The Blade Heir (Book 1) (15 page)

"No, no. It is greater than mere mead, brother."

"If that's the case, I wish the bottle were bigger. This is less than a pint and it won't suffice for both of us." Lucius held up the bottle to inspect it in the daylight.

"You do not consume the entire bottle," Siegfried snapped, snatching the bottle from Lucius' hand. "One drop of
bywydur
is more than enough for the elixir to work."

Siegfried continued to explain the benefits of using the
bywydur
as they strolled out of the Scarlet Quarter and back to the inn. Lucius reluctantly listened to his brother expound on the alchemical properties of
bywydur
and its origins over five thousand years ago. He did not share his brother's vibrant enthusiasm for the elixir, but he was contented to see Siegfried in better spirits than before. Lumiath's revelations about D'arya deeply troubled his brother, but he hoped Siegfried would come to believe the seer's words. Accepting a truth that upended one's entire view of the world was not simple—Lucius faced an identical situation in Helmer's study a few nights ago. But Lucius was less stubborn than his older brother, and he believed both his father and Lumiath with minimal hesitance.

He desired to know about his past and his place in the world, which largely influenced his tendency to believe the word of others without skepticism. But seeking truth made it difficult to choose between the two roads Lumiath had presented to him. Lucius longed to find his true family, but he equally desired to fulfill his role as the
Ellyllei
. Perhaps there was a means to achieve both? He earnestly hoped so.

TEN

The Shores of the Dulan

Please wake, my lord." The soft sound of Violet's voice beckoned, awakening Silas from his deep slumber in the forest near the Dulan River. He opened his eyes and saw the beautiful red-haired woman standing over him holding a plate in one hand.

"I presume you're famished since you slept through the noon meal," Violet said, lowering the plate down to him. "I hope you don't mind that the fish is a bit cold."

Silas sat up—feeling a twinge of pain from his shoulder and head as he did so—and grabbed the plate. "Any food will do at the moment, my lady."

Silas examined the contents of the plate: a half-charred piece of salmon, several berries, and a small lump of what looked like cheese. Ignoring any sense of propriety, he began to shovel the food into his mouth with his bare hands. Violet sat down between him and the campfire, untroubled by his lack of table manners.

 "How long have I been asleep?" Silas asked with a mouth full of fish and berries.

"A few hours; it is nearly dusk." Violet replied.

Silas glanced up at the sky through the dense foliage of the forest and saw the purple hue of the sun's fading light reflecting on the clouds above.

"I don't know your name, sir," Violet said, tilting her head to the side.

"My name is—" Silas hesitated, not wishing to reveal his true identity to a complete stranger. "Cutter. Call me Cutter."

"Cutter?" Violet raised an eyebrow. "That is a unique name. I don't believe I've heard it before."

"It's what my friends call me," Silas replied quickly as he chewed on the last piece of salmon on the plate.

"I see. Well, Cutter, what happened to you? You look as though you've been in quite a fight." Violet's eyes focused on his injured shoulder and the scrapes on his arms.

"Yes, it was quite a fight," Silas said, recalling Asher's bloodied face as he died. "My brethren and I faced a legion of Draknoir in Ithileo. There were hundreds of the king's men lying in wait to attack the fiends while the soldiers under my command acted as bait, but the Draknoir ambushed us. Somehow they knew our plan. We fought hard, but none of them survived save for me."

Violet stared at him, unblinking and mouth opened. "I ... I am so sorry, Cutter."

Silas looked at the ground and nodded. He set his empty plate down and did not speak for a while, his thoughts on his fallen comrades.

"Are you a general or commander in the king's army, then?" Violet asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"A commander, yes. I led fourteen of King Dermont's Drachengarde. Now only thirty-five remain. I must go to Aldron and report to his Majesty the heavy losses we've suffered." Silas sighed, imagining his father's scowl once he hears of the defeat.

"Well, you are in no condition to travel as far as Aldron, my lord. Not to mention you lack the necessary provisions for such a journey. My home is on the northeastern corner of the Burning Woods, two days away. You would gain the supplies and rest needed to make your trip back to Aldron," Violet said, the corners of her mouth upturned as she looked at him.

"That is very kind, my lady Violet. You will be handsomely repaid for such kindness, I assure you," Silas said.

"No repayment is needed, Cutter. Some good conversation and company will do just fine though," Violet replied with a wide smile.

Cutter let out a quick laugh. "Fair enough, my lady."

After a short conversation about the amount of food they had left for their trip to Violet's home, Cutter began packing up all of their belongings while Violet fetched Homer from a nearby brook where the horse was drinking water. When she returned with Homer in tow, Violet insisted Silas ride the horse while she guided it by the reins. Her concern for his health was beginning to annoy Silas—this was not the first time he had suffered wounds in combat. Nevertheless, he obliged her concerns and climbed up onto Homer's saddle.

It was just past the twilight hour when they set out and darkness was beginning to engulf the forest. Violet lit an oil lantern hanging from Homer's saddle and carried it in front of her as she guided the horse through the dense underbrush. Slowly, they waded through the woods and into a grassy meadow where the shining stars could be seen overhead. They stopped for a moment as the young alchemist's apprentice examined the stars for the correct direction toward her home. Silas looked up into the night sky as well, but he could not discern which stars were used for navigation—they all looked the same to his eyes. Violet effortlessly found the guiding star and they turned westward to the Dulan River.

Crossing the deep river proved to be a challenge, especially for Homer. The horse whinnied in protest several times when the cold, rushing water reached the base of his neck. Despite the horse's displeasure at the situation, Violet managed to calm the horse and hold tightly to the reins while treading water. Silas gave his best effort to soothe Homer by lightly stroking the horse's nose, but he constantly tried to nip the soldier's fingers in return; Silas was convinced the horse despised him. Once they finally arrived at the western bank of the Dulan, Homer whinnied appreciatively and clopped the rocks of the shore with his front hooves, which evoked a giggle from Violet and a grin from Silas.

The moon was in full view from the bank of the Dulan and its light cascaded on the dancing waves of the Dulan River. Silas guessed it was probably nearing the midnight hour, and he could tell the nightly travel had taken its toll on both Violet and her horse. She was completely drenched from the neck down, and in the soft lantern light, Silas perceived the weariness in her eyes. He felt tired and weak as well, despite little exertion on his part. A strong headache and pain in his joints had flared up just before they had crossed the river. There was no need to continue their journey exhausted.

"Perhaps we should make camp for the night," Silas said, his voice strained.

Violet set her lantern down and sighed. "I am relieved to hear you say it, my lord."

"I'll start a fire. You'll need warmth before you catch a fever in this chill air."

"Indeed," Violet replied as she rung some water out from her skirt.

Silas climbed down from Homer, and as his feet hit the ground, a sharp pain shot out from his injured shoulder. He groaned loudly as a wave of pain rippled throughout his body, causing him to grip Homer's saddle to keep steady on his feet.

"Cutter, what's wrong?" Violet asked, running quickly to his side.

"Pain ... from my shoulder," Silas grunted. "... and all over my body as well."

"Come on, sit down while I start a fire," Violet insisted, grabbing him by his elbow and leading him to a grassy area near the river bank.

Silas sat down and rested his aching head on his knees. Violet quickly gathered her flint stones and some tinder from her pack. Once the fire was started and sufficiently blazing, Violet sat down beside him and removed the linen bandage on his shoulder. She grabbed her lantern and inspected Silas' wound in the orange glow. Violet let out a quick gasp and her eyes bulged.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Silas asked, but did not wait for Violet's reply. He looked down at his right shoulder and saw the puncture wound where the Draknoir arrow had pierced him was swelled into a purplish-blue lump. Pus was oozing out of the wound and the skin surrounding it was a dark pink color.

"This isn't right," Violet said, rubbing her forehead. "I cleaned your wound thoroughly and applied salve, it shouldn't be infected."

Silas swallowed hard. "It's poison. The Draknoir arrows must have been poisoned. A slow death, they relish that."

"No, you're not going to die," Violet said, her jaw tightened. "I know how to create an antidote for poisons like this. We need a Potma weed and coriander oil."

"Potma weed?" Silas asked.

"Yes—but it doesn't grow here," Violet said, sighing heavily. "We must get to my cottage immediately. Your shoulder looks grievous, but the salve may have given us more time. How do you feel currently?"

"My head aches and so do my limbs. I feel quite tired, even though I've done nothing to help you today." Silas shot her a smirk.

"I'm not the one who needs help, Cutter," Violet said, a bemused smile on her face. "We should rest a bit, but then be on our way. I'll try to guide us through easy territory to ease your pain."

 "Thank you, Violet." Silas placed his head on his knees again and closed his eyes, trying to block out the increasing pain in his body.

As he rested, Violet retrieved her salves and applied them to the wound after cleaning it again. Silas bit his lip hard as Violet treated his shoulder and wrapped it tightly in a fresh linen bandage. Once she was finished, he lay down with his back on the damp grass and surveyed the stars above. He tried to relax despite the pain, but he found himself watching Violet busy herself with the fire instead.

 She collected a few more twigs and fallen branches from the trees nearby to throw into the small hearth she had created near Silas. The fire crackled loudly as the fresh wood was consumed by the flames; Violet stood close with her arms outstretched to warm her body and dry her wet clothes. In the dancing light of the fire, Silas gazed at Violet's face and saw her beauty for the first time. Her face was heart-shaped with a slightly upturned nose that perfectly complimented her high cheekbones and full, bow-shaped lips. Violet's gaze moved from watching the fire toward his direction and Silas immediately closed his eyes, feigning sleep to avoid her detection. When he slowly reopened his eyes a few seconds later, Violet had moved over by Homer and she was talking to the horse in a soft voice. Silas could not make out her words, and as he attempted to listen closer, he felt a sudden drowsiness overtake him. His eyes closed once more and he slipped into a peaceful sleep on the grass near the Dulan.

ELEVEN

The Blacksmith's Cottage

“Are you ready?" Siegfried asked, securing the contents of his pack before

slinging it onto his back.

Lucius nodded and slung his own heavy pack over his shoulders as they exited the doors of Griffin's Head. The previous night they had visited the Crimson Eagle and picked up the wineskins and supplies Eldred had been holding for them. Siegfried's smile was wide and his eyes gleamed when Eldred handed him their wineskins, but Lucius could not figure out why and the elf was an expert at keeping his thoughts to himself. He had not spoken to Lucius at all about Lumiath or the seer's allegations concerning D'arya. Their conversations frequently centered on their imminent departure to see the blacksmith or the bottle of
bywydur
that had enthralled Siegfried. Lucius asked his brother when they were actually going to use the elixir, hoping to get Siegfried to stop talking about it. The elf grinned at the question and told him to be patient.

After walking down the sloping hill where Griffin's Head stood, they soon reached the center square and walked past the towering statues of the man and elf. Near the statues stood the town well where an old man and his wife were drawing water into clay jars. Siegfried unhooked the wineskin hanging from his belt and walked toward the well, motioning for Lucius to follow. Once the elderly couple had finished filling their pots, the old man handed the wooden drawing bucket to Siegfried. The elf tossed the bucket into the dark mouth of the well and a faint splash followed from below. Siegfried grabbed the rope dangling from a pulley on the wooden bar above the well and pulled laboriously until the bucket appeared into view. Siegfried placed the full bucket on the lip of the stone well and dunked his empty wineskin into the water. He instructed Lucius to do the same, and after both wineskins were filled, Siegfried pulled out the vial of
bywydur
for his brother to see.

"Now you shall see the significance of this centuries-old elixir, Lucius," Siegfried said as he pulled off the cork stopper from the bottle. He gently let a drop of the shimmering liquid fall into his wineskin.

"If this will finally keep you from talking about this infernal elixir, then I'm anxious to oblige you," Lucius replied, allowing his brother to place a drop of
bywydur
in his wineskin.

"Now take a sip, brother." Siegfried leaned his head back and drank a small amount of the mixture.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and sniffed the drink, but did not smell anything questionable. He squared his shoulders and took a sip from his wineskin. He immediately felt a strong tingling sensation surge through his body, starting in his belly and extending to his fingertips and toes. The muscles in his arms and legs became taut and stronger than before. He felt as though he could fight a thousand enemies and strike them down without growing tired.