Chapter 7

  The Ashen Testament

  Eldric reached out with shaky hands and pulled the furs back to reveal the burnished bronze book. He sighed in relief and picked it up, oddly comforted to have it in his hands again.

  “Find it?” Harlan called to him, the frown on his lips seeped into the tone of his voice. The man leaned around the side of the wagon and looked inside.

  Eldric crawled across the wagon bed to the back and hopped out. He held the book tightly against his chest with one arm.

  Evening had settled over Oberton as the men stabled the horses in the inn's connected barn and put the wagon away. “I’m glad you have the book, but aren’t you holding it a bit too tightly?” Harlan asked as they walked out of the barn.

  “I just…” Eldric hesitated as he looked down at the book. “You’re right, it’s strange…”

  “No—” came a third voice, and both men looked to the right. Vestara leaned against the barn’s outer wall, her usually fierce expression muted as she looked between them. “It’s actually not so strange.”

  “Hey, Ves,” Harlan said, smiling and walking over to her. “Did you and Little Fox get rooms alright?”

  “All is well, Harlan.” She nodded. Eldric didn’t miss the faintest smile on her face as she looked up at him. “Nia has already gone to bed for the night.” She reached into her pouch and produced a key. “The room you and Eldric will share is on the second floor, last door on the left, across from mine and Nia’s.”

  “Ah, thank you for getting all that ready,” Harlan agreed, taking the key. “Come on, Eldric, let’s get some rest,” he motioned for Eldric to follow.

  “Actually,” Vestara spoke up, lifting one of her small hands to stop the two men. “I would like to speak with Eldric concerning that book he is so desperately clutching.”

  “Me?” Eldric asked, looking from Harlan to her. For some reason, when she brought up the book, he felt a flare of anger surge through him that vanished as fast as it appeared.

  “Is that a problem?” Vestara asked, her lips forming a thin line.

  “Easy, Ves,” Harlan said, stepping between the two of them. “It’s just sudden, and he is obviously protective of it.”

  “I am not going to take it from him…” She looked pointedly at Harlan and then waved him away before she strode past the older man and stopped in front of Eldric. “Eldric, let’s go inside.”

  Eldric frowned. He had wanted to go up and read the Testament in his room.

  Vestara’s voice lowered to a whisper as she leaned in. “Are you hearing his voice yet?” Her eyes narrowed as Eldric’s widened.

  His first instinct was to deny it, but one look at her searching gaze, and he knew lying would be pointless. He had never been able to lie well anyway.

  “Yes…” Eldric admitted quietly. Vestara looked down and away for a moment, then seemingly made a decision and nodded.

  “Then we shouldn’t wait.” She turned back to Harlan. “Come along, Harlan,” she said as she passed him and headed for the inn.

  The older man waited a moment and then fell into step beside Eldric. “Told you I’m not the one in charge,” he whispered with a chuckle.

  “I heard that… boy,” Vestara responded from a couple of yards ahead of them.

  Surprisingly, this caused Harlan to laugh harder, as if this were a familiar back-and-forth between the ancient elf and the aging human.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The trio stepped inside the inn and were greeted with quiet murmurs from the tavern’s patrons and a roaring fire in the large hearth. A couple of gruff men in frayed clothes leaned heavily against the bar, only glancing back a moment as the three of them entered. The dimly lit room smelled of ale and the faintest hint of onion coming from the many bowls of soup that sat on the occupied tables.

  “I think I’ll head to bed, you two,” Harlan said once they were inside. He gave a small wave to Vestara. “Eldric, I’ll see you when you come up to the room, if I’m still awake. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked for you either way.”

  Eldric was about to protest. He didn’t want to be left alone with the dark elf who literally summoned demons and could throw human-sized fireballs. He couldn’t get the words out, though, as Harlan walked away and Vestara led him to a table in the corner near the fire.

  She settled into a chair with a small sigh and bundled her cloak tighter around her body. Her dark gray, nearly black skin melded into the dimly lit backdrop, but her ruby-red eyes contrasted the darkness like candles in the night.

  “Sit, Eldric,” she said. It was not a command. Her voice was laced with exhaustion, and she watched the hearth out of the corner of her eye as Eldric sat down in the chair across from her.

  He set the heavy book down on the table between them, but even that did not draw her sidelong gaze away from the fire. Her void-black hair caught the light as she sighed. “What do you see when you look into the flames, Eldric?”

  Eldric turned his gaze to the roaring fireplace. What did he see… warmth, fellowship, safety. To him the hearth was a gathering place—but that wasn’t what Vestara was asking. He swallowed as flashes of Cinderholt appeared in his mind’s eye. “I see Cinderholt…” He looked away and closed his eyes.

  “You betray your Order and your beliefs if you turn away, Eldric,” Vestara said quietly. “Suffering is the core tenet of your Order, the foundation of its entire doctrine.” He was about to ask her how she knew, but she shushed him with a quiet whisper.

  “Can I get the two of you a drink? Perhaps some food?” interrupted an older barmaid as she straightened her brown apron and approached the table in a hurry.

  “Wine,” Vestara said.

  The woman looked to Eldric. “Uh…” he hesitated. He had never been to a place like this. Was he supposed to order anything?

  “He will have water and whatever you have available for a meal. The tab is mine,” Vestara answered, looking away from the fire long enough to catch the barmaid’s eyes. The woman frowned slightly, uneasy at Vestara’s momentary look.

  “Understood. I’ll be back in a moment.” The woman walked away, and both Eldric’s and Vestara’s gazes returned to the fire.

  “Are you afraid of the Sorrowscribe?” Vestara asked quietly.

  “Yes, of course—” Eldric answered immediately, his head snapping toward her, but his words died in his throat. She was watching him closely now, her eyes narrowed.

  Fear…

  His gaze dropped to the Ashen Testament as his thoughts turned to the Scribe. Pale gray skin, ethereal blue eyes, the quill sword leveled toward him as script bled from it. The image was terrifying. The curse should have made him want to hide forever, yet he felt nothing

  “No,” he said finally. “I should be, but I am not afraid.” He still felt, but everything was different, as if someone else were telling him how to feel.

  “Then at Cinderholt… in those final moments, did you speak your tenets with your whole being? Did you believe wholeheartedly in the doctrine of the Order of Ashes?”

  He had plunged his sword into the ground, let the fire in his chest overtake him, and spoken the tenets with everything he was. “I did…”

  “Then you experienced something called the first spark,” Vestara said. She turned her gaze back to the fire as the barmaid returned with a bowl and two drinks on a wooden tray.

  “Had to go down to the cellar for the wine, missy. Not many folks around here drink this stuff. Most of us prefer ale,” the barmaid explained as she set the glass in front of Vestara.

  The dark elf’s lips twitched upward as she thanked the woman. A bowl of soup was placed in front of Eldric, followed by a cool mug of water.

  “What brings such an odd pairing together?” the barmaid asked, glancing between them.

  “Our companions have already turned in for the evening. We are passing through on the way to Firmhaven,” Vestara replied.

  “A dark elf headed to Firmhaven… ah, my husband mentioned you earlier. You were with the cute foxkin woman, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, she is part of our group,” Vestara said. Her cordial tone gave Eldric a sense of whiplash—it sounded nothing like her usual monotone. “Though calling her cute may earn you a lecture.”

  The woman laughed and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll keep that in mind. My name is Lysa. Enjoy your wine, elf.” She turned to Eldric. “Enjoy your soup, lad. Hopefully the smell in the air won’t ruin your meal.”

  The smell.

  Eldric and Vestara looked at each other. “The smell?” Eldric asked.

  “Aye. Smells like sugar and the tea leaves they bring in from elf lands. Moved in a couple weeks ago. Not bad, but it’s seepin’ into everything, I tell ya.”

  “Thank you for telling us,” Vestara said, taking a drink of the wine. “And the wine is good.” Her cordiality made her sound like a completely different woman. She and Lysa exchanged a few more words before the barmaid moved on to another table.

  “What can I get for ya, Owen?” Lysa called as Eldric tuned her out and met Vestara’s stare.

  “What do you mean by the first spark?” Eldric whispered.

  “You not knowing is why I am so concerned… and the reason you are still alive,” Vestara said. She closed her eyes for a long moment. Just as Eldric was about to press her, she opened them. “Open the book, Eldric. Turn to the Ember passages and read the first one.”

  Eldric frowned but obeyed, lifting the book’s metal cover. He had only ever seen copied excerpts of the Testament—never the tome itself. He turned the ancient pages until he found the passage she indicated.

  For her sake, he whispered the words aloud.

  Ember Page 1 – The Spark Within

  (Inscribed after the First Hearing, when the Founder accepted his solitude as destiny)

  Oh Lord, I, who have felt Thy grasp around my soul.

  Oh great Rebirth, oh wondrous light, Thou who bringest new dawn, Thou who rewritest my identity in Thine image—hast burdened me as Thy herald.

  How I desire to shine Thy burning light upon the darkness of the world.

  But that is not Thy way. For all must suffer to draw closer to Thee. Reborn in ash, just as Thou foundest me, all must be broken to find Thee.

  The self must be fractured for the spark to ignite.

  I who die for Thee daily, who seek with conscious will, know what Thou askest of me:

  Rebirth. Truth. Power.

  Just as Thou askest, I am the throne, the vessel of Thy testament.

  I alone hear Thy voice—but I alone may make others hear.

  “Close it,” Vestara said as he finished. “Eldric… you must not read this book alone.” There was a quiet plea in her voice—neither command nor threat.

  “Why?” Eldric asked as he gently closed the book. He searched her face, but her gaze remained fixed on the tome, her expression one of the many masks he was beginning to associate with her.

  “Your Order believes burdens are meant to be carried on the path to divinity,” she said at last. “I have lived long enough to see human kingdoms rise and fall. In that time, I have witnessed suffering take many forms. I have seen people grow from it...” She tapped a sharp black fingernail against the book’s metal cover. “Taking on this knowledge before you are ready will give you power—and it will also destroy the person Nia named Eldric Ashborn.”