Page 4

Chapter 4

Elnok’s Decision

E lnok spun the gold ring around his pinky finger. The distant familiarity of its weight brought memories of dark gray stone and gilded chalices, deep blue jewels and the reek of wine. It’d been over a decade since he’d worn it, and while a part of him wished he’d thrown it into the sea all those years ago, he’d known better.

It was the reason he could request Orym’s medicine.

Elnok flexed his hands as he and his group of thieves approached the blood-stained dock. The high noon sun shimmered on the white-capped waters as the gangway creaked underneath their weight. His black cloak billowed around his knees, the rope tied to his hip lightly patted against his leathers, and the blade of his short sword glinted in the sharp sunlight.

Dockworkers lined the gangway, their ragged beige clothes topped with thin sheets of metal. Their backs straightened and their eyes faced the ground, the sky, the brown-husked ship, anywhere they wouldn’t catch Elnok or his crew’s gaze.

The stench of their fear lined the stains of their armpits.

These weren’t warriors—not even close. They would sooner squeal and abandon a fight than attempt to draw their poorly crafted swords. Yet Elnok still narrowed his gaze and unsheathed his small dagger, making sure each dock worker acted accordingly.

In a world where resources dwindled and food had become scarce, survival was a privilege easily squandered. If Elnok was to protect himself and his crew, he had to be seen as heartless—ruthless. Everyone did. It was a mask he hated, but he’d worn it for so long, he often wondered if he’d lost himself to it.

Then again, perhaps everyone had.

“What’s this?” a scratchy voice said from behind, “Someone tryin’ to steal our spoils?”

Elnok stopped on the gangway, turning to face the band of pirates that had laid claim to the village.

“Merely retrieving that which has been requested,” Elnok replied with an air of nonchalance.

“ Right .” Their captain laughed as she chugged the remainder of her beer, throwing the mug into the dirt afterward, “And I’m the long-lost Prince of Vutror. Now that we’ve acquainted ourselves, why don’t ya pay yer mind and step away from what’s ours, boy .”

Elnok raised a brow, the heated gaze of his crew falling on him. Slowly, he made his way back down the gangway, sliding his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair.

“And where did you just hail from? The Northern Sea?” Elnok inquired as he stepped in front of the pirate.

The woman met him with a smile full of silver and gold.

“Yer dumber than ya look, boy. Course it was the Northern Sea. Years on end in its unruly wake.” She spit on the ground as her posse laughed. “Seen more pillages and battles than ya’ve probably encountered yer small little life. Now, if ya wouldn’t mind?—”

Elnok steadied his dagger underneath the woman’s chin before she had the chance to counter. She lurched back, eyes wide, but Elnok grabbed her shoulder and brought her close.

“I’d reconsider your next move,” Elnok whispered.

The pirates went for their weapons, but Elnok’s crew drew theirs first, a warning for the pirates to step away.

They obeyed.

“Here’s how this is going to work, Pirate,” Elnok whispered, “I’m going to let you waddle on back to your riches and spoils this village has brought you. I don’t care what you do to this place, but I promise you, you’ll only find death if you attempt to board this ship.” Elnok leaned in closer. “Understood?”

The pirate coughed, her throat bobbing on the pointed blade.

“Yer not just a common thief, are ya?” she questioned, sweat beading at her temple.

Elnok smiled. “Not quite.”

The pirate backed away, eyes frantic as she readjusted her gaudy hat and puffy laced shirt.

“They can have this load of shit,” she yelled, loud enough for every passerby to hear, “Vutrorian vessels aren’t worth the damn trouble anyhows.”

Elnok’s crew laughed as the pirates scuttled away, but he couldn’t manage anything more than a thin smile as he turned back to the ship.

“Stay on the gangway and make sure no one else boards,” Elnok instructed, “This won’t take long.”

“Orym said we should accompany you,” one of them stated.

“Orym’s ill and doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Elnok retorted.

“Don’t think we haven’t taken note of your comings and goings these past few weeks. We know something troubles you beyond Orym’s sickness, and we’ve all agreed we aren’t going to leave your side?—”

“This is not up for discussion,” Elnok snapped.

Their eyes grew wide as each of them lowered their weapons. Elnok’s head pounded as he dropped his shoulders. Nerves rarely got the better of him, but this day was never supposed to happen. Necessity overruled preference.

“Orym is dying and this could be his only chance of survival; I need to know you will follow my orders,” Elnok said. “I need to know I can trust my crew.”

A moment of silence was followed by a group of wary nods.

“I’ll issue my signal if I need assistance,” Elnok said.

Salt and wind filled his lungs as he walked the remainder of the gangway, meeting a lone guard at the ship’s entry.

“Away, scum,” the guard said as he blocked Elnok’s path, his grotesquely clean armor causing Elnok’s eyes to water. “Or your blood will join the stains on your village’s flimsy dock.”

Elnok grinned. “Are these the manners the royal guards are taught nowadays? A shame.”

“Watch that mouth, boy?—”

“Everyone today keeps calling me that: Boy. But I daresay I stand a good few inches taller than yourself, not to mention my arms are twice the size of yours. Are we certain you didn’t sneak on this ship to fulfill some boyhood fantasy of yours?”

The guard gripped his hilt as he stepped forward.

“One more word out of you and that mouth of yours will be wiped clean off?—”

Elnok raised his hand, the glint of the ring shining in the guard’s eye.

“And what exactly is this supposed to…” His voice trailed off, his eyes studying the ring. His pale skin turned sheet white. “You—You? But it can’t be?—”

“Will you continue to make a member of Vutror’s royal family wait outside his own ship?” Elnok questioned, “Or must it be your blood I spill on this dock?”

The guard gulped, eyes frantically glancing from Elnok’s ring to his face. But the truth was as undeniable as his royal signet ring. The guard whispered a flippant apology as he stepped to the side, welcoming Elnok, the long-lost Prince of Vutror, onto his family’s oldest and most prized of vessels.

“Now,” Elnok said to the guard, “Where’s my brother?”

The guard gave Elnok an unruly amount of apologies as he left him at the gaudy entrance to his brother’s quarters. Elnok spun the ring faster and faster on his pinky finger, clenching his jaw as he ground his teeth. Ten years since he’d last seen his brother. Ten years since he’d had anything to do with Vutror.

And yet, it still didn’t feel long enough.

Sucking in a deep breath, Elnok pushed open the doors, the large pieces of hand-crafted wood bowing before him.

Windows looked out over the rippling shore. Waxed candles lined the sills, dripping onto the floors and pooling around the metal legs of a telescope pointed skyward. A green velvet chair, placed behind a great oak desk covered in tattered parchments, bent quills, and countless empty glasses, faced the wide windows. Above the chair and against the wall hung a gold-laden frame with the unmistakable artwork depicting his brother. Dark hair, a wily grin, maroon clothes stitched with jewels, and the same pale green eyes as Elnok.

Tosh Rogdul, the King of Vutror.

“It’s been some time, brother.” Tosh’s grating voice echoed through the room.

Elnok tensed as his brother’s dark figure stood from the chair. Tosh’s back faced him, his oily black hair longer than that of the portrait. His silk tunic hung loosely off him, as if it were far too large for his frame. In his hand was a glass of wine.

Elnok spun the ring faster.

“So it has,” Elnok replied, his voice cold as ice. “You received my letter?”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Tosh said, taking a sip of wine.

The sharp stench of it swept into Elnok’s nose. He choked on his saliva, refusing to allow the memories to push into his mind.

He fucking hated that wine.

But then Tosh turned, and Elnok’s face fell. His brother’s skin appeared waxen, like a skeleton donning a piece of thin flesh. His eyes were large and stained red, his green irises bright and unsettling. Elnok now realized his clothing wasn’t too large, but Tosh was too small. A walking thing of death. This looked different than Orym’s sickness. Worse, somehow.

He couldn’t help but take a step back.

“All this time,” Tosh whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

Elnok’s mouth curled downward, his fists clenching. He had no reason to feel sorry for his brother’s current condition, whatever it may be. Tosh deserved nothing from him, especially his pity.

“Apologies for the disappointment,” Elnok replied.

His brother’s lip quivered, opening as if to say something only to take a long gulp of wine. He set the glass down with a clink.

“I come with an answer to your letter,” Tosh said, “The medicine you requested is only a rumor. Estea has not graced us with such providence.”

Elnok’s chest hollowed.

“However, we have physicians back in the palace who have found ways to delay the sickness. If you wish to bring your friend aboard, we’ll take him with us?—”

“I’d never put Orym through your torment,” Elnok interrupted.

He turned to leave.

“Elnok, wait.” Tosh’s voice cracked.

A rush of wind caught Elnok’s hair as a large man appeared from a shadowed corner. He moved in front of him, blocking his way out. The man removed the hood of his long brown cloak, revealing golden-blonde hair that fell to his chest. He didn’t look much like a Vutrorian guard, far too tall and muscular for the training they went through. But perhaps Tosh had been in need of more strength.

“The king is not finished,” the golden-haired guard said, voice like thunder rumbling against the sky.

Elnok danced his fingers along his sword’s hilt.

“I would hate for my long-awaited reappearance to result in bloodshed.”

The man smiled. “I agree.”

He didn’t move.

“Perhaps I need to be more forthright with you,” Elnok said as he unsheathed his sword.

The guard’s smile widened as he removed his cloak and drew his long sword, the weapon twice as long as Elnok’s shortsword. He didn’t think much of it, having been trained in such combat, until he noticed the glowing yellow stone on the man’s chest.

Sparks of gold shot up along the man’s veins—his legs, arms, and neck—like lightning, crackling across his golden skin, his eyes burning brighter than the sun. Green and brown leather armor with intricate swirl patterns wrapped around his body; not the silver armor or black leathers of a Vutrorian soldier.

Elnok’s blood turned cold.

“No outlander has ever fought me before,” the magical Estean warrior—the Dynami—said, his magic causing the room to flicker with light.

Elnok should’ve known better, should’ve foreseen his brother’s bloodlust after finding out he had lived. He’d somehow hired this Dynami to kill him; it would always be about Tosh maintaining the Crown, no matter how many times Elnok voiced never wanting it.

“Kharis,” Tosh’s weak voice said, “This isn’t what we agreed upon?—”

Blood pumping hard and fast, Elnok used his brother’s distraction to slash at the Dynami’s stomach. The Dynami parried without so much as a look, catching Elnok’s swift movement with ease. Power heated against Elnok’s skin as the magic sparked off the Dynami and onto his arm. He pushed away from the warrior’s sword, readying his stance as Kharis laughed with gusto.

“ Clever ,” Kharis said, “One move and I can already tell you fare better than most outlanders.” His glowing eyes narrowed, “But I’m curious to know what you think of this?”

Elnok’s footing faltered, his focus caught adrift as the Dynami rushed for him, but it was as if he’d melted into the air, only a streak of light until Kharis appeared in front of him, his sword leveled beneath Elnok’s throat, the magic searing into his skin, the blade drawing blood.

“If you spare me, Estean, I’ll owe you a great debt,” Elnok offered, “Money, jewels, fish that won’t cause your stomach to revolt—name your price, and I’ll retrieve it for you.”

The Dynami huffed a laugh, “I have no need for such things.”

“Then name your price.”

“Listen to your brother and accept his offer.”

The glowing blade was like flames licking at his neck.

“I suppose you’ll have to kill me after all,” Elnok replied.

The warrior frowned. “Is death truly a better option than simply listening to what he has to say?”

Elnok flared his nostrils. “Quite.”

The Dynami’s frown deepened.

“Kharis,” Tosh said again, “Release him.”

Eyes still narrowed, the Dynami released his hold. His magic vanished, the yellow stone on his chest losing its color, looking like clear quartz—hardly worth anything around these parts. Elnok dusted off his cloak, using this brief moment of respite to swerve around the warrior and get off this damned ship.

“Elnok,” Tosh called after him, “If it’s medicine you want, then there might be a way to get it.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Elnok stopped. It had been a mistake to call upon his brother for assistance—a desperate, impulsive attempt. And yet, he heard the pain in Tosh’s voice; he hated how it made his skin crawl, almost as if a part of him still cared for the monster.

He couldn’t stop himself as he turned.

Tosh’s large reddened eyes stared at him. He gripped the desk as if he were in pain, the wine glass he’d been nursing having tipped over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

“And what would that be?” Elnok questioned, his grip on his sword so tight the skin of his knuckles cracked; a warm drop of blood ran down his hand.

Tosh looked towards the Dynami.

“There’s a legend in our land,” Kharis began. “In our goddess’ last breaths, she saved our kingdom from her brother, Distrathrus, whose poison infected the continent and was about to infect Estea. To destroy him, our goddess had no choice but to sacrifice her life in the process. In her place, a great willow tree formed. The tree was imbued with her—the goddess of life’s—power and has the ability to grant many things, one such thing is that of healing. One can surmise it could heal the sickness that sweeps this land.”

Elnok took a deep breath, sheathing his sword. “And where is this tree?”

The Dynami crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s what makes it a legend, Prince of Vutror. No one has seen it with their own eyes.”

Tapping the hilt of his sword, Elnok leaned against the door frame.

“A mythical healing tree that no one knows the location of?”

The question hung in the room like the stench of Tosh’s wine.

Elnok pushed off the wall. “If that’s all there is, then I’ll be taking my leave.”

“The tree is real, and I plan to find it,” the Dynami said, “but I need assistance.”

Elnok laughed bitterly. “And where would you have us start? A journey through the entire continent? I’ve not enough time nor coin for such a venture.”

“I believe it to be somewhere in Lhaal Forest,” Kharis replied.

“The terrain filled with monsters? You do see how this is a terrible way to recruit someone to assist you, yes?” Elnok shook his head. “But what I’m wondering is why you are searching for it, Dynami? If the rumors are true, your people don’t suffer from the sickness.”

The warrior’s smile faded. “I care for more than my people, Prince. Your side of the continent deserves to be in good health?—”

“Spare me the heroics. At least explain to me why you would need my assistance in this endeavor?”

Tosh lifted a piece of parchment. “Vutror receives food and water from Estea while Vutror trades our weapons. We’re in the middle of revising the negotiations, and I’m unfit for the journey to Estea to finish them.”

Elnok straightened his back. “So that’s what this is about. You’re asking me to go be your placeholder for political machinations?”

“The High One will not accept negotiations from anyone who isn’t in the Vutrorian royal line,” Kharis countered. “And as a neighboring ally, you would be granted access to parts of the temple I’m not allowed to enter, parts where there could be historical information about the tree.”

“I have no interest in playing as a political pawn, especially with a leader who refers to himself as the High One .”

“Do you not harbor any compassion for your brother’s current state? For the affairs of the Vutrorian people?”

“My own affairs are enough to handle at the present moment.”

The Dynami shook his head. “If we do not try to find this tree, then your friend will die.”

Elnok’s fingers slipped from his sword’s hilt. That was the point of this whole endeavor—to save Orym. But, to play politics in order to gain information about a legendary tree sounded like madness.

He spun the golden signet ring on his finger. There were no other options.

And Orym only had a week left.

“Well then,” Elnok said as he leveled his gaze with the warrior’s, ignoring Tosh whose gaze fell to his spilled wine. “You’ve won me over with your fool-proof plan. Now, how soon before we depart?”