The Lost Eight, Duron Crejaro [best classic books of all time .TXT] 📗

knuckles in an effort to keep to the center of the river. Quickly they entered the rapids. The shallowness of the river along with the random jagged rock formations, causing the waters to slosh violently around them. White frothy spray splashed all around them. More then once they almost rolled. It was as if the water was angry with them, trying to take them under for daring to traverse it.

 

Finally, Creolis was forced to take over, using his Adrari fueled strength to hold the rudder. His entire body glowing the same pale opaque blue, sweat glistening on his brow. It gave him an almost ethereal look as he grunted and cursed under the strain of trying to retain control of the craft. Elris turned the small single square sail, in an effort to slow their rapid progress through the river. Years of practice or perhaps sheer luck carried them safely through the worst of the rapids. The current was still strong, but not dangerously so. Creolis nearly collapsed from the exhaustion of using his Adrari powers for so long. Elris took over as he slumped nearby resting quietly.

 

The Adrari he thought to himself. The supreme power of the mind. All citizens of Thyrinn possessed it to some degree. To Elris it was something like an echo of the magic lost two millennia ago, though just as dangerous. He pondered the caste system to it. There were three classes. The Ridrari were the most powerful, tested young and found to have immense potential. They were trained from a very young age, and eventually became the core of the Adrari ruling class of the Thyrinnian nation. Second was the Sidrari, like Creolis. He had an exceptional control of his abilities, but nothing rivaling that of the Ridrari. These were usually placed within the fighting ranks of Thyrinn, using their powers to augment the combat ability to varying degrees. Though since Elris had not seen him in years, he had no clue what he was actually capable of. The lowest was the Lidrari. These people could only use their minds to add umph to the most basic of mundane tasks. They in many ways treated as second-class citizens throughout much of the kingdom.

 

They traveled like this for several days. Taking turns at the rudder, sleeping in shifts and eating small meals. Occasionally they would stop and make camp on the shore, just to break the monotony and to hunt fresh game. At first the weather was mild and pleasant, the crisp green colors of fall on the plains of Calleron still holding on as best as they could. Soon however the icy fingers of winter would begin to expand from the Qemara, clutching the lands in their grasp all the way to the eastern coast of Amlily. After nearly ten days of travel down Allowyin, Creolis grew restless. Sitting about doing nothing most of the time just was not something that he was used to. Horseback, woods, hunting, swordsmanship training, these were his bread and butter. Sitting in a boat day after day was beginning to wear on him. He fidgeted trying to get comfortable as he stared off down the river.

 

"Don't worry Creolis," volunteered Elris, easily recognizing the discomfort his friend was suffering, "If my reckoning is right. It seems that we have completely left the Kynnorian foothills. We can disembark at our convenience; I’ll keep an eye out for somewhere suitable. That way we can pull the boat ashore and hide it from any prying eyes."

 

"Good! I’m sick to death of this wretched boat and the water. If I have to sit here much longer, I might just sink it myself."

 

Elris laughed a little, scanning down the riverbanks. Sure enough, within a few minutes he spotted an indention in the embankment, surrounded on all side by massive willow trees. Their long drooping thin leaves hung about the water like a curtain. Perfect he thought to himself, letting the current draw him closer before he steering them effortlessly within the shelter of the trees. Creolis leapt off with a small splash in the shallow water, tethering rope in hand. He pulled with his legs, dragging the boat up as far as he could onto the shore before tying it to a tree.

 

The two worked in unison, unpacking what little they had that would be useful as they continued on their journey. East Elris had said, and he was true to his word. A harsh pace they set, not knowing how far Belladria's forces had managed to go. Elris was ever vigilant as they marched, keeping a keen situational awareness on everything happening around him.

 

The two made their way eastward much faster then Creolis had expected. The flat grassy plains of Calleron made travel easy. Within just a few short days, they had already made it to the main road leading to the capital city of Calle. They crossed quickly, avoiding interaction with other travelers. There were not many people about though. Creolis did however; see one group that seemed to be traveling from Calle southeast along the road. To him they seemed bedraggled, as if they had traveled some great distance. As they disappeared from his view, he wondered to himself if they might be from Kynnory. His thoughts went to his parents, wondering if they had survived the devastation. He desperately hoped so. Giving a silent prayer to his patron goddess Kynny, The Goddess of Justice. He trudged on with Elris, the routine much the same as it had been on the boat. Creolis preferred it this way though, the open land, the working of his muscles, even the constant sleeping in open air.

 

It had only been a few days since they passed the main road of Calle when the unease started. It was Elris that noticed it first. They continued to press on, but Creolis felt Elris' apprehension growing. He also saw that he would occasionally glance behind him peering intently into the distance. It was as if he were waiting in trepidation for some phantasm to manifest behind them. During one of their nighttime stops, Creolis was sleeping. His dreams filled with visions of Kynnory burning. He tossed fitfully in his sleep, sweating profusely. A nudge broke him from his slumber. It caused him to jump violently to a sitting position, hand going for the sword laying at his side as his eyes focused. Elris squatted before him, finger to his lips in a silencing motion. He pointed to Creolis, then his own eyes, then off to a small ridge on their right.

 

Creolis nodded slowly drawing his Ejora blade from its sheath making as little noise at possible. It was easily the largest broadsword Elris had ever seen. Most men would have carried it two handed. The hilt was twice the length of most he had ever seen. At the end was a large topaz that glittered a strange almost putrid yellow in the green moonlight. It was the week of Dalsor, a name coming from legends of old. The name referred to the time of the month when for a single week, the moon Repik gracefully crept across the sky, faintly visible even during the day. The moon was huge in the night sky, easily encompassing nearly a fifth of the heavens. The entire moon shone with a deep green light, casting a pale barely visible green light upon Mris. During these few days, the powers of the Adrari were intensified too no small degree.

 

Together the two, who had been lighting no fire, slowly made their way in the almost darkness of the moonlight towards the ridge. To late they realized that the cover was not enough. A twang reverberated through the stillness of the night. An arrow whizzed by Creolis narrowly missing. All pretense of stealth faded from them. Instantly Creolis' entire body began to glow with the familiar pale opaque blue, the edges rimmed in the shallow green light of the moon. It gave him a wraithlike otherworldly appearance in his battle regalia as he shot past Elris. He crested the ridge first, the Adrari flowing through him. As he hit the top of the small hill he leaped, the topaz flared with a bright light as he did. An ethereal blade of energy flowed through the topaz extending outward creating a flaring ghostly mirror image of the Ejora as he did. The three men illuminated by the unearthly light shrank back as he glided through the air. They stumbled backwards down the ridge, covering their faces.

 

The ghostly blade took the first man in the shoulder next to his chest, a scorching sizzle resounded as it sliced through bone and muscle as if it was butter. No blood sprayed from the wound, the kinetic energy cauterizing the wound as the blade flowed. The man fell wordlessly, a scream locked in death upon his lips. The other two had dropped their bows, shocked at the sudden assault. A small rapier and a short sword flashed before Creolis' frantic eyes. The rapier stabbed forward in haste, a small stiletto managed to catch in just in time before his frenzied eyes.

 

He wasted no time, switching his grip and bringing the heavy blade over his head towards the other remaining assailant. The man barely managed to bring his short blade up in time to knock the blow to the side. The adrenalin would not be stopped. The blade came around, its phantasmal copy catching him in the ankle, not only severing the limb, but also continuing the blades fluid momentum around in one motion. The solid blade hit him in the right shoulder. A crunch filled his ears, the sound barely registering between the loud thump of blood in his ears. Bone stopped the real blade abruptly causing himself to tumble forward with the assailant. A couple of rolls later they came to a rest, Creolis panted heavily. He looked down at the figure he was nearly straddling, only slight convulsions wracked the body as shock from his injuries stole what remained of his vitality, silently he died.

 

Creolis looked over, beginning to regain himself. The blocked rapier had belonged to Elris, who had pushed himself to his limits to close the gap created by Creolis’ Adrari fueled rush. The third man obviously terrified by the Adrari, and having had his kill shot blocked by that oddly fashioned stiletto turned after giving Elris a quick kick to the sternum. He ran as if his very life depending on it, which it very much did. Struggling for breath, Elris rolled around on the ground gasping. Creolis ran over, making sure he had not been seriously injured. Without thought, he grabbed Elris' bow and knocked an arrow. He fired, taking almost no time to aim. A smile of satisfaction as it hit the fleeing man quickly faded as he saw it catch him only in the shoulder. A yelp echoed through the still air, but he did not fall, he remained on his feet fleeing into the darkness. Creolis gave a moment’s thought to giving chase, but stopped. His friend still lay struggling on the ground.

 

"Are you alright?" Creolis questioned, kneeling by Elris, rolling him over to check for any bleeding.

 

"I'm fine." he hissed in-between gasping for air, "Cheap shot, knocked the wind out of me."

 

Minutes passed as Elris collected himself. Creolis lit a torch, taking it over to the bodies. Gingerly he removed the leather hoods from them, and gave a muffled gasp of disgust. Laid out at his feet was a twisted man, face disfigured and sunken. Pitch black eyes stared lifelessly into the sky. Thin wire like hair clung in small patches about his head. Pale yellow sickly looking skin gave an unhealthy pallor to the corpse. Elris had joined him by now and nodded to Creolis. "What is that thing? I've never seen a man like that before."

 

Sadness crept over Elris' face as he began in a slow troubled voice, "That, that is a Jergan. Or rather, that's what