, informing Weinwyr of the time.

After a long day of walking, Annam called, “It’s nearly ten in the evening, sir Weinwyr. I suggest we stop for the night.”

“Very well,” Weinwyr yawned. He was exhausted. He looked over the map. According to the parchment, they still had a ways a go before they reached the underground road. Soon, he drifted off to sleep on the cold floor.

~~~~~~

Weinwyr awoke to a rough slap to the face. He jolted awake and stared bleary eyed at the scene around him. The party of twenty was tied up with a scratchy, durable rope and about fifty short, red creatures stood around them. The creatures had squashed little faces with turned up noses and pointed ears. They all wore dulled armour made of iron and leather. Helmets covered the tops of their faces, but Weinwyr could see their gleaming yellow eyes.

“Who dares trespass in our caves?” one of the creatures hissed nastily. He was presumably the leader given that his armour was the finest among the rest.

Weinwyr, still smarting, said shakily, “W-we mean no harm. We’re merely travelers passing through.”

“Don’t try to reason with them, sir,” Annam said, “Hobgoblins are as stubborn as they come.” Several hobgoblins pointed their spears at Annam’s throat.

“Such words are punishable by a swift death!” the leader snapped. He leered at Weinwyr and said, “I am Fanhedwll, king of the tunnels. Explain your purpose before I behead you.”

“I just said we are travellers,” Weinwyr said again, “We wish to reunite Cleddtân under one ruler once again. Won’t you please let us go? It is very important that we press on!”

“Hmm…” Fanhedwll grumbled, scratching at his knobbed chin. He squinted at the travellers and said, “If one of you can defeat our best fighter, I will consider letting you go.” The hobgoblins roared at their leader in their archaic tongue, but Fanhedwll shouted at them to cease. “No adventurer has been able to defeat him. Not in one hundred years.”

“I’ll fight,” Weinwyr said, attempting to stand, but he heard Selŵr say gruffly to the king:

“I fight. Little Weinwyr stays.”

“Oh? A morlau, eh? Haven’t had one of your kind venture in the tunnels for years,” Fanhedwll smirked, crossing his arms. He ordered his men to untie Selŵr and the morlau stood a good three or four feet above the hobgoblins.

He cracked his neck and asked, “Who fights me?” A slightly taller hobgoblin tossed Selŵr a sword. This hobgoblin had a scarred face and a sneer plastered on his face. He wore little armour over his arms and legs.

“I am Dynrudd,” the stocky hobgoblin said nastily. He held a spear in his hands. He pointed it at Selŵr and snapped, “Pick up that sword. I’ll not fight an unarmed opponent.”

Selŵr looked at Dynrudd then down to the sword. He shrugged and said, “I no need puny weapon. I defeat you just fine with hands.” Dynrudd’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“It’s your funeral,” he cackled, lunging at Selŵr. The taller morlau easily sidestepped the attack and continued to do so for every strike. The end of the spear didn’t ever seem to come near him.

“Your form sloppy,” Selŵr said, dodging yet another attack. “You cannot hit me with sloppy attack. I too fast for you.”

“Shut up!” Dynrudd snapped. He swung the spear at Selŵr’s head. Selŵr caught it with one hand. The hobgoblin’s face changed from anger to panic in a matter of seconds. Selŵr snapped the sharp end of the spear off with his other hand and drove the end of the stick into Dynrudd’s stomach. The hobgoblin keeled over, coughing and spluttering.

Selŵr shrugged and said to the leader, “This your strongest? No one beat him? That sad.”

Fanhedwll gnashed his teeth and growled, “Fine! You’ve beaten him! What do you want?”

“Want to pass. Need to find other half Cleddtân. You know where is, yah?”

“Yes, we know where the road that leads you under the mountains to those human towns,” Fanhedwll snapped, “Anything else, O powerful morlau?”

“Yah. Ywar there too?” Selŵr asked. Weinwyr perked up. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of the Ywar Empire occupying half of Cleddtân. However, now that he thought on it, he didn’t put it past them to do such a horrible thing.

“The Ywar? Hmm…” Fanhedwll scratched at his chin. “We haven’t gone up there in a long time… but I believe we did see humans with silver hair there.”

Weinwyr’s heart sank. “Are you absolutely positive?” he asked.

“Yes, puny human. They looked a lot like you,” Fanhedwll smirked, “Why? What’s the big deal then?”

“It no important. Thank you, great goblin king,” Selŵr said, bowing slightly. “Untie friends, please.” Fanhedwll gave the order in the hobgoblin tongue and soon the nineteen humans were untied and reunited once again. “Lead us to road, yah,” Selŵr ordered. The leader of the hobgoblins nodded and he and his troops lead the humans and morlau down the last leg of the tunnel to a wide cavern. A well trodden path stretched on into the dark.

“We will take you no further,” Fanhedwll grumbled, “If you dare come back, I will make sure you do not leave these caves alive.”

“Thank you, Fanhedwll,” Weinwyr said bitterly as the hobgoblins scurried back into the darkness. He sighed. “Well that was a minor setback.”

“Nah. Not bad,” Selŵr said, grinning cheekily, “Got to fight! Got to fight!”

“I’m surprised,” Annam said quietly, “We got away unscathed… I’ve heard stories about men who go into caves and are torn apart by the hobgoblins…”

“L-let’s keep those stories to ourselves,” Weinwyr said nervously, “We got away, so let’s continue on.” But Annam shook his head, looking at his watch.

“It’s very early in the morning. We should rest for now and continue on in a few hours,” Annam suggested. Weinwyr sighed, but nodded anyway. They re-set up camp and soon they were all asleep once again.

 

 

 

19: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The days turned into weeks, and finally the weeks turned into a month. Weinwyr guessed that they were very close to reaching the end of the road, but their food and water were running scarce. They were forced to start rationing their supplies, much to the soldier’s dismay. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Tyiâ spotted the first glimpse of natural light the group had seen in a month. He shouted:

“Light! There’s real light over there!” Excited, he, Weinwyr, Selŵr, Dweir, Annam, and the other fifteen men practically flew towards the light like moths. They didn’t have to run very far, and they burst into an open field of green. They bathed in the sunlight. Several of the soldiers fell to their knees and kissed the ground.

“Annam, let’s make camp here. We could all use a good break after that trek,” Weinwyr said, breathing in the fresh air.

“I agree, sir,” Annam said. He sounded friendly for the first time. “I’ll take a few men and go hunt for some food.”

“Good idea. I’ll take some others to go look for some water,” Weinwyr suggested. With that, four soldiers went with Annam and Selŵr, Tyiâ, and Dweir went with Weinwyr. The remaining soldiers stayed behind and set up camp.

The landscape was truly beautiful: green plains rolled into the horizon, the mountains were far behind the exit of the tunnel, and the sun shone brightly against a blue sky with nary a cloud in the sea of blue. Weinwyr could see the remains of a town not too far down the hill they’d emerged on. But he knew his first priority was water. He, like everyone else, was extremely thirsty. Through the quietness of the surroundings, Weinwyr heard the gentle tumbling of a creek nearby. He darted off towards it with Dweir, Tyiâ, and Selŵr close at his heels.

“Thank the gods!” Weinwyr exclaimed as he came across the small creek. He knelt next to the creek and cupped water in his hands. He drank the water slowly, savouring every moment of it. The others followed suit and soon they were all rehydrated. Selŵr held the water skins under the water until they filled up. He slung the three bulging skins over his shoulder and whistled a morlau tune as they walked back to the camp.

“Come get water!” Selŵr called to the soldiers as they returned. The soldiers rushed to the morlau and gratefully accepted water. While Selŵr was rehydrating the men, Weinwyr took the opportunity to take Dweir and Tyiâ with him to explore the remains of the town he’d spotted.

The three carefully made their way down the hill. They made sure to be armed; they remembered Ywarian soldiers could be anywhere on this land. The town was completely empty, save for some weeds and maybe some birds.

“This town has been destroyed recently,” Weinwyr said.

“How can you tell?” Dweir asked. Weinwyr pointed at a building. The skeleton of the building was exposed and half of the building was missing.

“The wood hasn’t decayed fully. I’d say this town was destroyed maybe fifteen or so years ago.”

“Huh. That’s an extensive knowledge of wood you have there,” Tyiâ said, looking over the building. “I wouldn’t have been able to guess that.”

“That’s what happens when you’ve been raised by wood carvers,” Weinwyr chuckled, “I know pretty much everything there is to know about wood.”

Dweir narrowed his eyes and said, “If this town was destroyed this recently, then that’s just more proof that the Ywar Empire has been through here. Damn them.” He caught Weinwyr’s glance and said quickly, “Er, no offense.”

“No I agree. What they’re doing is terrible. Seeing this town just makes me wonder if there’s any Cleddtân left to save.” Weinwyr sighed.

“I’m sure there are other towns that haven’t been destroyed!” Tyiâ said optimistically, “We’ll find one for sure.”

The wind changed directions and an unpleasant stench crept into the air. Weinwyr covered his nose and exclaimed, “Ugh! What is that smell?”

“It smells like… something rotten,” Dweir said. He and Tyiâ covered their noses as well. They followed the scent to a horrifying sight. Amongst the green fields was a huge hole halfway full of bodies.

“A mass grave…” Dweir muttered. Weinwyr retched and collapsed to his knees. He felt nauseous.

“Weinwyr!” Tyiâ cried, rushing to the young man’s aid. “Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine,” Weinwyr stammered through the nausea, “It’s just… horrifying… I’m gonna be sick…” Dweir lifted Weinwyr to his feet and steered him away from the huge pit.

“I’ve never seen anything more disgusting,” Tyiâ grumbled when they had cleared the area and were heading back to the campsite. Weinwyr was dead silent the whole walk back. Dweir kept an eye on the young Goedwrenian.

When they arrived back at the camp, Annam told Weinwyr, “We successfully caught a deer and a few rabbits for dinner. My men also found some edible roots if you’re really hungry.”

“Great. Make sure everyone gets enough food. I’m going to set up my tent and sleep,” Weinwyr mumbled. As he trudged off, Annam asked Tyiâ:

“What’s wrong with him?”

Tyiâ explained, “There’s a ghost town down there. Apparently the Ywar dump the bodies of those they kill in a pit around there.” Annam looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“What?!” he hissed, “Those bastards took over this land and are killing my people?! They will not get away with this.” While he and Tyiâ talked, Weinwyr finished setting up his tent. He unrolled his rough blanket and laid on it. He curled up in a ball and went straight to sleep.

~~~~~~~

Weinwyr had terrible dreams. He was standing in front of the pit of bodies. They lay dead, but suddenly they started squirming. Decaying hands reached up towards Weinwyr. Pairs of eyes and sockets alike turned to stare daggers at the young man. The bodies shouted:

“Why didn’t you save us?!”

“Why are we dead?”

“Why didn’t you save us?!”

“They killed us all!!”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US?!” Weinwyr tried to run, but he felt as if he was rooted to the ground. The bones of hundreds of people’s hands were pulling him into the put. The skulls cackled maniacally as Weinwyr let out a scream.

~~~~~

Weinwyr awoke in a cold sweat. There was no light in his tent, so he assumed it must have been nighttime. He peeked outside. The soldiers were sitting around the campfire, singing softly or chatting with each other. Weinwyr sighed and joined them quietly. Annam said, “Good evening, sir. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah a little. Don’t worry about me,” Weinwyr said, forcing a smile. Annam nodded and said:

“We’ve called this town Fiotân. ‘Remembered by Fire.’ We want those Ywarian bastards to know that we’ll never forget about what happened here. We’re going to burn the bodies tomorrow and fill in the hole.”

“G-good,” Weinwyr said, sighing again.

“What’s wrong?” Tyiâ asked.

“I just can’t believe the Ywar Empire is behind all this. The war between Cleddtân and Duriâ, the annexation of half of Cleddtân, all of this bloodshed… it’s horrific,” Weinwyr replied.

“It is, sir,” Annam said, “And that’s why I recommend striking back!”

“Wh-what? No! I didn’t risk my life to stop a war just to start another!” Weinwyr retorted.

“But you’ve seen what they’ve done! They’ve killed hundreds of thousands of people, Cleddtânians and Duriâns alike! Not to mention they killed my king!” Annam stated furiously. The Cleddtânian soldiers murmured in agreement.

“Revenge is not the answer,” Weinwyr said firmly, crossing his arms.

“No? Then what about defense? They’ve attacked us first,” Annam reasoned, “What if they attack again? Will we not defend ourselves? Will we not risk our lives for our freedom?” Nineteen pairs of eyes locked onto Weinwyr. Their faces were solemn and expectant. Weinwyr looked at the ground and said softly:

“As much as I hate to admit it, I suppose there’d be no choice but to fight.”

Annam grinned slightly and said, “Yes. I thought you’d say so.” He stood from the circle around the fire and said, “I’m going to sleep.” The soldiers wished him good night and he vanished into his tent. Slowly, the soldiers broke away from the circle to their individual tents. Soon only Weinwyr and Dweir remained. Weinwyr sighed.

“I can’t believe they’ve still got war on their minds,” he grumbled.

“They’re soldiers fresh from a war. Don’t be too surprised,” Dweir said. He narrowed his green eyes and murmured, “Though I do have to agree with them. The Ywar Empire has committed some serious offences. If they do try to take over Cleddtân, the people will have no choice but to fight for their country.”

“Why does everyone expect me to make these decisions?” Weinwyr asked suddenly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Why does Annam and the rest of the soldiers expect me to decide what they do? I’m just some kid from Goedwren. I’m not a general of any kind,” Weinwyr said, frustration creeping into his voice. “They can’t expect this much from me!”

“You’re right. No child your age should be expected to make such important, life or death decisions. But you’ve done it in the past haven’t you? You made the decision to travel to Duriâ and Cleddtân, no?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“You made the choice to risk life and limb crossing a stormy sea to Cleddtân?”

“Yes, but—“

“Did you not make the decision to venture into the catacombs to find out anything about the Ywar Empire, not knowing if anything was down there?”

“Yes! Yes I did!” Weinwyr finally shouted angrily, “But this is completely different! They’re expecting me to help declare war! All the choices I’ve made were for saving people, not killing them!” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry, Dweir,” he muttered, “I’m just feeling stressed.”

“I understand,” Dweir said, nodding and smiling slightly. “You know, you are a very mature kid for making these decisions. Not many adults can do that.”

“Thanks…” Weinwyr said. His ears pricked up. He heard something whistle through the air. He glanced up too late and an arrow struck his shoulder. He fell backwards and Dweir shouted:

“We’re under attack!!”

 

 

20: Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Arrows rained down throughout the camp. Dweir pulled Weinwyr to his feet and ducked behind a tree. “Are you all right, son?!” Dweir asked loudly. Weinwyr nodded and yanked the arrow out of his shoulder. It bled profusely, so Weinwyr lit up a small but hot flame at the end of his fingertips. He pressed the fire to his wound and burned it shut. He gritted his teeth and hissed:

“Where are they coming from?”

“The north. The arrows are coming from the north!” The other soldiers moblised and took up their shields, blocking the arrows.

Annam shouted, “Fire back!” The soldiers picked up their bows and fired into the darkness. Annam took up his own bow, lit up an arrow with his fire magic, and fired it. The grass lit up in a blaze, revealing the Ywarian soldiers. There were about thirty of the men. Weinwyr could see their fierce silver eyes. Weinwyr’s party drew their swords and slowly advanced towards the enemy, blocking their arrows. Weinwyr drew his sword.

“Think we can take all of them?” Weinwyr asked Dweir.

“Twenty to thirty? I think so. Our men are practically thirsty for a fight.”

“Good.” Weinwyr charged out from behind the tree and lightning crackled at the end of his sword. He jabbed the weapon at the enemy and a lightning bolt streaked towards the Ywarian soldiers. That was the cue for Weinwyr’s party to strike. The soldiers let out a war cry and darted towards the Ywarians.

Swords clashed. Blood spattered the ground. As soon as the battle started, it was over. The Ywarians were driven back and fled. Amazingly, no one in Weinwyr’s party was killed. Some of the men had injuries, but nothing that couldn’t be treated. The men that were unharmed for the most part dragged the bodies of the fallen Ywarians into one pile to bury.

“Well done, men!” Annam congratulated, “We’ve staved off those demons!” The men cheered victoriously and thrust their weapons to the sky.

“I can heal injures, yah,” Selŵr said.

“You can do what?” Annam asked.

“I heal! I heal! Morlau have ancient healing magic. It help much, yah?”

Annam gestured for Selŵr to go on ahead, and Selŵr lumbered up to one of the more injured men. He had a long but shallow gash running down his chest. The taller morlau waved his hands over the wound, chanting in his tongue. A dim light shone in his palms. Slowly, the wound on the soldier’s chest closed itself, leaving a long, thin scar. The man gaped at the morlau.

“Th-thank you,” he stammered, poking at his chest.

“No thank Selŵr. It good, yah?” Selŵr got to work healing the men, one by one. When he got to Weinwyr, he asked, “You injured?”

“An arrow struck my shoulder, but I burned the wound shut,” Weinwyr replied, “Perhaps not the best idea…”

“Show me wound,” Selŵr said. Weinwyr did as he was told, taking off his vest and revealing the ugly burn. It stretched horizontally across his shoulder. Selŵr furrowed his brows and pressed his hand to the wound. He shrugged and said, “Is not bad. It leaves mark, though.”

“That’s fine. So long as it’s not serious.”

“Nah. You fine, you fine.” Selŵr went on to heal the rest of the men while Annam walked up to Weinwyr. He said:

“We need to relocate. The Ywarians know of our position.”

“I agree,” Weinwyr said, putting his vest back on. “Selŵr will heal the rest of the men, then we will move out.” Annam nodded and went about barking orders. The soldiers quickly packed up the camp and soon they were venturing through the plains.

Annam fell back from the front to walk with Weinwyr. He asked, “How did those Ywarians know where we were? No one should know of our whereabouts.”

“I suspect that traitor Disrig must have other men in the palace, informing him of our every move,” Weinwyr replied, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. Annam stopped and ordered the men to stop. Weinwyr gave the general a confused look.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid we must turn back. There’s no telling what danger the king may be in!” Annam said. Worry clearly showed in his voice.

“But we’ve come so far!” Weinwyr protested, “We can’t stop now!”

“No… but perhaps some of the men will come with me and we journey back to the palace, and the rest will stay with you and accompany you to the Ywar Empire.”

Weinwyr stared at the ground. “We would be at a disadvantage if we were to be attacked again… but Sotân’s safety is important,” he finally said after a moment of contemplation. “Very well. Annam, take your men back to the palace. A smaller party should be easier to control, anyway.”

“Yes. It was an honour serving you,” Annam said, holding out his hand for Weinwyr to shake. The silver haired teen did so and said:

“May the gods smile upon you. Watch out for those nasty hobgoblins.”

Annam nodded and his men rallied to him. Soon, they were nothing but a speck travelling towards the mountains. That left Weinwyr, Selŵr, Tyiâ, and Dweir to continue the mission alone. “We’ll head north,” Weinwyr decided, “following the river.” The small party had no objections, so off they went. The sun shone down on them pleasantly as they walked. Occasionally they stopped to drink or eat, but for the most part they pressed onward. Eventually, however, they had to set up camp. They pitched their tents next to the river. Without much conversation, they ate dinner and went to sleep.

~~

Nearly a week later, Dweir was the first to spot a small, bustling town next to the river. The sun was just beginning to set as the small group entered the town. Tyiâ managed to locate an inn and said, “We can rest here tonight.”

“With what money?” Dweir asked, crossing his arms.

Selŵr had been in charge of the former king’s halberd, so he held it out in front of him. “We give them this,” he said, “It theirs anyway.”

“Might as well give it a try,” Weinwyr said. He and the rest of the small party entered the inn. It was incredibly cozy. A roaring fire burned in the fireplace and several people sat around it, talking and laughing. A young woman stood at the front desk and hollered:

“You folks looking for a room?” The woman had light brown hair and golden brown eyes.

“Er, yes,” Weinwyr said, but suddenly the young woman’s eyes widened as she saw Weinwyr.

“You all can stay, but the silver haired one isn’t welcome here,” she growled. The people at the fireplace turned and had the same reaction when they saw Weinwyr. Several of them stood up, some of them were big, burly men.

“Wh-what?” Weinwyr stammered, “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You’re Ywarian aren’t you?” she snapped, “Those bastards aren’t welcome in my inn. All they do is cause trouble.” She leapt over the counter with a small knife in her hand.

“Trust me, I’m not with the Ywar Empire and I certainly won’t cause any trouble.”

The young woman raised an eyebrow and asked, “How can I be sure?”

“We can vouch for him!” Tyiâ piped up, stepping forward to defend his friend. “I am Prince Tyiâ of the Duriân Empire, and I can vouch for my good friend Weinwyr that he is not part of the villainous Ywar Empire. In fact, he’s gone through many hurdles to bring Cleddtân back together! You are under your king again! Selŵr, show them the halberd,” Tyiâ said. The huge morlau, who had some difficulty standing up straight given the ceiling was so short for him, showed the innkeeper the halberd.

“That’s supposed to mean something to me?” the young woman asked.

“It’s the halberd of your former king,” Tyiâ said, “Your new king, Sotân, wants you all to know that he is working to bring Cleddtân back to its former glory and reunite the country. He will free you from the Ywarians!”

The men from the fireplace all murmured to each other. Even the fiery young woman looked contemplative. “Will he really do that? Did this Ywarian really help our king?” she asked.

“I swear on my life that I’ve done nothing but to help Cleddtân these past months,” Weinwyr said, “I despise the Ywar Empire just as much as you all do and I will do everything in my power to stop them.”

The young woman stayed silent for a moment. She sighed and said, “Very well. I believe you. You may stay here if you’d like. We’re not making any money anyway, so what’s the harm of letting a couple of freeloaders stay.” With that she went back to the counter and let the party go about their business.