Chapter 8: Myths and Legends
Royce stood on the bank of the river in the early morning light trying to skip stones out toward the tower. None of them made more than a single jump before the turbulent water consumed them. His most recent idea for reaching the tower centered on building a small boat and launching himself upriver in the hopes of landing on the rocky parapet before the massive current washed him over the falls. Although there was no clear landing ground for such an attempt, it might be possible, if he caught the current just right and landed against the rock. The force of the water would likely smash the boat or drive it under when it met the wall, but he might be able to scramble onto the precipice before going over. The problem was, even if he managed to perform this harrowing feat, there was no way back.
He turned to see the wizard walking up the river trail. Perhaps to keep an eye on him but more likely to be on hand should he discover the entrance.
“Morning,” the wizard said. “Any epiphanies today?”
“Just one. There is no way to reach that tower.”
Esrahaddon looked disappointed.
“I have exhausted all the possibilities I can think of. Besides, Theron and Thrace are going to be leaving Dahlgren. I no longer have a reason to bang my head against this tower.”
“I see,” Esrahaddon said, staring down at him, “what about the welfare of the village?”
“Hardly my problem. This village shouldn’t even be here, remember? It’s a violation of the treaty. It would be best if all these people left.”
“If we allow it to be wiped out, it could be seen as a sign of weakness and invite the elves to invade.”
“And allowing the village to survive is breaking the treaty, resulting in the same possibility. Fortunate for me, I am not wearing a crown. I am not the Emperor, or a king, so it’s not something I need to deal with.”
“You’re just going to leave?”
“Is there a reason for me to stay?”
The wizard raised an eyebrow and looked long at the thief. “What do you want?” he asked at length.
“Are you proposing to pay me now?”
“We both know I have no money, but still you want something from me. What is it?”
“The truth. What are you after? What happened here nine hundred years ago?”
The wizard studied Royce for a moment and looked down at his feet. After a few minutes, he nodded. He walked over to a beech log that lay across the granite rock and sat down. He looked out toward the water and the spray as if searching for something in the mist, something that was not there.
“I was the youngest member of the Cenzar. We were the council of wizards that worked directly for the Emperor. The greatest wizards the world had ever seen. There was also the Teshlor, comprised of the greatest of the Emperor’s knights. Tradition dictated that a mentor from each council was to serve as teacher and full-time protector to the Emperor’s son and heir. Because I was the youngest it fell to me to be Nevrik’s Cenzar instructor, while Jerish Grelad was picked from the Teshlor. Jerish and I didn’t get along. Like most of the Teshlor, he held a distrust of wizards, and I thought little of him and his brutish, violent ways.
“Nevrik, however, brought us together. Like his father, the Emperor Nareion, Nevrik, was a breed apart, and it was an honor to teach him. Jerish and I spent nearly all our time with Nevrik. I taught him lore, books, and The Art, while Jerish instructed him in the schools of combat and warfare. Though I still felt the practice of physical combat was beneath the Emperor and his son, it was very clear that Jerish was as devoted to Nevrik as I was. In that middle ground, we found a foothold where we could stand together. When the Emperor decided to break tradition and travel here to Avempartha with his son, we went along.”
“Break tradition?”
“It had been centuries since an emperor had spoken directly to the elves.”
“After the war, there wasn’t tribute paid or anything like that?”
“No, all contact was severed at the Nidwalden, so it was a very exciting time. No one really knew what to expect. I personally knew very little about Avempartha beyond the historical account of how it was the sight of the last battle of the Great Elven Wars. The Emperor met with several top officials of the Erivan Empire in the tower while Jerish and I attempted, without much luck, to continue Nevrik’s studies. The sight of the waterfall and the elven architecture was too much to compete with for the attention of a twelve-year-old boy.
“It was around dusk, nearly night. Nevrik had been pointing things out to us all day, reveling in the fact that neither Jerish nor I could identify any of the elven things he found. This was, of course, the first time in centuries that humans had met with elves; we were at a distinct disadvantage. We found several sets of elven clothes drying in the sun, made of a shimmering material we couldn’t identify. Nevrik delighted in stumping his teachers, so when he asked about the thing he saw flying toward the tower, I thought he saw a bird, or a bat, but he said it was too large and that it looked like a serpent. He mentioned it had flown into one of the high windows of the tower. Nevrik was so adamant about it that we all went back inside. We had just started up the main staircase when we heard the screams.