The Lerenak of Eid

Staring into the mirror, Eid saw beaming blue eyes staring back at him. The almost-white hair and slight creases in the face betrayed the man's age. The scars on his face revealed more. The man staring back at him had been Koran - a warrior and a hero. Eid sensed that Koran had been on an important mission, one that would shake the world. Would have shaken the world. 

Koran was tired now, or was that Eid? The new scar he found on his calf didn’t help his mood any. Ah how spry he had been before. Back when he was Arvis. He felt he must be easily forty years older now. He still had his strength, though. Or would, once his wounds healed. He had been careless. Careless people always underestimated the old. And now he had the wound to show for his showboating - a deep cut in his thigh.

Koran’s mission was over now. It was time for Eid to return to the Citadel. He longed to be back. But he also knew that he couldn’t stay for long. He doubted he could stay Koran for more than a year, at most. A shame, really, this had been a time consuming contract. Not his longest by a good sum, however. He shuddered, thinking of the old days, when people were careful and sly. Each encounter in those days was deadly, but Koran thought those were the most exciting kind. And what Lerenak wouldn’t think so. 

A cold winter later, Koran found himself at the Citadel. The snow still idled on the sides of the roads, slowly melting in the warmth of the slowly approaching summer. The sun bounced brilliantly off of the dark obsidian towers of the Citadel’s ghostly compound nestled in the curves of the Ildrissian Mountains. He breathed out and watched his breath slowly condense into a small cloud before disappearing into the brightness of the day. 

As he approached the Citadel’s gate, Koran raised his obsidian crest in the air to Trenal, the one guard he recognized. Trenal seemed startled by the motion, his armor clanging as he quickly jumped to his feet. He steadied himself and examined the old, chiseled man standing before him, then the crest. “Arvis, is that you?” he stammered quietly, almost to himself. 

“It’s Koran now,” he replied gruffly. “They didn’t tell me about this,” he said, gesturing to the old man’s face. To his face. Trinal nodded, feigning understanding, though Koran could see a hint of confusion on the boy's face.

He entered the tower known as Dawn. It’s elaborate tapestries were some of the finest creations he thought he had ever seen. How many times had he been here and each time their beauty stunned him to silence. He turned toward the young man who Koran was only vaguely aware was speaking to him. It was Lucan’s third son, or so that’s what the young man had said. Lucan had died three years earlier, apparently. All the same to Koran, the gold was his concern. Chests of gold. And a new contract; he was up against the clock now, wasn’t he? This new boy was Koran’s least favorite of all of the Krenath line he had dealt with. Lucan had been quick to anger, that was true, but he was never one to talk your ear off about his new custom carriage. You can’t beat mahogany, the young man cried out again. Koran doubted that was true. Nonetheless, Lucan's spawn blathered on. It had been a bright day when he arrived and he saw the sun setting now, as Lucan's spawn was finally done giving him his new contract.

Koran enjoyed his first hearty meal all winter in the tower called Dusk. A juicy slab of meat with roasted corn and potatoes. He chased it down with a handle of mead. He would be here only a week but he would enjoy the Citadel’s pleasures for every moment he could during that time. He called for a cake. The whole cake.

He would soon leave the warm hearth of the Citadel and make his way toward the man named Hilreth. Where that was, he didn’t know, but Hilreth was where he was going. Hilreth was an arms dealer, Lucan’s spawn had told him. He had been responsible for the brief War of the Roses, which had taken place while Koran had been away. Koran had noted silently, that there was no notice how the contract was to be completed. The spawn only cared that the arms dealer was no longer an arms dealer. This was rare. He was always excited when a contract let him explore his creative side. He recalled the “accident” of the bell “falling from the belltower.” A difficult sell, Koran had to admit, but Koran had been much more charismatic when he had been Julianus. 

Julianus had been exceptionally proud of himself for completing contracts in creative ways. Once he had gotten a contract’s own daughter to do the work for him. That was toward the end of Julianus, he thought, but one of the contracts he was most proud of.

The next morning, Koran was sharpening his blades when he saw Trenal notice him and start walking his direction. “Arvis,” the young man cried out as he approached. He paused for a breath and the smile dropped away thoughtfully for a moment. “Er Koran, I mean,” he corrected. “I heard you were leaving again soon on a new contract.” Koran nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement. Trenal seemed to take this as some sort of divine sign to continue. 

The sales pitch that followed made Koran’s head spin. He didn’t think he had heard someone talk so much since the days he had been Silena. Silena was partial to a long winded dialogue - that had always been true of her. Koran chuckled to himself, which only seemed to encourage young Trenal. Somehow the conversation had ended with Koran agreeing to let Trenal follow along “just for a while or so.” His head already hurt. 

It was now two weeks since Trenal had left the Citadel with Koran. His legs were sore from all of the walking. That was nothing compared to how the rest of his body felt after what Koran called daily instruction, however. Koran was obsessed with getting Trenal into shape. He didn’t mind the meals though, he thought as he looked lustily at the roasting body of the plump rabbit Koran had prepared as their supper. Koran always made sure Trenal didn’t leave a meal hungry.

Trenal was starting to get worried, however. Not long after they had left the Citadel, Koran had begun to act strange. He started talking to himself, he was sure of that. Koran had denied it when Trenal brought it up but he was sure he had heard it. It wasn’t just the talking to himself that was unusual though, Trenal was sure he had talked to himself on more than one occasion. It was how he talked to himself. It sounded secretive and paranoid. He did feel Koran had been warmer toward him since the talking episodes had started, though, which made things even stranger.

When food supplies had almost run out, he thought he didn’t see Koran eating much, as if Koran was keeping Trenal fed at his own expense. He didn’t understand why he would do that. He was worried it had something to do with the Lerenak.

The Lerenak. That’s what they called themselves, the people who ran the Citadel. Them and the constantly shifting array of bounty hunters who came and went, the only thing common between them being the crests they carried. A dark circle of steel inlaid with dark obsidian in the shape of a raven. And their identifier. This was how you knew one of the returning bounty hunters was a Lerenak. Sometimes the face holding the crest was the same, sometimes not. It didn’t matter though. Anyone carrying the crest was a Lerenak. Anyone who had the crest could enter the Citadel.

After he had watched one man leave with one face and return with another, he had asked around the citadel. No one knew the answer. Or they weren’t willing to say. He thought this was closer to the truth. He felt something unusual was going on.

Soon, Koran’s mutterings had incorporated mad laughter. Sometimes darkly quiet, other times skull splittingly loud. Koran's obsession with Trenal’s instruction and health only increased as his seeming madness did. Then came the questions. He wanted to get to know his traveling companion, Koran said. The questions were never really about him though, or at least it didn’t seem so. He asked about Trenal's family, their health, his relationship with his father - unusual things. Koran never talked about normal things though. He didn’t ask about the weather, or how Trenal felt about the world, or this topic or that. Koran's questions reminded him of the questions the town doctor might ask you in order to diagnose a medical problem. But Koran was no doctor. 

Soon the more obsessive behavior started. Koran would hardly let Trenal out of his sight. Protecting his travel companion, he had said. Hadn’t the point of the instruction been that Trenal could now defend himself? He had grown much stronger in the last few weeks, as had his reflexes.

Not long after that he caught Koran sneaking glances at him. Glances like a mother might sneak at her playing child to make sure they were still safe. Once Trenal woke in the night and could have sworn he saw Koran’s eyes close, as if he had been watching Trenal in his sleep. 

Several times Trenal had debated leaving, heading back to the Citadel. He had learned a lot on this trip. Maybe another Leranak would let him follow them. He doubted it though, they seemed to value their own company. The problem was that Trenal was good and lost. He doubted that he could find his way back to the Citadel from here. Koran had taken them on a wild route as they searched for Hilreth, the man Koran said they needed to find. 

Early on Koran had seemed obsessed with finding Hilreth. After Trenal started noticing Koran talking to himself, however, that obsession seemed to wain. Only to be replaced by Koran’s obsession with him, Trenal realized as a shiver went through his spine. 

Despite this opportunity to watch a Lerenak in action, to learn from one, he wondered if he had made the right choice coming with Koran. But Koran was a man he knew, or at least thought he did. Really he had known Arvis. The blonde haired cocky man named Arvis. Koran wasn’t like that at all, however. He had always thought that the Lerenak were illusionists of some sort, but that never seemed quite right. He remembered when one particularly tall Lerenak had gone on his way with the sign of the Sed on his crest, his muscles rippling below his arms, his hair a mess on his head. Two weeks later a beautiful woman had come back, easily two feet shorter and full of attitude. 

The woman walked right up and showed her crest, the crest of Sed. The same crest as the hulking man who left. It didn’t matter who held the crest, he thought, as he let her into the gates of the Citadel. They made that clear from day one. He was happy to let it go, with the assumption this ferocious woman had somehow bested the large man and taken the crest. But hadn’t she referred to him by name when she approached? Hadn’t she asked of his family? A topic he had brought up only briefly with the large man, who had seemed uninterested in talking any more than was necessary. Yet she knew. And that wasn’t the only thing she knew. It seemed she knew every interaction he and the hulking man had together, like she had been there herself. 

Koran threw a pile of wood next to the fire, disturbing Trenal’s thoughts. He hadn’t heard Koran coming, he was too engrossed in his thoughts. He thought he saw disappointment on Koran’s face but he wasn’t sure. He watched as Koran went to his bedroll and seemed to go to sleep. Trenal would join him soon in slumber. A few minutes later as his breathing slowed and his body prepared itself for sleep, Trenal wondered again if he had made the right choice. Later that night he would discover he hadn’t.

Trenal was woken from his sleep by what sounded like someone tripping over the wood pile. His eyes fluttered open as he felt a heavy weight fall across his chest. In front of him, or maybe more appropriately on top of him, was Koran. His eyes flashed wildly on his face. Spiddle was making its way down his chin from the corners of his mouth. In the moment he had to process what was happening, Trenal noticed Koran’s neck. He remarked that it looked thin, like he hadn’t been eating well. Had he been skipping meals after all? As Trenal thought this over, Koran's arm went to his belt and pulled his knife. The movement was fast - Trenal barely had time to react - all he could muster was a short scream. Trenal was horrified to find that he understood everything now.

Trenal awoke from his sleep, feeling refreshed. He had slept like a baby. He stretched his arms high over his head. He felt the soreness in his muscles, but to him that was what made him feel alive. Or was it how calm he felt? His mind was so quiet and peaceful today. He was about to eat more rabbit meat when nature called to him. As we walked in the direction of the stream he remembered was nearby, he saw the blood on his hands and remembered the previous night. He smiled, yes it was mighty quiet in here today.

He took care of business and then washed quickly in the stream. He was ready to be back on the road, he thought to himself with a child like excitement. He finished the rabbit meat easily. 

After camp was packed, Trenal went through his instruction. His sore arms felt good, and he felt satisfied. I’ll find Kilreth soon, Trenal thought to himself giddily. He cut off that giddy feeling at once with what felt like the force of two hundred parents simultaneously scolding a child. It was better to find Hilreth slowly and carefully, rather than find him quickly and recklessly. Even that young guard from the Citadel had known that, though his instruction had been short. 

Trenal went one last time to the creek and filled his waterskins. He looked at the young face staring back at him. He stared for a moment longer, admiring his new vitality. Then he stood. This was the first day of a new life. That old man Koran had gotten them lost in his madness. Not that he hadn’t gotten them far before that, though.

They were on Hilreth’s trail now. He was on Hilreth's trail, he corrected, stroking the crest. He turned it over in his hands. The crest of Eid. His crest. Trenal’s crest now. He took in a deep breath, full of history. How long had it been? The years had been long - it felt like ages. How long since he had been Eid? As he started down the road he pushed it from his mind, it didn’t matter now.

Trenal, a Lerenak like he always wanted, started on the first day of his new life - or was it the same? - a life that would take him places he could never have imagined. He smiled, letting the crest slide from his hand into its protective pouch, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. It was time. For the life of the young guard from the Citadel was over - now came of story of Trenal, the Lerenak of Eid.