Chapter 5

Quit

She was just sitting there, gorgeous as she always had been. Her long, wavy silver hair shone in the torchlight encircling her. A trait of her Hidrrian heritage.Those glittering green eyes batted as she looked across the tavern at him. For a moment, Arethor wasn’t even sure if she was real. It felt like seeing a ghost, in an odd sense. Chills ran through him as his heart quickened in pace, almost to the degree it had when he’d been sparing. He wasn’t sure if that was embarrassing or not. It sure felt so.

It then occurred to him that he’d been standing at the taverns door for far too long, and the look on her face had begun to teeter in the zone of genuine concern. Laughing it off, he made his way to the bar in hopes to recover his blunder.

“Tolo, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Arethor said nice and slowly, as to avoid stuttering like a fool. He was sure he’d made himself look as such enough as it was. But the young lady, well, relevantly young in terms of an Elder, didn’t seem to acknowledge his foolishness. Instead she held a gentle and understanding gaze.

“I’ve got some news. Thought it was best to find you in person. I’ve been waiting for over an hour.” She glanced over at Hemm, who nervously smiled while hoisting a drink in cheers. “Your partner there is rather vague when discussing your comings and goings.” She grinned playfully, taking a sip of what was most likely a Remedy. She’d once said it was his only good option of drink, which he wasn’t sure whether to be upset about or not.

“That’s because I’m vague to him about it. He has a loose tongue when he’s drinking.” He flashed the mylian a stern look, to which Hemm quickly looked back down to attend to his dirty mugs. Tolo chuckled. With one foot she scooted a stool out in his direction, insisting he take a seat. No words needed to be exchanged as he found himself sitting down beside her.

“But you’ve got news, you say? Good news I’m hoping.” Arethor tapped the bar to signal for a drink, which his partner dispensed in a timely manner. He was parched from all the sparing, and as he drank he realized how much his body was going to ache in the morning.

Tolo frowned, looking around the room as she thought.

“Not entirely, actually. But some is good, yes.”

“Well don’t keep me waiting.”

“Okay, okay. The bad news is as I was leaving my shift I overheard a few things from the war room.” Tolo paused, bringing her tone down and leaning in closer to the elf. “I heard them discussing the counter-attack next week. Apparently we’re going to march through the Marrow aimlessly until we find their camp.” The frown never left her face as she explained. Arethor couldn’t help but scoff, leaning back in surprise.

“That’s hundreds of miles of forest, how do they expect to do that?”’

“I’m not sure...”

“We’d have to spread ourselves so damn thin there would only be a dozen men a squad. And, assuming they found the camp, what if its an ambush? They’d stand no chance and backup would be at least a few miles away. They’d be slaughtered!” Arethor realized he was raising his voice, and quickly sealed his lips.

“I know, Arethor, trust me. It’s a disaster. But they haven’t got anything from the prisoners, nothing of use anyways. And Orieth has no clue what he’s doing. He hasn’t had to deal with a conflict like this before.” Though Tolo had just delivered disheartening news, she remained collected. The tavern pulsated with life, voices beginning to raise as the crowd turned more drunk. A man by the fire place began playing his lute passionately, with somber songs to start.

“It couldn’t have been easy coming in just to be faced with the disaster of Greyholde. And while I understand this was thrusted upon him, hes had two decades to plan for something like this.” Arethor took a long, hardy swig of his ale. The buzz went straight to his head, the mushrooms working their magic like a charm. If there was ever a time he needed that sensation, it was now. “Otis said he was gathering some information tonight, and at first I wasn’t interested. But if Orieths plan is to have our army exposed and our city left undefended, then perhaps I should intervene.” Arethor rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He imagined the look on Orieths face as he stormed through the throne room toward him. The King had only seen him in one mission before, and it had ended miserably with a third of the Oak being wiped out. This didn’t exactly leave a great impression of Arethor, even if it was entirely out of his control.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Orieth had been told Arethor was a killing machine, capable of slaying dozens of men within minutes. That was not what he’d seen. All the king recalled was the burning of ships, buildings, and his men. And standing at the center of it, a sorcerer of unknown origin. With Arethor no where to be seen.

And the man that had been king no longer than a few weeks spared no tears watching Arethor go. Only Heathgrim had been there to comfort the veteran on his way out. That, and Tolo. And the two remained the only ones that Arethor truly trusted in the Oak after Malars passing.

“Always was a nosy one, that Otis.” Tolo chuckled, running a finger along the bar top.

“He just wants to feel included.” Arethor shrugged, blinking away a sudden wave of tiredness, but he was quickly brought back due to Tolos sudden laughter.

“You speak of him like a child!” She laughed, covering her mouth, her perfect lips. Perfect to him anyways. But he hadn’t realized the way he was describing his friend, but perhaps it brought upon some self reflection.

“I suppose I’ve always thought of him as my younger brother. I speak of Amber the same way, after all.” He suddenly felt self-conscious, and worst of all: old. But he knew Tolo was close to his age, and there was a small amount of comfort in that. “You had good news too, correct?” Arethor steered the conversation, no longer wanting to think about the grim direction that the Oak was taking. It seemed it was the right choice too, as Tolos face lit with excitement.

“Yes, of course! While the timing was entirely coincidental, it just so happens that as of today I have resigned from the Oak.” The words left her lips so effortlessly, her eyes bright with anticipation at his reaction. Only, he had none. He was utterly frozen. It felt entirely unreal. It sounded morbid in his head, as it was her passion and she loved her job, but he had always hoped she would resign soon after him. So that they could properly carryout what they’d always wanted for each other. Something that being in the Oak simply didn’t allot for.

“Arethor?” Tolo frowned, which nearly felt like a dagger between his ribs. Shaking his head, he finally smiled.

“You did? Did you...was it so...” He stopped, wondering if what he wanted to say would sound selfish. “Why?” Arethor finished, blinking wildly. Tolo was no fool, and read the elf like the open book he often was. But she in fact didn’t take any offense.

“It was just time. I’ll never have to worry about having enough cryys, so why keep stretching myself so thin? Besides, there were much better translators than me there.” She suddenly avoided his gaze, as if expecting the backlash that was certainly going to come her way. And that it did.

“That is ridiculous, you were the best damn translator they had and you know it.” Arethor slapped back, mouth agape.

“Oh, please. Remember that time at the Summerstaff Festival? I made those poor Rifnallians look like fools.” Tolo covered her face to hide the blush. Just the thought alone made her grow red in the face. It was something she’d never live down herself, and only the passage of time allowed those dwelling in the palace to forget. Quite literally, several dozen people had to die from age before Tolo could walk into the palace without being teased. She found it was the only perk of outliving the non-Elders around you.

“That was unfortunate. But in your one hundred and fifty years of service, that might’ve been your only real incident!”

“I told the king in full confidence that…” Suddenly her voice grew thin, replaced with a familiar hum. It consumed his mind, pulsating, pleading for his attention. It was the Connection. His eyes drifted toward the source, as it beckoned to him.

It was beneath the floorboards in the center of the tavern. A flurry of feet paraded just over it. Chairs sliding and scratching loudly, yet never loud enough to drown out its cry. He'd been sensing it for months, ever since that young man had appeared in his tavern. Was he…in the floor?

"Arethor?" Tolo's voice cut through the hum, and he was jerked back into reality. Blinking wildly, he nodded without knowing what it was she'd said. That look of concern was back, and so was the feeling of foolishness.

"Sorry, the tavern is buzzing tonight." He played it off, taking in a deep, cleansing breath. Tolo looked around, as the tavern was rather quiet than it generally was. She grinned, as she figured it must be an excuse to get her away, somewhere private. She didn't exactly hate the idea.

"It's getting late, perhaps you can walk me back to my house?" Tolo raised a brow, the proposition brought upon a cold sweat. But there was no way in hell he was going to say no.