The Blade Heir (Book 1) (11 page)

After a hearty meal and some ale, Lucius and Siegfried went back into town. Lucius would have preferred resting in their room, since he was very full and satiated, but Siegfried insisted they meet someone in the city before sunset. He had been refused the identity of the mystery man or woman they were to meet, his brother quietly dismissing all of his questions.

The city was quiet and there weren't many people wandering the streets like before. He wondered if the guards' tale about trouble in the city was a reason for the early retiring of the townsfolk. He suddenly wished he had his sword, despite the fact the sun had not yet vanished into the horizon. Siegfried led the way from The Griffin's Head down the cobblestone road and into the marketplace. Vendors had gone home for the day, their stands lay barren and their wagons were nowhere to be seen. They walked toward the gate of Sylvania, which Lucius noticed from this range had been shut and bolted for the evening.

When the two arrived near The Crimson Eagle, Siegfried stopped. Laughter and commotion came out from inside the pub's opened doors. Drunks, no doubt,
Lucius thought. He turned to his elven brother, but realized he had begun walking in the opposite direction to the blacksmith's tent. Siegfried peered inside the tent but saw no one inside. A black anvil stood like a miniature monolith inside the tent. Hilts, pommels, and unfinished weapons lay scattered on the floor.

"Are you looking for the old blacksmith?" a voice behind Siegfried asked.

Siegfried turned around and saw an old man with a long beard reaching to his chest looking over at him, "Yes, I am."

The old man cleared his throat and pointed a crooked finger at the Crimson Eagle. "After work, he always stops to get a pint or two ... or three," he cackled, clearly drunk himself.

"Thanks for the tip, old man," Lucius said, standing near enough to smell the ale on the man's breath.

"Love to be of help," he gave a quick gesture as if tipping an invisible hat on his ragged white head. The old man jogged away, tripping and stumbling every so often before he was out of sight.

"A blacksmith—of course. My mind has been all over the place and I forgot about that," Lucius confessed, thinking of the prophecy Helmer had recited to him.

"What sort of things were you lingering on?" Siegfried asked with inquisitive eyes.

A flash of Kraegyn's sapphire eyes entered into his mind. "Nothing. I ... I've been thinking about my family and whether or not there are any who are still alive. I've also been a bit overwhelmed by seeing my own kind wandering about rather than the D'aryan elves. It's all so new and different."

"I understand your feelings, Lucius. Do not worry. There will be much that you and I will encounter on this quest that will be different than anything either of us is used to," the elf placed his hand on his shoulder. "I assure you that if there are any relatives of yours who still live, we shall find them."

Lucius nodded, "Thank you, Siegfried."

"Croesi," Siegfried welcomed him in the elven language. "Now, let us tend to the pressing matters at hand."

They approached the opened doorway of the Crimson Eagle and entered. The air inside was humid, and the tavern had an eerie glow provided by the fireplace. Drunks in the rear of the main room broke into song, hitting their mugs together and downing whole pints. Lucius and Siegfried walked up to the counter, searching for the bartender who was absent from his post. He suddenly came out from a storage room behind the counter, and they were surprised to see he was an elf. He was graceful as he walked to the end of the counter where they stood. Deep green eyes, blonde flowing hair, and pale skin made him seem like a ghost who haunted the Crimson Eagle.

"What beverages would suit my lords this evening?" the elf spoke placidly.

"No beverages for the moment," Siegfried replied, searching the other elf's face in hopes of recognition. "Tell me, what is your name, friend?"

"I am Eldred of Numa, son of Fel-alya," he bowed his head slightly.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Eldred. I am Siegfried of the Silverhart clan of D'arya and son of Helmer," Siegfried bowed. "If I am not being too forward, Eldred, permit me to ask what a Numan elf is doing so far from the shores of the Zephyrs?"

"Not forward at all, Siegfried. The Numan elves have experienced quarreling within the royal family of Rubiwind. The twin heirs of the Rubiwind dynasty have turned on King Sikahr and staged a coup in the realm of Numa. The coup was thwarted, but now the princes are at war with their father. And the only competing heir, Princess Avani, has gone missing. Many suspect one of the princes has kidnapped her for ransom, since King Sikahr is very fond of his daughter. Some of my people have fled Numa since the warring began two winters past. It is a dreadful time for the Numan elves." Eldred's shoulders drooped slightly.

"I am sorry, Eldred. I had not heard of this crisis before now, and I doubt any of the Evingrad elves know of it. D'arya be with all of our kind," Siegfried whispered something under his breath in elvish, but Lucius could not make it out.

"The Elf Queen will bring peace back to Numa, in that I place my trust. For now, we can only wait and see what the future holds."

"Indeed," Siegfried nodded. "Now I wonder, Eldred, if you would care to help us?"

"Of course, what is it you need?" Eldred clasped his hands together, eager to help.

"We are searching for the blacksmith who works across the road. An old drunken man told us he would be here in the Crimson Eagle," Siegfried said.

"Oh yes, he's here. His name is Castor. That would be him in the back." Eldred pointed to a table nearest to the fireplace where a man sat reading.

"Thank you very much, Eldred." Siegfried bowed his head again and thanked him in the elven tongue.

Eldred bowed his head in return, also speaking something in elvish to Siegfried, but it was spoken too fast for Lucius to understand.

They slowly made their way to the back table, walking past shaggy drunks who made lousy jokes at them and others who had completely past out on their tables.

Castor didn't move when they stopped in front of his table. The red-haired and bearded man continued to read a piece of parchment without so much as glancing at them. He puffed on a wood pipe every few seconds and annoyingly cleared his throat each time.

Lucius lost his patience. "Pardon me, sir. Are you Castor, the blacksmith?"

The man looked up at him with fierce eyes, biting the end of his pipe.

"Who wants to know?" he asked defiantly.

"Lucius of Evingrad and my elven brother, Siegfried Lockhart," he opened his palm in the elf's direction, who bowed.

Castor placed the parchment down on the table and puffed on his pipe again, "Well, Lucius, what is it that you want? In case you hadn't noticed, it's past sunset and my business is done for the day."

Siegfried interjected before Lucius could retort, "I have merely a question to ask, Mr. Castor."

"A question?" Castor coughed on the pipe smoke. "What would that be?"

"I have heard you know a certain individual who is familiar with the forging of magical alloys for use in weaponry," Siegfried's eyes narrowed and looked menacing by the fire.

"I might know such a person, Master Lockhart," Castor crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "However, that information comes with a price."

Lucius frowned and suddenly grew irritated at the man. "How about a drink? Will that loosen your tongue?"

Castor glared at him and looked ready to strike him, but he did not.

"Forgive my friend, Mr. Castor. I am willing to pay for whatever information you can provide," Siegfried pulled several solidi from his belt pouch and placed them on the tabletop. "Will this do?"

"Yes, that'll do," Castor slipped the coins inside his jacket quickly. "The person you wish to find is on the outskirts of the city, just before entering the Burning Woods. Take the Barren Road north until you see a deer trail on your right. Follow it to the Burning Woods. But before getting there, you'll come to a cottage with a stable. A woman named Naomi will answer the door. Ask for the blacksmith, and you'll find who you're looking for."

Siegfried thanked the surly man, who ignored him and began reading his parchment again. Lucius wanted to say something, but Siegfried gestured for them to leave. They walked toward the front door of the Crimson Eagle, but Lucius stopped suddenly, recalling something significant.

"Lumiath," Lucius burst out. "Siegfried, we need to find the D'aryan seer, remember? I had completely forgotten."

Siegfried smirked, "I had not forgotten about the exile, brother."

"Oh really? Well, thank you for reminding me," Lucius said with a slight grimace. "So did Father reveal to you where he is in this city like that Castor fellow?"

"No, I am unsure of his whereabouts."

Lucius crossed his arms and glanced around the room, looking for someone who might help them find the D'aryan outcast, but his heart sank when he surveyed the drunken rabble in the room. Before he could make a snide remark about the patrons of The Crimson Eagle, he noticed Eldred polishing some glasses behind the counter.

"What is it, Lucius?" Siegfried asked.

Lucius shot him a quick smile and walked up to the elven bartender. "Hello again, Eldred."

"Hello," Eldred smiled and picked up another glass to polish.

"Tell me, Eldred. Do you know of an elf residing in Sylvania by the name of Lumiath?" Lucius leaned on the counter, eagerly awaiting the elf's response.

"Lumiath? Oh yes, I have heard of him. Many of the locals speak of him frequently, mostly rumors or hearsay. But as I understand it, he lives in seclusion and rarely leaves his home."

"Do you know where he lives in the city?" Siegfried asked.

"He lives in the Scarlet Quarter. It's the northeastern corner of the city where the affluent citizens reside. I believe his residence is in the loft above an alchemist shop called Greimane's," Eldred answered as he finished polishing the last glass.

"Excellent," Lucius said triumphantly. "Thank you for your help, Eldred."

"Of course, my dear sirs. Now, could I interest either of you in some ale or honey mead?" Eldred extended an open palm toward the liquor cabinet behind him.

"Tomorrow, perhaps, my friend," Siegfried replied. "It is late and we really should retire for the evening."

"Tomorrow it shall be, then," Eldred bowed his head and both Siegfried and Lucius bowed in return. Lucius then handed the bartender a silver coin for his trouble, and the two brothers made their way out of The Crimson Eagle.

It was dark outside and the stars were shining like blue diamonds above them. Torches on the guard posts of the city wall flickered in the chill breeze outside. They treaded back to Griffin's Head, neither one saying anything. Lucius felt the weariness of the day's traveling all of a sudden, and he eagerly awaited lying in his soft bed at the inn. Siegfried, however, was still alert as ever and walking with the same grace and stride since the morning.

"So would it be best if we sought out Lumiath in the morning?" Lucius broke the silence between them.

"Yes, that would be wise. I doubt he'll be eager to have visitors, but if what Father says is true, the seer should be willing to give audience to fellow exiles of Evingrad." The elf searched the streets for life as he talked, but not a soul stirred in the quiet city.

"Well, I'm eager to hear what he has to say about the prophecy and the Requiem Sword, so I hope he'll acquiesce to a meeting."

"I hope that as well, brother," Siegfried replied.

"That Castor fellow we met tonight, he could really use an education in manners," Lucius abruptly changed the subject.

"I've rarely met a blacksmith who wasn't rude or obnoxious," Siegfried admitted.

"Well, that should make our next meeting with the blacksmith on the outskirts of town all the more enchanting," Lucius said, batting a mosquito away from his face.

Siegfried stopped walking, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" He looked around them. They had stopped in the middle of the empty marketplace, which had an eerie atmosphere to it now in the darkness.

"There," Siegfried turned his gaze to one of the empty vendor's stands.

Lucius followed his line of sight and saw them. Two tall men crept out from behind the stands of the marketplace. They wore dark cloaks and covered their mouths with scarves. One of them held a small object in his hand as he neared them. Even in the dark of night, Lucius knew it was a dagger of some kind.

"Well, well, it seems we've found a few stragglers wandering our street," the man holding the dagger grinned wickedly.

"Indeed it does. Give us whatever valuables you be holding, mates, and we promise not to gut you," the second man sneered.

"Wonderful. A great time not to have our weapons with us," whispered Lucius.

Siegfried remained quiet and closed his eyes. He began reciting something in elvish.

"Hey. What's the elf doing? Give me your money." the thief with the dagger approached Siegfried, pointing his dagger towards the elf's chest.

Lucius lurched to stop the thief, but his partner came alongside him and held Lucius back. Siegfried opened his eyes and they glowed like amethyst stones in the night. He moved quicker than anything Lucius had ever seen. In seconds, he sidestepped the thief's stab and disarmed him speedily. In another second the man was on the ground unconscious, beaten by a barrage of punches and kicks. The other thief let go of Lucius, who was mesmerized by what he saw. The thief threw a punch, but it missed. Siegfried leapt in the air and spun with a kick to the man's face. The bandit went down hard and no longer moved except for the slow rising and falling of his chest as he breathed.