Prologue of Cinder Reign: The Enchanted Elixir
Oh Holy Willow, please see us through this night safely.
“This was a foolish idea; we should have waited until dawn to travel,” Edren said, tightening the cloak around himself. The torch-lit caravan creaked through the moonless night. He reached back to touch the crossbow over his shoulder. It was still there, the light weight of it a comfort. People thought he was paranoid because he always kept it loaded, but one could never be too careful traveling on the road.
“I heard goblins attack at night in these lands,” Aline, a half-elf with large blue eyes and fair skin, the youngest among their group added. She glanced back and forth into the darkness, while nervously running a hand through her long blonde hair.
“Nonsense, even if the goblin tales were true, they wouldn’t dare attack our caravan; and if they are foolish enough to try… I’ll personally make them wish they’d never left the holes they crawled out of,” Bronn, his brick-house of a trading-partner added. Bronn spoke his mind, often too frequently; but he had the brute strength to enforce it, so Edren tried not to cross him when he would say his piece. A former warrior and bounty-hunter, Bronn always joked about having Orc-blood in his veins.
“Horses don’t seem spooked,” Tiven exclaimed from the front of the caravan. Tiven was the oldest of the group, with braided, silver hair down to her hips. She frequently exploited those extra years to drive the wagon instead of walking alongside it with the rest of them.
“This would be an ideal night for a raid,” Edren explained. “We don’t even have the cover of moonlight protecting us.”
“Well, I heard the goblins were all killed in some big battle a while back,” Bronn interrupted, scratching his broad chin. The king of these lands is said to be some sort of master magician, or a demigod or somethin’. It’s said he sent the invading goblin horde runnin’ for the hills, killing the goblin leaders by drowning them in a sea of fire. I can’t recall the name though; it had something to do with flame… aarrrgh! It’s on the tip of my tongue...”
“The Battle of Catching Flame?” Edren suggested.
“No, the word ‘flame’ wasn’t in it. I’m sure of that,” Bronn corrected.
“A Battle of Ice and Fire?” Aline added.
“Too popular, I think that’s the name of every third battle fought across the land. It’s something more unique,” Bronn said, shaking his head.
“The Battle of Cinder Reign!” Tiven shouted from the wagon.
“That’s the most ridiculous one I’ve heard yet! Everyone knows that cinders cannot rule,” Bronn countered.
“Good point,” Aline agreed.
“I was just speaking my mind,” Tiven huffed.
Edren thought he heard a sound in the distance, but it vanished when he tried to focus on it.
“Anyways,” Bronn continued, “whatever the name of that battle was; I heard the only dangerous place in these lands is The Fallen Mountains to the north and some twisted woodland known as The Scarred Forest. Now, do you see any mountains or trees nearby?”
Edren looked around. As far as the torch light carried, all he could see was flat fields.
“No,” Edren replied reluctantly.
“If the grass was any higher it’d be a prairie,” Tiven added.
“Exactly,” Bronn replied, holding his head high. “So unless you’re afraid of being attacked by livestock, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Let’s just keep moving, I’ll feel safer once we’ve reached the gates of Beckonthrone,” Aline added.
“You’ll feel safer once you’ve seen the fortune we’ll make in the city marketplace,” Bronn said haughtily. “Our wares will get more attention than a newly-opened tavern, and I still have that small box of mermaid scales, which on the Umbra-market should fetch twenty-times our daytime profits.”
“Or get an assassin following our tracks,” Aline added.
There’s that noise again, but where is it coming from? Edren thought as he tilted his head.
“You know what goblins and assassins have in common, Aline? They both fall to my axe,” Bronn said with a chuckle.
“It sounds like that axe can slay everything but your ego,” Aline muttered loudly.
“What do you mean by that?” Bronn asked.
Tiven laughed.
What is that sound? Edren thought, focusing on the faint noise. It sounds like a flapping of wings, an owl perhaps? Then why does it growing louder…?
“I’ll have you know that it’s not the axe that brings the victory,” Bronn said stubbornly, “but the one who wields it—”
“Wait, listen!” Edren interrupted. “Do you hear that?”
“The only thing I hear is the shaking of your legs, Edren,” Bronn said, turning to him with a furrowed brow. “You have nothing to fear though, if your rattling attracts a curious goblin, I will slay it for you.”
“No, I hear it too,” Aline said, her eyes shifting to the darkness above them as she drew her bow.
“Sometimes, I am amazed you two are not wed, you have so much in common. You’re both terrified of everything,” Bronn said while shaking his head. “Without my leadership, our trade would fall apart to nothing but—”
Bronn fell silent as the sound grew even louder, and slowly drew his axe. Edren and Aline anxiously looked towards him, and then at each other.
“What is it?” Edren whispered. “A large crow? An owl? A—a harpy?”
The horses whinnied and reared up.
“The horses are spooked! The horses are spooked!” Tiven shouted
The noise no a light brush through the air, but a rushing gale that bent the grass around them.
“Maybe it’s a storm coming in?” Aline asked, her question sounding like she was begging for it to be true.
“No…,” Bronn replied, his eyes widening. “This is no storm.”
A powerful gust of wind rushed across the field, blowing out their torches and sending the three travelers sprawling across the ground.
Edren swore as he opened his eyes and looked around. He could see nothing in the total darkness.
The first thing Edren heard was the crashing of the caravan being tipped to its side. The horses squealed, immediately followed by Bronn and Tiven’s incoherent shouting.
Edren reflexively reached in his cloak for his crossbow, but it was no longer on him. Cursing, he fumbled around blindly on the ground. Finally he felt the familiar handle of his weapon.
Edren struggled to get to his feet, then froze when he heard Aline’s shrill scream.
Swearing again, he raised his crossbow and turned in place.
“Bronn! Aline!” Edren shouted.
The only sound he could hear was the crinkling of his feet against the soft grass and the noise of his own raspy breathing.
“Anyone…” he whispered.
A low rumble made Edren whirl around. He squinted into the darkness.
Where is everyone? He thought. He could feel his heartbeat.
As his sight adjusted, he saw two large midnight eyes, swirling with ruby light, staring back at him.
Beneath the eyes, a giant mouth opened, the jagged teeth becoming more and more visible in the glow of the red light emanating from deep in its throat. The light grew quickly, casting a crimson glow over the grass around him.
With trembling hands, Edren aimed his crossbow and prayed.