Vedek

By the time they reached the town, the sun was only a couple hours from setting. It was a quiet setting, save a few people, humans and coatlmade, milling in front of rough houses. The caravan stopped on the outskirts. Several of those in the carts got out to stretch and examine the area.

“Easy to tell why Dirk wanted us to stop here.” Trub chuckled between his words. He gestured to the chapel on the hill. It was a dome-shaped structure, not unlike a bread over. It had an open roof, better to see the sky with. Vedek knew the ethereal designs that decorated the glittering yellow stones that constructed it.

“It’s a temple to Sahn. What of it?” Vedek asked. Surely revering the Grand Sun God was not so uncommon in this scorched land.

“Dirk was, is, a cleric to Sahn.” Trub stumbled to answer.

“He’s a good man.” Lyr continued. “And he’ll want to see you all returned to your proper homes.”

Lyr repeated in Dustspeak for the villagers with them. Trub left to ascend to the chapel and retrieve this well-spoken-of leader.

“You have fun with that.” Azeroth was eying the Devil’s Rest tavern.

“You speak like you intend to leave us.” Frost worriedly tilted his head.

“I don’t have a proper home. One place is the same as any to me.” Azeroth shrugged. He was already breaking from the group when Frost called out again.

‘Wait!” There was enough urgency in Frost’s voice to reel Azeroth back to hear his proposal. Frost looked to the others, words hanging on the tip of his tongue. “I’ll break off as well. If you’ll take me as a traveling companion.”

Azeroth arched his bushy eyebrows. He was caught off guard by Frost’s forwardness. “I guess?”

“What about you?” Frost pointed at Cole. “We northerners have to stick together.”

Cole looked thrilled at the idea. He breathlessly nodded his confirmation.

“Do you have a destination in mind?” Rerume asked. “Or will you stay in this...place?”

“Somewhere you need to be?” Frost asked, confidence growing as more recruits joined his pack.

“Ramuf. That was my destination before I was captured. Previously I traveled alone, but it seems that makes you a target in the Confederacy. Continuing my path with others…it might not be so detrimental.”

“Stronger as one than as many.” Frost concurred with a toothy grin.

Vedek was baffled at how easily these strangers joined their causes to one another. When Frost looked to him with anticipation Vedek nearly gasped. So that’s how it was. Fate was extending Vedek a hand to join these men and the security that came with them. Was it a safe bet? It could be mere days before the alliance dissolved and became another dead end, like so much had been since the coupe. They had nothing, but they had nothing together.

He could hear the cruel laughter of his brother. Vedek had to survive if he was to ever see justice done.

The words escaped Vedek’s lips: “I’ll go with you.”

“Excelllent!” Frost rubbed his hairy palms together. “That makes five. A lucky number for wechers.”

Lyr watched this unification with an enigmatic expression. A smile faded onto his lips. Amusement? Or pride by proxy?

Trub returned. In his tow was a human girl with the same face as Lyr. Her eyes were intense and she kept her hand rested on the hilt of a sword in a glinting black sheath. Despite her aloof appearance, she looked to Trub with fondness and smiled affectionately as he explained their escape from the caravan.

The other person with them was a man. He was set to a height beneath that of any human or elf, but his frame was nearly twice as broad. He was aged enough that crow’s feet bordered his eyes and spots were appearing on his perfectly shaven, perfectly round head. His beard was molded into the shape of a firm sixteen centimeter spike piercing through his thick chin.

“Dirk Izelney.” He extended a hand to each of those gathered at the carts. “I lead this chapter of the Lion’s Claw. A cleric to Sahn and a dwarf of noble intent. I am glad that Lyr and Trub survived their mission to trail the barbatus, gladder still that strangers came to their rescue and the rescue of these people.”

“This would be my sister Lyn.” Lyr introduced the woman at Trub’s side.

Lyn made a quick wave, clearly uncomfortable with introductions. “Twin sister.” She hastily added.

“A dwarf who worships a sun divine. Now that’s my strangest encounter today.” Cole’s tone was cheeky, but he looked at Dirk with rapt fascination.

“I was born above ground, same as most Western Dwarves. The deceptions of Artinis Peyotrite are far from here. Sahn is a stalwart god, worthy of his place in the Grand Pantheon. He also does not require a physical mantel for his clerics, which is beneficial in my work as a healer.”

Keeping true to that statement, Dirk insisted on examining each of them for wounds that he could mend while the sun was still out. Azeroth was the most scuffed of any of them due to his fighting style. Most of the cuts the orc shrugged off as being minor, but he did admit a gash on his left flank wasn’t scarring as fast as he’d like.

Without another ask for confirmation, Dirk set his weathered hands to the oozing cut and proclaimed: “Sahn, seal this wound shut!”

The underside of Dirk’s palm lit up like there was a miniature sun beneath it. Vedek felt a flash of heat. After a few seconds of pressure Dirk retracted his hand. The long gash on Azeroth’s abdomen had ceased bleeding, replaced by a white scarline that raised above the flesh like a ridged spine. Dirk frowned at the sight and ran his thumb along the scar.

“Orc’s mend like that.” Azeroth answered, batting Dirk’s hand away. “Armor.”

The wound still ached, as evident from how Azeroth moved when he walked away. Once again he set himself apart from the group, leaning against the cart with his arms folded and scowling a guarded expression.

Not wanting the tension to last, Dirk cordially looked to Rerume and bowed. ‘It’s an honor to meet another dedicated to their faith. Did this interrupt any service you were previously set to?”

“No.” Rerume’s bow was only a few degrees from standing straight. “-But I am still set for Ramuf, and these four will accompany me in the journey.”

Dirk stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I wish you luck then. It lightens the load for us because we must only return the remaining six to their homes. It is bizarre that the barbatus would prey on so many who are so capable, but I suppose that was what we were investigating. Have you heard of this recent scourge of raids?”

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

The three from the east, Frost, Vedek, and Cole, shook their heads. Rerume came from the south, the Dune Seas, and knew nothing in turn. The only true native of their five, Azeroth, was too disinterested to answer.

He explained further. “The Barbatus have grown bolder in their raids. Communities are drying up under constant attacks. Barbatus aren’t reckless. They don’t wage war, and they don’t ‘over farm’ as it were. The suspicion was that someone is enabling them.”

“We hoped th-that trailing the caravan would sh-show a meeting place.” Trub continued. “But th-there was a dust storm. I lost sight of Lyr.”

“…And I stumbled into the Barbatus camp.” Lyr concluded somewhat hastily. “The rest you were there for.”

Vedek caught sight of Cole’s expression. The boy was mystified and entranced by the notion of some Barbatus conspiracy.

“It’s only fair we let you keep the cart. You’ve spent enough time imprinting on that saurian.” Vedek nearly jumped when Lyr spoke to him. He had grown comfortable in his place on the periphery of notice.

Vedek looked to the gila saurian dozing at his feet. It was true that he had built some small affection with the saurian, naming it “Mall”, an Elven word meaning “Slow”, for the leisurely motions of its face. It was a relief to know they wouldn’t be walking on foot to Ramuf.

“There is one problem we haven’t assessed…” Vedek eased his voice into action. He was feeling more relaxed around these people. “The Barbatus took everything from us. We have no coin for traveling.”

“A true traveler doesn’t need coin.” Frost dismissed the statement.

“No, but he does need supplies, which coin can buy” Cole corrected him.

Dirk nodded wisely, then made a gesture to Lyn. The girl produced an orange pouch from her belt. “Traveling expenses for the Lion’s Claw, but you’ll need them more.”

Vedek caught the pouch when she tossed it to him. He let the weight of the coins inside sink into his palm.

“A reward. For saving Trub, and my brother.” Lyn added.

peaking with confidence was clearly not her strong suit. “It’s mostly bronze hoe, but there should still be some common silver, and even some bone tokens.”

“Bone?” Vedek peered into the pouches.

“Tribes in Athshin use bone to make currency. Most places will accept it.” Cole intruded into Vedek’s personal space to remove one of the painted shards from the pouch.

“I think dawn will be the best time for both our parties to move out.” Dirk turned his attention to the setting sun. “If you don’t mind, these frightened people have gone too long listening to strangers speak in a tongue foreign to them”

Dirk put himself to comforting the six villagers who had been waiting mutely for some verdict to their fate. Food was found, sourced from the temple of Sahn and the hunter’s market in town, but spreading between so many mouths meant that each transient was only given a few bites each. Vedek did not need much to eat. Elden Fae rarely do. He had his bread and what water could be spared before trekking up the hill to the temple of Sahn. He did not go inside, but instead traveled around the back to where the hill turned to an overhanging cliff. Vedek found a clear spot to sit on, and turned his eyes to the star stricken sky.

He was lost in thought when his ears caught the sound of someone approaching. It was quiet here and Vedek’s ears were keener than his eyes. Cole, one of his new companions, was behind him.

“Come here to be alone, or could you do with some company?”

Vedek looked back at the boy. He suddenly realized his face was exposed. His head snapped back to the stars and he compulsively pulled the mask past his nose.

“Keeping your identity secret out of fear, or just for kicks?” Cole asked.

Vedek didn’t reply.

“I guess I don’t care much either way. I just want some quiet conversation.”

“I thought you were looking for a reservoir of stiff drinks.” Vedek chided.

“Oh. That. Not really.” Cole shrugged. “Sometimes you say things that feel right in the moment, but you don’t mean to follow-up on it. Haven’t you ever done that?”

“You mean lie?” Vedek asked quietly.

“Not a lie.” Cole held up his hands defensively. “More…Fervor. Passion. Emotion can well up inside you and make you do things you wouldn’t in sober circumstances. The wecher and orc-blooded are in the tavern, using their coin to buy a small celebration. I’m not sure where the other one wandered off to.”

Without Vedek’s consent, Cole sat next to him. “I honestly can’t celebrate at a time like this. My mind’s alive with too many thoughts. Wish I had the means to write it down. Figured it would be quiet up on the hill. No reason for there to be a service for a sun god at night, eh? That’s when I saw you.”

Their legs dangled off the cliff. Vedek tried to guess the boy’s age. Humans were always tough to tell when they’re young. Cole’s hair was quite shaggy, but he had none on his face. Not as tall as Vedek himself, but respectable height for a human.

Fifteen. That was Vedek’s best guess.

“Maybe I just came to you because you’re familiar,” Cole said. “I’m from Theorainn, y’see. So it was refreshing to see a fae.”

Vedek nodded thoughtfully. Theorainn was the small vassal state of Fae’Riam that bordered Greyholm. Vedek had traveled there a few times on royal business. His distant cousin, Brienne Aveline Sahmpine, was in charge of it. He wondered if she had even heard of his usurpation.

“-My mom and dad ran a trailside inn and trading post. It was in the middle of the Maiden Forest, if you know where that is.” Vedek wasn’t certain if the boy had just started talking again without prompt, or he had been speaking this whole time and Vedek hadn’t been paying attention. “He was the innkeeper and she was the trader. It was lucrative enough that I could pay tuition for Oran Academy. They’re going to be worried sick if they hear about this. Well...Dad might. Mom’ll probably brush it off after a few weeks.”

“Your mother is that easy going?”

“Her motto is ‘All bad times pass.’ She figures if she’s to live for 300 years, she might as well not fixate on the present.”

Vedek frowned at the boy. Cole was surprised to see his expression. A puzzle solved in his mind and he switched to a smile. He pushed aside his shaggy hair. “She’s where I get my ears from.”

Vedek now understood. The boy was half elf. Not belonging to the fae blood like Vedek, but of the native Domhandan Elves. Cole’s ears were longer than a human’s, but had rounded tips. Now that Vedek was aware of it he started noticing other elven features. The pointed chin. The multi-colored iris. He had to reassess the age of the boy now.

“You really didn’t notice?” Cole gave a small laugh.

“You looked human to me.”

Cole leaned all the way onto his back so he could look at the night sky. His arms crossed the back of his head. “Admittedly not the first time an elden has mistook me for human, and to be fair: most humans think I look elven. I guess it depends on which you interact with more. So you must come from a place that’s mostly elves, yeah?”

Vedek felt he was being cross-examined. His mind tripped into a brief nightmare where the boy was a bounty hunter fishing for clues on a runaway king.

“You ever been to the Summer Isles?” Cole shifted the topic when Vedek didn’t respond.

Vedek had been to the Summer Isles many times. His great-grandmother was from there and Vedek’s family often visited. His paranoia was building again. Should he respond?

“The stars here remind me of the stars there.” The boy kept talking. “I’ve only been once, an academy trip. I was roped into learning the Sun Elves’ fire dance. I hadn’t even begun dancing classes yet, so I had no coordination.”

Cole was laughing now. It was infectious and genuine. Cole mimed the motions of the dance.

“I was twirling the lash too fast and the fire whipped off. It lands in where our canoes are beached and the whole collection goes up like it was coated in pitch. The professor on duty, this weathered old lady, turns to me and says: ‘Cole! For that, you’re swimming back’.”

Vedek started to chuckle. It wasn’t even the story so much as the boy’s delivery. The pair were laughing on this empty cliff overlooking an endless desert.

“Ah. Better times.” Cole gave a contented sigh that somehow relaxed Vedek by proxy. “Might as well sleep here.”

The boy didn’t say anymore. Whether he was actually asleep Vedek couldn’t tell. Elden Fae didn’t need to sleep long, so he would spend more time looking at the stars. They did remind him of the Summer Isles. He looked to the sleeping boy. Cole looked at peace, despite the day’s events and his current surroundings. He slept with a smile on his face. If he was attending an academy then he had to at least be eighteen by human laws. That was infancy for an Elden Fae. Vedek himself was in the midst of his fourth century with another four to go, five if he was fortunate, and six if he was favored by the divines.

Since birth he had known where fate would take him. He was set up to learn the kingly arts and replace his father when he passed. All that training had amounted to a month on the throne. Now he was no king. He was a man with a false name in a country he didn’t know with only a few coins to his name. Vedek did not know where fate was taking him, and that scared him.