Young Writers Society

Master Kenway was an aging man, tall and limber with hair that had long since parted down the middle leaving two puffy white clouds of hair to line the sides of his head. He was dressed in a thick black scholarly robe tied with a fraying rope belt. He looked very much like a professor or wizard of children's stories might appear. He showed no interest in helping Devlin and Malcolm, but he obliged to let them into a large moon-shaped room on the first floor of the keep lined with bookshelves. A few tall but narrow windows - made this way to allow for defenders to shoot arrows while giving no entryway for attackers - provided slats of light, but the shelves were broken up by several lanterns along the walls.

"We're looking for anything you have on the architecture and waterways leading into the city," Devlin said before Kenway could ask what they wanted.

He said "ah," in a rather pompous way, Devlin thought, and beckoned them with his thinning hand to the edge of a shelf near one of the lamps. He gestured the length of the shelf which had to house at least five hundred books across three long shelves. They were various in color and size, but most of them were dusty and worn.

"Not exactly the cream of the crop for reading?" Devlin said with a wry grin.

Kenway simply pointed his nose up and folded his hands.

"You may take the next two hours and look around as you wish. I will be in the room on the other side of the hallway. Do not disturb the silence, and if I found one page ripped or one cover cracked, I will have your heads."

Malcolm half-grinned at Devlin at first, thinking it a joke no doubt, but Kenway's raised eyebrow at him brought that to an abrupt end.

Devlin simply nodded. "Thank you for the time, Master Kenway. We'll keep your books in good care."

Kenway floated away, or at least it looked that way as his rigid posture never changed, and his feet remained hidden beneath his robe. Malcolm shook his head.

“Bit of an odd one,” he said quietly, perhaps still wary that the scholar would come back in to scold him.

Devlin turned to the bookshelf and began running his hands over the spines of the books. “You’ll find plenty of odd ones out here in the world. Once you get away from your little village you begin to see just how big this world is. But for now, we must concentrate on Atheron, and Atheron alone. Can you read, Malcolm?”

Malcolm shuffled his feet. “Not exactly.”

Devlin waved a hand, never turning his back. No need to scrutinize the boy. “I wouldn’t have either, but there was a wise man in my town who was quite gracious with the youths and taught them all sorts of writing and reading.”

“Was he like Master Kenway?’

“Only in that he also lost the war for his hair at a young age. He was a rather cheerful man. Lots of energy and always ready to explain or show us something new that he had found in his countless hours behind his desk.” Devlin smiled, thinking back on those simpler times as a child. “I think if he could see me now, he would be truly joyous to see that his efforts spent on me were not for naught.” He pursed his lips. “Did you have any learning?”

“A bit, before my mum passed away. She was from a sea merchant family and so had access to lots of interesting people in her time. She didn’t know everything, but she taught me what she could. I didn’t take to it though. Didn’t see the need up in Potter’s Creek.”

“You’ll find that it comes in quite handy down here,” Devlin said, wiping the cover of a deep blue book. It was about the mountains to the west, so he placed in back on the shelf. “Did your mother pass away?”

“When I was still young. A fever got her.”

Devlin’s shoulders sank. It seemed that so many were without parents or siblings in this war-torn land, and whether taken by the war itself, or plague and pestilence, they were needed more now than ever for this new crop of young men and women who would be the future.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It seems unfair that my family is safe at home while so many of you here have suffered.” Devlin sighed. “If we can stop Eridan than at least some things can be set right.”

Malcolm pulled out a particularly large, yellowed book. He let it slide through his hands against his chest to bear the weight, and let it drop onto a nearby table. It went faster than he thought, and the thud echoed in the room. His eyes went wide, and he looked back as if expecting Master Kenway to come rushing in. After a few tense moments they were sure they were in the clear and Devlin took a seat, blowing the dust off the cover.

A Surveyance of Topographical Features in the New World.

“It looks like you may have picked well,” Devlin said, opening the heavy cover and running his hand down the list of contents. He had to flip the page to find the section on waterways. After a few minutes of flipping back and forth he located the section of the book specific to the rivers in the region. There were very few drawings and so Malcolm leaned over in anticipation of a find.

An hour, and many flipped pages later, Devlin shut the book with a thud that signaled the finality of his finding. Devlin had mumbled and half-explained some things as he had read, but Malcolm hadn’t been able to follow and seemed to be waiting on the balls of his feet in anticipation of a more concrete explanation.

Devlin rubbed his eyes and stretched back in his chair with a groan. The dim light and intense focus on the pages had left him feeling hungry and mentally fatigued. Malcolm looked nothing like that. He shoved the enormous book back onto the shelf and held out his hands waiting for an explanation. Devlin noticed that he was quickly adapting to Devlin’s personality, and that he already seemed to know that giving a moment of space for Devlin to compose himself was better than asking a dozen questions immediately. Devlin appreciated that. He reminded himself that Malcolm had been in a mountain village with not much experience outside of that, and though he seemed impetuous and volatile, he clearly was intelligent enough to quickly learn how to interact with others. Not everyone did that, and it was worth noting.

“Alright,” he said, rising and heading for the Red Keep entrance. He kept his voice low. Some might think that in a place as fortified and ‘safe’ as this that the nature of the discussion was safe for all ears, but as Devlin had discovered early on in life, it’s in the safest places that the most discretion is often needed.

“There are five wells in and around the city. Two are on the northern side and outside the city palisade. One is to the southeast, also outside the city limits. There is one within the city near the eastern gate that is believed to be connected to an underground spring with no known caves or off-shoots from the rivers. That leaves just the one well here in the Red Keep that at one point had access to the outside and is located within the walls.”

“And you surmise that he wouldn’t use the other four?” Devlin did his best to try to whisper.

“It does him no good to use a well outside the palisade. It he wishes to come barging through a gate he has three options, all of which are heavily fortified.”

“But the magistrate said that the well here has been caved in, and the last well is nothing but a hole in the ground. So where will Eridan come from?”

Devlin wrung his hands. “I don’t know. And it bothers me. But he got two of his men inside the city walls, and that can’t be a coincidence.”

“Perhaps they are to create a distraction, or to open one of the gates?” Devlin offered.

They were now at the door. Stepping out led them into the crisp afternoon air. Malcolm began walking towards the gate heading back down into the city, but Devlin laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Just a moment.”

Malcolm looked up with a quizzical look on his face as he squinted from the cold and light breeze. “Shouldn’t we head to find Miles and the girls? We’ve been gone a long time.”

Devlin scrunched his brows. Perhaps he was being paranoid. Eridan’s followers may have snuck in to do just as Malcolm had said, but an assault on any gate in the city would be a staggering task, even for a man with Eridan’s powers. They would not only have to gain a foothold in the entrance with under half a dozen men, but then move their way through the city and up the steep climb to the keep before somehow taking control of that as well. There would no doubt be townsfolk who would join his side as the fight progressed, but many would simply be confused.

And what were his motives here? The Astorian army lay to the north in the Plains of Cahl, several days journey from here. He was coming here for a reason, and the only way for him to succeed would be a complete domination of the city. Even if it was his city, Xerdex would not rest until he had regained control.

Perhaps they’ll kill each other. Wouldn’t that be something.

“Devlin,” Malcolm said, bumping his arm. “What are we doing?”

Devlin shook his head. “Sorry, lost in thought. Malcolm, I need you to listen to me and to trust me. I want you to head back to the inn. Enjoy yourself but keep an eye out for anyone who looks like the men that were with Eridan.”

“And what about you? You can’t stay here.”

“I can if no one knows I’m here. But enough of that. You just get back home. Tell Miles to proceed as if everything is tranquil. No need for anything to seem out of the ordinary. His musical show should bring out the best in people. They’ll have a looser tongue and a merrier temperament. Keep your eyes peeled and your ears open.”

Malcolm looked at the gate once more, where Redling had been replaced by a younger, much smaller guard. “You think they’ll want to know why you aren’t by my side?”

“If he asks, simply tell him that you were too boisterous for Master Kenway, and he gave you the option of leaving now or making a date with the gallows in the morning. Something tells me that it’ll come as no surprise to hear that.”

Devlin smirked. He had a feeling that Kenway had a reputation for his uptight nature, and he could easily imagine such a scenario have taken place with one of the apprentices or younger guards in the keep. Malcolm nodded, a bit unsure of himself, and took off for the gate. Devlin made sure to slide back inside the keep in case the guard looked back this way. He surveyed the entryway now for the first time with purpose. The main winding staircase sat directly ahead, with the library off to the left where they had been for the last hour, and a similar looking room to the right where Kenway had disappeared into earlier.

Devlin entered that new room, squinting as his eyes adjusted back to the dim light from the stark outside winter sun. He spotted a dark figure bending near a shelf in the back lined with scrolls and charts tied with ribbons. He cleared his throat. Master Kenway stood straight, smoothing out his robe and turning.

“Yes?” he asked dryly.

Devlin gave a half-smile. “I’ve sent the young lad away. He became something of a nuisance with his questions and disorderly manner with the books. Rest assured nothing is damaged, but if he had stayed, I cannot promise that it would have remained that way.”

Kenway shook his head. “So many are not raised in any sort of dignified manner. It seems that you have some training in the etiquettes of socialization though?”

Devlin shrugged. “A little. I had a good mentor in my childhood.”

Kenway slowly nodded. “It goes a long way. What we have here in this land is a result of the opposite. Men stopped talking, stopped disciplining themselves as civilized countrymen, and now war has ravaged both our homes and our libraries. So much of this land has not been explored and will not be for years because of this violence.”

“Quite right. But as a soldier, I must tell you that it is now imperative that we end this bloodshed as soon as possible. It may have been men like me that started this war, but it will also be men like me that end it and bring balance back to my home.”

Kenway sighed and rubbed his temples. “You are of course right, though I loathe to admit it. A strong hand must take control of this situation and restore peace and honor and civility. If not, we’ll fall into more disrepair than Rael of old.”

Devlin laughed. “It is good to be in the company of a man as well-versed as yourself after being stuck up on an icy mountain with lowly privates and village-people. I must admit I could waste hours here discussing the nuances of this civil war and the ramifications it will have for years to come.”

Kenway let out the slimmest of smiles, the first time he had showed a positive emotion. “I may have misjudged you, for all my wisdom. I thought you nothing but a blundering soldier looking for a dreg of attention.”

Devlin held up his hands. “I’m sure you have your hands full with the like up here in this keep surrounded by nothing but barracks and blacksmiths. However, I’ll waste no more of your time. I’ll be in the library and be sure to see myself out when my two hours are up.”

Kenway waved a hand. “Bah, take as much time as you like. I’ll be headed out shortly, so simply take your leave at your convenience. I’ll let Ralph, the guard at the gate, know that you may be staying late. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to talk at greater lengths if your stay here is extended.”

Devlin smiled. “I’d like that.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what brought you to this town? I’ve been hearing chatter, but better to hear it from the source,” Kenway said as he began to blow out the candles on the desks and lanterns on the walls.

Devlin hesitated. Talking to him had been a simple plan to see if there was an area in here to hide out and wait for nightfall so he could keep an eye on the courtyard and well. He hadn’t expected the invitation to stay as long as he wanted, and alone no less.

“I have reason to believe that a certain man may attempt to breach this city. He doesn’t have many men, and I believe that he may use secret passageways or waterways as an entrance point.”

“One man you say? Seems rather foolish to attempt an overtaking.”

Devlin bit his lip. Should he tell him?

“Have you ever heard of the Black Bull?”

Master Kenway rubbed his chin.

“Of course. It’s an old folk tale, a child’s story really. What does it have to do with Atheron?”

“It may be something more than that.”

“Something more, how?” Kenway asked, blowing out the last of the candles and leaving them in waning sunlight through the narrow windows. The room seemed colder and emptier already.

“Call me crazy, but he has a sword. Not just any sword. He seems,” and here Devlin scoffed at himself for the absurdity of it, “he seems to be able to control the weather with it. Or at the very least the wind.”

Kenway chuckled. “He’s got a magic sword?”

“I don’t know. Magic isn’t real. At least I did not think it to be,” Devlin said exacerbated at the reality of what he had objectively seen.

Kenway chuckled again. “Maybe, maybe not. There are certainly fairytales and horror stories of it. But you are right that here in Velhurland we’ve never seen the likes of it anywhere. But there are shrines we’ve not yet deciphered. They seem to link to civilization that may have been here a long time ago.”

“I’ve never heard of those.”

Kenway shook his head. “Most pay them no mind in many regards. They have runes we have not deciphered. I believe there are at least 3 that have been found in all these years.”

Devlin leaned in, now more than just curious. “And what would these have to do with magic or magical items?”

“Well, there is a shrine up in the Agressi flatstones, near the peaks of the highest summits. Seems that there was a stone mold for a sword at the base of an old totem pole. Best as scholars and adventurers can tell the runes seem to point to an otherworldly force endowing power upon a weapon forged in that mold. There is a set of paintings, carvings that tell a story something akin to a set of trials, and the survivor is rewarded with a sword from the stone if he survives them.”

Devlin hung on to every word. “The flatstones are on the north side, past the border?”

Kenway nodded. “Wild, remote, barren of tree or shrub. Nearly impossible to live up there.”

“About as impossible as a supernatural sword,” Devlin added softly. “Is there any description of the sword? Any mention of armor?”

Kenway laughed. “These runes are old, and finding a key to unlocking there meaning has alluded us to this day. You think that your infiltrator is an ancient god with a magical sword?”

“Or a man who lost everything and was desperate enough to be pushed to the brink of death to get back what he lost. Tell me. Does this supernatural being have a name?”

“If it’s in the runes we have no way of telling. But there is one name that’s been found scratched on rocks and cave walls up there.”

“Is that name Vera?”

Kenway’s eyes widened slightly. “As a matter of fact, it is. Although many have argued over the pronunciation of it. But how did you know?”

“Because I heard it before. Right before Eridan sent a group of soldiers flying through the sky like a cluster of leaves.” Chills ran down Devlin’s spine. The more he found at, the worse this all seemed. But a picture was forming, of exactly who their enemy was.

“Kenway, do any of those carving, those pictographs, show just how powerful someone could be with that sword?”

Kenway shrugged. “Most depict the journey of the man, not what comes after. Vera is depicted as radiant, winged creature like a man, often hovering above the hero on his journey.”

“What if he gives his power out to the hero who survives the trials? What if Eridan could fly?”

Kenway inhaled deeply. “Then no wall could keep him out.”

Devlin’s mind went back to the well. “No height would be an obstacle for him. And as I’ve already seen, no physical barrier has stopped him yet.”

“He’d be nearly unstoppable,” Kenway affirmed.

But he was a man. Devlin had to believe that. “Nearly.”