ANDARA
The fire burned into the night. The flames rose high, illuminating the courtyard as if it were day. Greedily, the fire grew larger, consuming not only the wood and stone buildings, but the small garden and trees of the orchard. The animals in the stables screamed in terror, fighting against their bonds as the fire danced around them. No one would come to free them.
The fire made its way across the thatched roofs, swinging
from wooden beams and crackling in mirth. It found its way to the simple
chapel, absorbing the wooden pews and growing stronger as It drew closer to the
altar. The impassive face of the goddess watched mournfully as the flames
licked the hem of her wooden dress.
From a distance, the mountain looked like a volcano as the monastery was destroyed. The flames were seen for miles, and there was not a single doubt from the villagers as to who started the blaze. The monks did live near the border, and although peaceful, no one was spared from the raids. The fire did not care who had given it life. It ate until it was full, and the gentle morning rain put an end to its revelry.
*****
“What a mess!”
The booted figure stepped over the burned threshold of the monastery, wrapping his velvet cloak closer around him against the chill morning air. He put a gloved hand to his mouth to stop the lingering smell of charred flesh from assaulting his nostrils. Behind him, two more figures entered the monastery courtyard. One of them, a lithe young woman, wearing a forest green and brown tunic and hose, moved to stand next to the man. She shook her head, causing her long golden hair to shimmer in the sunlight.
“Not a mess, Adon. A massacre,” she said softly.
“Are you certain this is the place?” the third figure asked gruffly.
Adon nodded. His blue eyes passed over the bodies of the monks, burned where they lay after the initial Lezar attack. The innocent monks had been slaughtered as they tried to stop the invaders, none of the bodies were found with weapons nearby.
The third man used his axe to point to a building at the far end of the courtyard. The fire had gone through it, but not until much later in the evening, probably once the raiders had left and the rain had begun. The roof had collapsed but it seemed more or less intact.
“That the place?” the man asked.
Adon nodded. “Ivy, you and I will check the monastery.” The blond girl nodded. “Eyran, try to bury the dead.”
Eyran leaned his axe on his shoulder. His braided red hair was already covered by a thin layer of ash from the destroyed building. “I don’t have a shovel, but I can make them a tomb.”
Grimly, Adon and Ivy headed to the far building. The door was open, hacked apart and barely on its hinges. It had been burned, but the axe cuts were obvious. Adon ignored it as he stepped into the room, but Ivy inhaled sharply and gripped the knife at her side.
The sunlight filtered through the broken roof, casting deep shadows. Books littered the ground, damaged by the fire, the rain, or by weapons. The area closest to the door was the most badly destroyed, the shelves and books nearly reduced to ash. Adon and Ivy moved around them gingerly, not wanted to disturb the delicate balance that might be keeping the roof from collapse. Slowly, they moved deeper, glancing at any spared manuscript they could find.
“It’s no use,” Ivy sighed. “I can’t see it. It must have been taken or destroyed.”
Adon sat on a blackened stone bench. “It can’t be. We can’t be too late. We’ve come so far!”
Ivy placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll keep searching.”
Adon shook his head. “No. This was the last. It’s over.”
Ivy left her friend to his sorrow and took a final look around. She felt her own dashed hopes crumbling further as she moved a few broken shelves carefully aside, causing dust to fall from above. To her right, she heard a slight cough and moan.
“Adon!” she whispered urgently
Adon was beside her in a moment, staring where she pointed. Quickly, they moved the shelves and tumbled bits of ceiling aside revealing a half buried form among the wreckage. He was dressed as a monk, his robes burned and ripped. He was unconscious, lying on his back with one arm slung across his face as if he were trying to protect himself. His lower torso was trapped beneath a fallen shelf and his skin was badly burned. Ivy and Adon exchanged a glance.
“The record keeper?” Ivy asked.
Adon shrugged. “He’s the only survivor, whoever he is. At the very least, he can tell us what happened last night.”
Ivy ran to get Eyran as Adon began to work at freeing the monk. It took the combined strength of all three of them to lift the shelf from its victim, and after an hour of work he was free. Eyran began to bandage the man’s wounds, splinting his broken leg and wrapping his blistering skin. Adon stood guard by the door.
The man had short brown hair with the symbol of the goddess shaved into the back of his head. Ivy could see the purplish tattoo on his skull, a template for his tonsure. Other than his fair skin and plain brown robes, he resembled a normal man. He moaned softly as Eyran wrapped his hands and Ivy noticed the deep knife cut across his shoulder. Her eyes met Eyran’s and he nodded once. The monk had faced the raiders.
“People are coming,” Adon barked suddenly. “We must go.”
“Can we move him?” Ivy asked.
Eyran lifted the injured man in his muscular arms, cradling him as he would a sleeping child. Without another word, he moved past Ivy and back into the bright sunlight. His companion only a step behind.
The trio left the destroyed monastery the same way they came in, leaving the road a soon as possible to avoid whoever was approaching.
*****
The fire was all around him. He could feel it beside him, inside him, taking everything from him. He tried to leave, but the path was blocked. They had trapped him inside. He had done as they asked and they had left him to die. Frantically, he headed to the back, hoping to scrambled to safety through a window. He could see the moon, beckoning him from the heavens. He tried to reach the moon, tried to breath in spite of the smoke, tried to ignore the deaths of his books, tried to disregard the pain in his shoulder. He was almost at the window when he heard a sharp crack. Turning quickly, he saw the shelves collapsing towards him. His eyes widened in alarm and he threw his good arm up to shield his face as they very objects he cared for cascaded down to entomb him.
*****
“He’s waking up!”
Kristoff blinked, his head objecting to the sudden bright light. It took his brain another few seconds to register the pain that coursed through his body, and he immediately regretted regaining his senses. Taking a ragged breath, he opened his eyes again.
A woman with golden hair and pointed ears was standing over him. Her blue eyes were full of concern, but a flicker of a smile played across her lips. This woman was no raider, Kristoff realized, fighting down his initial surge of panic. He blinked a few more times and wondered if he was looking up at the goddess.
“Adon! Eyran! Hurry!” the girl called, turning away and out of Kristoff’s vision.
Two more faces appeared. One was a gruff looking man with narrow brown eyes and long, braided red hair and beard. The other man was fair skinned with black hair and blue eyes. Both were smiling.
“Awake at last,” the black haired man said cheerfully.
“Quiet, Adon,” the gruff man chided.
“Where am I?” Kristoff asked hoarsely.
“The Rose Inn,” the girl replied. Kristoff turned his head slightly to see her and the rest of the room.
He lay in a soft bed in a large warm room. Two more beds were beside him, the girl seated on one, and a window on the far wall. The girl smiled brightly, her hair tied behind her head in a long ponytail. Outside the window, Kristoff could see the blue sky and hear birds singing in the trees. He realized he was far from home.
“The monastery,” Kristoff stammered, “the others…”
“Relax,” the bearded man instructed.
“You were the only survivor,” Adon told him sadly.
“The only survivor?” Kristoff repeated dumbly. “No…”
“We realize this is difficult,” the girl said, “but do you remember anything from the attack?”
Kristoff closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. His brothers were dead. His home was destroyed, yet the goddess had spared his life. Opening his eyes again, he raised his hands so he could see them. They were bandaged tightly, but he could feel the sting of the burned flesh beneath them.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Forgive us,” the black man said. “I am Adon. The lady is called Ivy, and this fellow is Eyran. What is your name?”
“Kristoff,” the monk replied.
“We were on our way to your monastery to speak with your record keeper,” Eyran continued, “about a certain text.”
“I was the record keeper,” Kristoff whispered. “There were no other survivors? Not even the abbot? The servants?”
“We searched everywhere,” Ivy told him. “The Lezar are thorough, but your brothers died valiantly in defense of your home.”
A smile played across Kristoff’s lips. “My brothers were men of the goddess, not warriors. The raiders slaughtered us without mercy.”
He turned to face Eyran, his eyes full of pain and anger. “What text were you searching for? If it will stop the raids, I will help you whatever way I can.”
Adon smiled at the injured monk. “We seek the Andara.”
Kristoff blinked in surprise. “That’s what the raiders said. They destroyed my books searching for it.”
“Did they find it?” Eyran asked eagerly.
“They did, but not before slicing my shoulder and threatening to kill me and my brothers. I supposed they would have done that regardless.”
Adon, Ivy, and Eyran were visibly disappointed. The three of them headed for the door.
“Thank you for your help,” Adon said. “Rest now. We’ll speak later.”