Twinsoul, Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Home

A warm wind fell over the deep pond west of Tyhal, too warm for the early spring, Poerna knew. The wind horse turned his eyes skyward, and knew the reason for the strange gust. Crossing past the sun was a dark form, the color of a starless night. It had an equine shape, but fire covered its hooves and mane. It was a nightmare, a beast of fire and night. Poerna was a goodly creature, and he knew this species to be foul and destructive. He would have attempted to drive it away or attack, but he made no move. He knew this nightmare's name, and he was not here for trouble.

Lyxas dove down suddenly, at a frightening speed, and then stopped short of the ground, his fiery hooves singing the tips of the grass. Poerna shook his head scornfully. He hated when Lyxas showed off.

“Why are you here, ruining my meal?” Poerna asked, indicating the burnt grass at Lyxas’ feet.

Lyxas whinnied softly, the equivalent to horse laughter. “When are you going to start eating meat? I think you’d like it.”

Poerna shuddered, not enjoying the thought of sharing a meal with the demonic horse. “I hope for your sake this isn’t a social call,” he said disparagingly.

Lyxas nodded, understanding the asperi’s unease. “I bring news from the Darkplane.” The wind horse started, now understanding the nightmare’s sudden appearance. Since the Demon Hordes' attack, the demons’ home plane was relatively silent. Lyxas or Reylyn had not visited Poerna with such news for over sixty years.

 “It seems that the Demonfather has found his time to act,” Lyxas explained. “There are only whispers now, but it seems like he may be up to his old mischief, if you take my meaning.”

“Then it must be true, Twinsoul is here!” Poerna said. “But I thought the other lords refused to work with him?”

“Those in the Darkplane who remember him know only his failure,” Lyxas told him. "It seems his plan has changed. He acts alone this time.”

“How could he even act? We’ve been careful, and we have eyes in all the right places. There’s no one alive who could summon him!”

“Is that a fact?" Lyxas' fiery eyes glowed in the daylight. "You forget, his power transcends his bindings. We aren't perfect, and we've had a blind spot for some time now, thanks to the child. This isn't just possible; it was inevitable.”

“This is indeed dire news,” Poerna said gravely. “We must inform the other guardians immediately.”

“We?” Lyxas snickered. “Isn’t there a certain orphan returning to Tyhal soon? And need I remind you that the Festival is not but a week away?”

Poerna sniffed and grunted. Of course he knew his duties as a guardian, but this news and the events it heralded were of the highest importance. He felt that he should be the one to spread the word to the others, as he was the eldest member.

“Don’t muss your mane over it,” Lyxas sneered. “I will inform little Reylyn, and after the festival, you can inform the other three. We still hold the advantage of time, and we will know for certain after the festival if my news has bearing on the good people of Kayledon.”

Poerna regarded the nightmare quietly. “Your actions never cease to amaze me. Not only are willing to bring your services to bear for those who would never know your existence, you do it without recompense. Very noble for a demon.”

Lyxas bowed before Poerna. “You are the one who taught me, Poerna. And nothing could please me more than infuriating my former masters.” He started to fly away, turning back briefly to say, “My own disciple should be returning as well; look after him or I’ll do worse than singe your lawn!”

Poerna smiled inwardly. It seemed everyone would be home again. Maybe he would finally get to meet Evandel’s friends.

******

                                                    

It was nearly noon when Evandel realized they were almost to the village proper. He could smell the rich, perennial gardens that lay south of Tyhal, and could hear the buzz of people talking and working. Though it was early spring, the farmers of Tyhal used their aura magic to aid in the growth and upkeep of their crops during the winter and throughout the year.

With the festival not far off, he knew there was much work to be done, and that everyone would be working frantically to make sure all was ready. He figured that he could probably get to the village without attracting any attention. It was not that he wanted to avoid the other villagers; he just wanted to get home and see his mother, and find Bargo and Deida.

“Hey there!” someone called to Evandel and Zaken. Evandel sighed and turned to the speaker, who was standing across from the two travelers in a in a patch of summer squash. The speaker was a burly human dressed in a harvester’s smock, wearing a wide brimmed hat to keep his face and neck out of the sun. Evandel could not see his face, but did not remember such a man from his days in the village.

“You two! The half-elf and the one with the tail! Come here!” the man called. Zaken grumbled and his tail twitched. Evandel smiled, remembering how much Zaken hated talking about his tail.

“Good day sir,” Evandel said, as he made his way through the rows of vegetables. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing,” the man said, removing his hat and smiling. “I just wanted to say hello to the first sorcerer to come from Tyhal.”

Now Evandel recognized him. The man’s smile gave him away immediately.

“Bargo! It’s good to see you!” Evandel said, embracing his old friend. “I hardly recognized you, and not just on account of the hat.”

In truth, Bargo did look a lot different than what Evandel remembered. It wasn’t that Bargo used to be scrawny or weak, but he had grown a good deal in four years. His arms and legs were thickened with corded muscle, and his shoulders and chest had broadened indeed. The only reason Evandel had recognized him was his brown hair, now trimmed very short, and his dark green eyes that seemed to glow warmly when he smiled.

Bargo laughed heartily. “You’re one to talk! You’re almost as tall as me,” the man remarked. Indeed, Evandel had to look down at Zaken, but was nearly eye level with Bargo. Four years ago, Evandel was closer to Zaken in height, but now he rivaled Bargo, who was always the tallest in the group.

“A lot has changed, hasn’t it?” Bargo said. “We’re going to have to catch up with each other.”

“We’ll be trading stories at The Singing Storm,” Zaken put in, “you could join us when you’ve finished.”

“It just so happens that I’m done,” Bargo said, smiling. “But Evandel and I can’t go.”

Evandel blinked. “Why?”

“Your mother made me promise to take you straight over to her, even if I had to carry you there,” Bargo said, grinning. “She’s the one who sent Zaken after you.”

“All right then,” Evandel said, grinning “Let’s all go together. If I had to guess, she’s prepared enough food for more than just us three, and will expect me to have it all.”

The three friends walked back across the fields, making their way to the cluster of tree houses that made the village proper. Along the way, Evandel asked Bargo what he had been doing in the two years they had been out of contact.

“Well, first you should know that I joined Tyhal’s militia, around the time you left.” Bargo said. “I might have forgotten to mention that in my letters.”

“Yes, but that’s fine,” Evandel said, not mentioning that his mother had already told him. “Go on.”

“Well, the gnolls attacked two years ago,” he said, referring to the beastly hyena people that lived in the northeastern part of the forest. “We had to send for reinforcements from Valora, and, well . . .” Bargo broke off, a red tint to his cheerful face.

“Well what?” Evandel pressed.

“When a Valoran officer saw him fighting, he was personally invited to join the Old Order by valor of acts alone,” Zaken said, finishing for the man. “Just recently, he was promoted to knight errant.”

“You’re kidding!” Evandel said, his eyes wide. “A knight errant?”

Bargo shook his head, his face now glowing red. “I just got promoted a month ago.”

“If I remember correctly,” Evandel said, “that is the highest rank a knight can attain, and that one of them is enough to do the work of a platoon of soldiers!”

“I don’t know about that,” Bargo mumbled. “I’ve only had two missions since then, both successful.”

“Don’t be modest, big guy,” Zaken told him, giving him a good-natured slap on the back. “Few can hold their own in battle as well as you.”

It was when Evandel saw Bargo become even redder that he suspected that one of Zaken’s aura magics was to embarrass people with little more than a compliment.

The trio made their way to the enormous hollow tree that served as a hub for the entire village. The tree itself was the home of the village elder, Arthil, and his family. He had been the village’s leader since before the Demon Hordes came, and few could remember if there had been any other leader before him. His only daughter, Siali, had taken in Evandel when he had been found abandoned in the woods seventeen years ago.

As Evandel knocked on the door, he suddenly remembered asking his mother who his real parents were when he was only nine, and had learned that he was adopted, only to see her smile sadly, and tell him that she didn’t know. He could not even remember why he had asked such a question.

This is the memory that struck him when he watched the door open after he had knocked, and saw his family.

Siali had noticed him first. She stood up, her long black hair trailing behind her as she came to embrace her son. Her pale green eyes had already started to fill with tears of joy. He could see Deida at the sitting room table behind his mother. She had become a beautiful young lady, though she still remained shorter in stature than even Zaken. She had cut her long brown hair, which had been her only vanity growing up, to a mere shoulder length. Her brilliant red eyes sparkled with an exuberance that Evandel had sorely missed in four years. She stood up from the table, coming to greet her old friend. His adopted grandfather, sitting at the table, smiled brightly, a sight rarely viewed on his stern countenance. He barely heard the welcomes, and hardly felt the warmth of his mother’s embrace, so lost he was in his memory.

Evandel felt ashamed that he had asked that question. It had been a long time since he asked it, but only now did he regret even thinking of it. It seemed a petty curiosity, a wondering of a callous youth.

His mother must have noticed something was wrong, because she pulled away slightly and gave him a curious look. “Evandel? What’s wrong dear?” Siali asked, looking into his distant eyes. “You’re home!”

“I know,” Evandel said, shaking away his thoughts. “I know that now. I’m sorry, I’ve missed you, mother.” He returned her embrace firmly, solidifying his revelations with his actions.

His real family was always here.

******

Later that night, Evandel, Bargo, Deida, and Zaken made their way to The Singing Storm, the local tavern run by Bargo’s parents. For a tavern in a small community, it enjoyed a history of booming success. This was because Derric and Vara Tramas had the sense to offer entertainment as well as food and drink. Vara’s cooking was easily the best in Tyhal, and Derric’s warm and friendly nature made him an excellent host. They arranged for one of the local talents (or even bards from as far away as Vainemar, if they could spare the expense) to do a performance of any kind one night a week, amateur acts welcome and returning performers appreciated.

When Evandel entered the taproom, he felt as though nothing had changed in four years. Smiling faces, young and old, surrounded the long tables. The air was steeped in the soft scent of Rosewater Ale, the Singing Storm’s specialty drink. The chatter of the patrons was at a reasonable level, polite and quiet. Derric tended the bar, fraternizing as much as working, and the smell of Vara’s roast boar made his mouth water.

The group made their way over to a table in the corner, and Derric came over to welcome them. He congratulated Evandel on his graduation from Solreth, and made him promise to show off some of the things he learned at one of the performances. When they all had their drinks and food, they began sharing their stories.

Evandel told his friends about some of the lessons he had, and all about the mysterious Solreth, the island magic school. Because of its isolation, it remained a mystery to many people.  It had a reputation for its strict selection policies, so when Evandel was personally invited to attend Solreth by the headmaster himself, he was made to promise to tell everyone about it when he left, if he was not sworn to secrecy.

Zaken spoke of some of the sights he had seen, a little about the Glory Seekers, an adventurer’s guild in Eldrinach, and some of the hardships he had suffered on the road. He gave them vivid descriptions of underground lairs of serpent-like creatures called nagas, recounted the vast glittering treasures of a long buried castle, explained the grim, statue-littered halls outside the lair of a medusa, and reported that he had indeed seen the Mist, the remains of a kingdom lost during the Horde attack. Evandel could tell he was embellishing parts, but the stories were good enough that he did not care.

Bargo told of his battles, with the Tyhal militia and as the leader of a Valoran unit. He had come up against most of the creatures that threatened Valora and Fisathvanna. He described his fights beside men and elves alike against the likes of goblins, brigands, and the vicious gnolls. He claimed that he was promoted to knight errant when he saved his imperiled company from a giant almost single-handedly. Deida scolded him for lying to his friends, but he gave her an offended look and swore upon his sword that he would never lie to them.

Evandel realized after Bargo’s stories that Deida had not said what she had been doing for the four years, not even hinted at it. When he asked her, she gave him a curious look.

“I thought I told you,” she said. “I was pretty sure I mentioned it before you left.”

“No, you didn’t tell me or my mother,” Evandel told her. “I thought you had forgotten me and disappeared from all knowledge.”

“You didn’t really tell us either,” Bargo said in Evandel’s defense. “I found out from experience what you were doing, and Zaken told me he saw you at Fisathvanna when he was passing through.”

“You’ve seen her?” Evandel and Zaken said in unison.

“Yeah. Remember how I said I worked with the elves against the gnolls?”

Zaken’s eyes widened, and he looked at Deida. “You joined the Malevals?” He asked, referring to the elven army that defended Shae’Ildarae.

“Well, no, not exactly,” she said. Evandel could see a hint of red in her cheeks.

“Well, what then, if not them? You couldn’t have joined the Kathilasi, right?” Zaken went on.

She smiled broadly. “I did.”

Zaken’s disbelieving stare became a stunned blink. Bargo sipped from his ale, hiding his grin. Evandel almost fell out of his chair. When he regained his composure, he leaned on the table and looked hard at his long lost friend.

“Let me see if I understand,” Evandel said, keeping his voice low. “You’re part of THE Kathilasi, the strike force of the elven army? The exclusive secret group spoken of in whispers that has a perfect record of assassinations and strategic strikes? The archers that could shoot an arrow between the eyes of a fleeing goblin from behind and still remain undetected? That Kathilasi?”

Deida nodded. “I just finished my training a few weeks ago, around the time you left Solreth, I would wager.”

“By the Five Stars, why didn’t you tell us?” Evandel said, half exasperated.

“Hey, I thought I told you all, remember?” she said warningly. “I wasn’t allowed correspondence during my initiation, and during the few training missions I had, I was only allowed contact with other soldiers involved.”

“Hence, why Bargo knew but the rest of us didn’t,” Zaken said, putting the picture together. “But Evandel’s mother was looking for you as well. Why couldn’t she even sense you?”

“That was a part of my training,” she answered. “Kathilasi are masters of hiding their auras. You need to be able to do so before you are even considered for selection.”

“And I thought the Solreth entrance exams were hard,” Evandel said. “To hide an aura entirely is a difficult and taxing magic to perform, especially for an air Principle, like you.”

Deida smirked. “Is that what they taught you? That’s what I thought too. No, my friend, they have it easiest.”

Evandel gave her a curious smile. “Do tell.”

“It’s all basically learning to calm your aura,” Deida explained, leaning toward him. “Airs have a harder time learning that, since their auras are usually very active. But once that’s mastered, they can hide their auras more easily than dark aura folks.”

“Let’s pretend that not everyone at this table was magically trained in anything but basic aura spells,” Zaken said, smiling wryly. “Mind putting that in terms people like that can understand?” Bargo nodded his agreement.

“Here’s the simple version. How can you see the air if there is no wind?” Deida asked.

Zaken thought a moment, and then nodded. Bargo shrugged and sipped his ale.

“Fascinating,” Evandel said, smiling dreamily. “I never thought of it that way before.”

She grinned smugly. “It just goes to show that you can’t learn everything in school.”