Salt, Sky, and Fire (Tales from the Bestiary: The Founding 1)
CHAPTER ONE
I RAN FAR FROM MY HOME and family, leaving behind a part of me I thought never to find again.
Until a dragon calling me to war led me to reclaim that missing piece of my heart.
From Ozora’s personal journal.
“Enjoy your walk, Ozora!” Cedric waved as I closed the door to my little cottage. I waved back at my friend, who continued up the path toward town, while I turned in the opposite direction.
The sun was headed toward the sea, but there was still enough light for a walk, and I needed one to clear my head. Too many thoughts had built up, so I sought the fresh air and sound of the waves to drive them away.
I’d lived in Emberglen for almost a year now, and my feet were restless. I hadn’t stayed in one place for years, and, yes, I’d grown to love it there. It was safe and comfortable. My home was a luxury mages of my skill level dream of, and this was the second time I’d been so fortunate.
Journey mages, like me, typically had to travel far and wide to sell their services. Potions, powders, and bespelled scrolls and trinkets were things everyone needed but, in most towns, sales stopped once the good people purchased your goods.
However, Emberglen was a beautiful coastal town filled with lovely residents and a steady stream of visitors, thus a never-ending flow of customers for my magical wares. The downside? I was just a teensy bit bored.
How can I be bored with this? The view of the ocean meeting the sky as I strolled down my lane toward the cliffs was spectacular.
Bright blue skies, pleasant temperatures almost all year, and no snows made Emberglen’s location nearly perfect.
People paid a lot of money to visit and taste the wines the region was famous for, while my arrival and continued residence were sheer luck.
I should be making tithes to Oone for my good fortune.
But, there I was, wondering if it was time to move on.
I’d arrived last year with a caravan, and Cedric, the mayor’s eldest son, hired me to banish a nasty demon.
The spirit took up residence in the mayoral mansion, and made the fine house unlivable.
He invited me to stay once the demon was gone, and went to extravagant lengths to express his gratitude.
As added enticement, he coaxed his father to gift me the empty cottage of Emberglen’s late midwife, who’d passed the season before.
Why would I say no? Cedric was charming, persuasive, and a handsome man’s attentions were welcome after a long, lonely spell.
We both knew neither of us were serious, simply enjoying each other’s company.
Last year’s summer fling faded, but my clientele grew and grew.
I had no good reason to leave where I was successful and welcomed. Just a nagging that this wasn’t enough.
I wanted more, and it wasn’t there in Emberglen.
Training in advanced magics wasn’t easy or cheap; learning potent spells took cash to pay for the lessons and an Adept mage to teach them.
Plenty of cash flowed through Emberglen and into my pockets but Adepts congregated in the kingdom’s capitol city, not cozy coastal resorts. Here was safe, comfortable.
Dull. Late afternoon sunlight warmed my shoulders, and the fresh, salty air called me onward, bidding me let go such gloomy cares.
My home sat at the far edge of town, away from the cafés and shops that filled the bustling center.
It was a short walk from my front door to the cliffs overlooking the waves.
Leaving my neighbor’s cottages behind, I followed the packed dirt path through fields of tall waving grasses that brushed against my cotton skirts.
The salty breeze lifted a few locks off my face, and I inhaled its freshness, hoping it would carry away my heavy thoughts.
I followed the trail down a set of stairs cut into the cliffside, and once I reached the beach, peeled off my sandals and walked through the shallow wavelets that ran up the shore. The water against my skin was soothingly cool, and I took another deep breath, releasing all my worries into the sea.
Calm rippled through me, akin to coming home, at the water’s touch.
The Sundering Sea was far from my family in the Caradare Mountains.
They were several months' journey through a few neighboring kingdoms from the inland borders of Alurenth, and further still from Emberglen on the coast. No one in this seaside town had ever seen the giant of eagles of my clan, nor could they imagine how it felt to soar over forest and peak.
Longing for what I’d lost tugged at my soul, added upon the strange sensation that pulled me back to the ocean.
Here? Making hangover potions and potency powders for the overindulgent and over-libidinous?
That’s some kind of destiny. I snorted at my mocking but accurate inner dialogue.
It was steady work, crafting simple cures and trinkets, and after all these months I made them with minimal effort or thought.
Bliss for my good fortune overrode boredom and doubt for a time but, they’d become nearly constant companions recently.
Hence my dilemma: Should I stay or go? I enjoyed my peaceful life, but craved more.
Despite having the ability to cast advanced magics, and even with the required coin, I still needed an Adept-level mage to teach the spells.
One I had, one I didn’t, and all the schools that taught Adept-level magics were far away and far out of my reach.
I combed my fingers through my hair, and wove it into braids against the fresh onshore breeze of approaching night. It soothed me to occupy my hands while I wrestled with my thoughts.
There are worse places to settle than a seaside resort for wineries, you know. I was my worst critic, the only scold I could not escape. My voice of reason was right, but it was more than the desire for advanced training that troubled me.
The colors of night crept in from the east behind the hills.
They chased the sun into the waters and left a brilliant explosion of reds, oranges, and golds painted across the clouds and waves.
Soft sand slid beneath my toes, and I passed a tall promontory that stuck out into the surf where the cliffs marched into the waterline.
Emberglen vanished, blocked by the towering stone wall, but my troubles still plagued me.
It usually wasn’t this hard for me to pick up and leave a place, and truthfully, I considered staying permanently. Until I heard the latest news out of Hastrior. The port city sat to the south of Emberglen, and guarded the westernmost point of the continent of Athypsos'inar.
Emberglen was far enough north of Hastrior’s peninsula that it took a while for gossip to circulate, but once it got there, my concerns amplified.
I had a history there that was painful to revisit.
I’m sure a good chunk of my restlessness came from a need to get further away from the bigger city as news of its deterioration spread up the coast.
Of course, there were rumors about Fraser before I came to Emberglen.
Hearing them on the road, inland and far from the sea, they were just stories on top of stories, and I was very far away from the infamous pirate.
For five years, outlandish tales circulated of the man I’d left behind in Hastrior, but to discern truth from embellishment? Impossible.
Mostly, I ignored the stories that had all but vanished by the time I returned to the coast. Emberglen had nothing to tempt the mercenary Fraser Connell, and no one had seen him in years, so I felt safe living close to the sea.
A few months ago, other, more disturbing stories trickled in, of the city falling into ruin. As time passed and more reports circulated, it became obvious Hastrior was in dire trouble, and its plunge into chaos only fueled my need to get far away.
Just not tonight. Maybe Emberglen is far enough away. I was in a different kingdom after all, and Hastrior was an independent principality.
The stars appeared, tiny glimmers in the spreading cloak of dusk, and I couldn't bring myself to turn for home. Walking soothed away my gloomy thoughts, and it was nigh impossible to stay upset on a gorgeous summer night. The breeze was a soft caress, and the waves’ sweet music lulled my fears.
I’d walked this beach many times; even in the dark, its landmarks were familiar, and the night called for me to stay. I shook my head to dismiss my concerns.
Nothing I can do about it right now, so I might as well enjoy my walk.
The cliffs smoothed out, leaving behind low dunes covered in waving grasses and a line of scrub oak that followed the shore a few yards behind the dunes. Fairies sometimes danced in the grasses under the moonlight, but my timing was off. Neither moon was overhead.
From further down the beach came the unmistakable sounds of a boat grinding ashore, its hull dragging over the sand.
Darkness hid what I could only hear, carried across the water; the creak of the boat’s timbers, and the boots that splashed through the low lapping waves.
The voices didn’t speak the common tongue or any other language I knew but, one or two words plucked at my memory.
I slipped a translation amulet from my belt pouch and ran my thumb over it, feeding it a thread of my numin as I whispered the triggering cantrip.
Slight tingling accompanied the flow of my magic energies, down my thumb, into the metal and gem disc while my words released the spell bound into the amulet.
Once it glowed brightly to my magesight, fully charged, I cut off the flow of numin and slid it back into my pouch.
Now activated, the spell would translate until the energy I’d fed the amulet was used up.
“Di’kutla huumans. Tion’solet jaeta coeletra?” Stupid humans. How many will we kill this fine evening? Their speech warped, then became intelligible as the spell took effect.
I’d studied Cilirian elvish, poring over their books during my training, but this wasn’t the lyrical, flowing speech of the powerful elves that once ruled the entire world. It sounded somewhat elvish, but was more guttural, harsh, as if they bit off their words.
There was one possibility, and it was chilling. It also wasn’t supposed to be real.
The stories said the Crimson Birth had their own language, and the only ones who spoke it were those trusted by the emperor, or the Crimson Birth themselves. It ensured that only the emperor commanded them. They would not follow any order unless given in their own dialect of elvish.
Can’t be.
I didn’t want it to be true. Didn’t want to face what that implied, but no elves in any of the kingdoms of Athypsos'inar spoke that guttural tongue, nor did they have ships.
My heart did a double-tap, the ships meant these elves must have come from across the Sundering Sea. They had to be the Crimson Birth. But how? The emperor was supposed to be dead, along with his empire.
The dark shadows of the tall cliffs at my back kept the invaders from spotting me so far, but I hadn’t survived journeying alone without learning caution.
I cast a glamour spell, and hid my form by wrapping a blanket of numin around me.
Obedient to my silent will and hand gestures, my magical energies coursed around and enveloped me, to render me invisible.
Those outside my glamour would see only the dark, empty beach.
It took all my concentration, though, and it was all I could cast as I made my way toward the forest beyond the dunes. My translation amulet continued to hum in my belt pouch; already activated, it didn’t need my continuous attention.
Once in their protective shadows, I crept between the trees, toward the voices on the beach.
Emberglen wouldn’t survive these marauders unless they were warned, and I was the only one who knew the town was in danger.
The rocky outcropping I’d passed hid the ship, so they’d never see them coming and wouldn’t stand a chance against these deadly attackers.
Though the night was dark, the elves didn’t carry torches or magelights.
I released the glamour hiding me since I was safe within the trees, ending the spell with another brief gesture but, I wanted a better view of the beach so I could tell Cedric what to expect.
A quick whisper and another thread of my numin spun from my fingers and encircled my eyes as I cast my owl vision spell.
This one allowed me to see greater detail in the dark and further than my own eyes, but like my glamour, it took all my attention.
I crouched low behind a clump of bushes clustered around the base of tree, and peered between the leaves.
There on the beach was a large ship filled with elvish warriors climbing out onto the sand. Two additional ships waited further out beyond the crashing waves. Dark sails on dark water when neither of the two moons crossed the night sky.
This was intentional. They’d timed this.
Why? Why would they invade? How are they even real?
My thoughts spun. The most trusted histories described Cilirian elves as near-immortal beings of light and grace that were definitely as extinct as their empire.
There weren’t supposed to be any Cilirians after the Sundering, let alone their ravenous army, the Crimson Birth.
Such stories were just that, fictional tales to astonish, not some actual terror invading my home.
The elvish warriors moved quietly, and spoke amongst themselves of their certain victory, bent on conquest and enslavement. I need to warn Cedric and the rest.
Before I could retrace my steps, I flew to my feet, my hair clenched in the fist of a leering Cilirian elf.
“Tasty snack out here all alone?” The translation amulet conveyed the elf’s depraved intentions with horrible accuracy.
A squeak escaped my lips. I grasped his wrists with both hands out of pure reflex, seeking to scratch or claw my way free but, he held me far too easily.
My toes barely scraped the dirt and his thick bicep didn’t even quiver as he drew me closer.
Terror spun through me, not just for myself, but for my home.
How could I warn Cedric if I couldn’t get away from this dreadful invader?