The Seventh Wind Part 1: Feast at the Table of Lies

By A.C. Thevins

Ever since there have been kings, there have been lies. Ever since there have been lies, there have been kings. And ever since shall the lie and the king dine together.
Cellmack doesn't carry noble blood, nor is he a slave. As a young commoner living near a remote farming village, he doesn't have to concern himself with the realities of a declining Feudalist Empire. Taxes are poorly enforced and imperial soldiers rarely cause trouble for the townsfolk. The relative freedom allows him to earn a modest living by crafting illegal swords. Life is good enough but far from easy. Powerful storms and firewings are only the beginning in the struggle to survive.
He begins to ask himself if there is more to life besides endless work, fear of the king, and hiding from the cold wind of the late fall maelstrom.
A twist of fate will soon shatter his world and send him on a journey that challenge everything he thought he knew. The things he sees and the people he meets along the way will have profound consequences not only for his own world, but countless others.
And all because one man refused to bow before the king.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Aug 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780228803713

Book preview

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Table of Contents

Claystone

Wings in the Wind

The Two Cities

Crimson Ice

Freeman Status

The Hand of Terruse

The Black Beyond

Pearl

Cathedral

The Dreadnought

Creff Part I

Creff Part II

Creff Part III

The Last Resort

The Dud

Aya

Strange Things of Angels’ Wings

Copyright

Chapter 1:

Claystone

The deep sky glowed from a burning orange sphere on the watery horizon. Feet were running across the cold sand as a wave of pattering wings swarmed into a blood red sky. A gentle wind came from the grasslands and spread over the shimmering waves of the ocean. There was laughter.

He opened his eyes. It was dark and cold with the scent of dawn lingering in the stale air. He took a deep breath and vapor poured from his mouth. The young man crawled out of bed and did his best to be quiet as he opened the heavy oak door. In the early gray light, he stepped across the crusted snow to wash his face in the creek. Crystal-clear water flowed over the granite stones and burned like fire on his face. It wasn’t enough. He submerged his whole head in the icy water before wiping his face down and walking back to the sod hut.

Although it was still dark, his eyes began to clear in the morning light. Mist slowly rolled over the hut, swirling with strands of chimney smoke. Farther away, the endless stands of tall trees faded to black in the distance. Even the morning breeze was reluctant. There was not a sound other than his own breath.

He gathered an armful of sticks and went back inside. The stone walls were riddled with spikes for hanging various steel tools and clothing. The center of the round room was supported by a thick stone chimney, where a crudely pounded steel door was open. He sifted through the ash, teasing out the few surviving embers, and coaxed a flickering flame to life. Before long, a warm orange firelight was covering the bookshelves behind an old desk.

An old man slept in the other bed, while his various pens and ink sat waiting on the desk. Piles of carefully marked papers were stored among the shelves. The boy closed the fire door and noticed the gray light outside was brighter.

With smoke pouring from the chimney, he walked over to a forge in a separate building outside. Icicles stretched from the roof, and the cold mist persisted as his boots crunched on the frosty ground. Darkness among the trees weakened as the morning dragged on.

He pulled a long sword from a sand trough and held it to the light. It sang crisp and clear when he knocked it against the log pillar. A second short blade was unfinished and kept separate at his hip. Compared to the longsword, the short blade was dull and had no decoration of any kind.

When he walked back inside, the bleary-eyed old man was settling in at his desk and collecting his thoughts. An iron kettle gave off a spicy scent as the tea inside began to boil.

So, you finally finished it, said the old man.

The boy placed the cloth wrapping on the floor and lifted the sword into the light from the window. It was polished to perfection with intricate engravings on the handle and base of the shaft. A royal coat of arms was painstakingly forged into the steel to identify its rightful owner.

And right on time. The boy grinned.

I hope he paid a fair price this time.

Fair enough for my blood.

You should not spend yourself so carelessly, Cellmack. Othrige can afford to pay a fair price.

I know, but he is one of my best customers. And it’s still more money than I had before.

He may be a repeat customer, but no one else could match such quality.

Maybe. What about you? Are you finished?

Most of the audits are complete. He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Lord Othrige is getting a bit greedy, but considering the state of the crown, he will get away with it. I’ve moved the numbers around the best I can. As for the rest, they have no surplus to declare, so there won’t be an issue.

The door closed and they set off into the rising mist. Steam plumed from the old man’s cup as he slowly nursed his tea along the way. He moved slowly and made little noise with each step. When he looked to the sky through the trees, he could see spears of light reaching for the ground.

The maelstrom may come early this year, he muttered before taking another sip.

Do you ever wonder what’s beyond the sky?

Cellmack, you know better than to ask that sort of question so early in the morning. He downed the last swallow and placed the cup on a rotten fence post. He then reached for a walking stick and they continued.

I was just thinking about what you said last week about the world being round.

What about it?

It’s not that I don’t believe you, but—

I am not a god, Cellmack. There is no proof I can show you in my hand.

But you really did see the world before it was gray?

I did.

It’s hard to imagine … He looked at the gray clouds again. So, from what you’re saying … the sky was once blue?

I remember it like it was yesterday, but I don’t expect you to believe me. There is no rational reason anyone should. Anyone old enough to remember is no longer with us.

So, the world is round … and there are other worlds out there too?

More than you can imagine. And not just planets like this … every kind of celestial body with light, color and depth beyond your wildest dreams. His eyes returned to the ground and his face wrinkled in disgust.

Are there people out there?

You should stop asking such questions, Cellmack. It was a very long time ago when men dared speak of such things.

Sorry, Uncle. Days like this always make me think a little more than I should.

There is no sin in thinking, but be careful about losing focus. My archives are filled with people who made that mistake.

So why bother trying at all?

Hmm? His white brows wrinkled his forehead.

If nobles will take everything anyway, why bother trying so hard to better ourselves? Even if we can stay out of the way, what does it matter in the end?

Because I’m too tired to care anymore. Nobles are not the criminals any more than we are. Because we allow them to lord over us. We crave it.

I certainly don’t.

That’s because you’re too young and stupid. Not unlike myself at your age.

Yes, but at your age, there were no kings. Or trees. Or … dirt. Before the smirk could form on his face, he was whacked from the side by the walking stick. Ouch!

I’ve lived to see countless eras in my time. Will you do so well in yours?

I guess that depends on whether I can leave well enough alone.

Being able to form words and steel at your age is no small feat, Cellmack. Your skills will allow you to choose whichever path you want.

Have you heard any word from the imperial city?

Unfortunately, I have. Henry has overplayed his hand and the church is growing weary of their support.

So he lost?

Of course he lost. He’s sending armies of conscripts in a crusade against holy indoctrinated volunteers. A man will fight with a sword at his back, but never to the same level as one who believes in the cause. Losses no doubt include the murder of their own commanders.

Do you really think they could lose Sky City?

That depends on how well he can supply his forces. Given his stupidity of late, I doubt our dear leader is incapable of losing to even the most inept of opponents. It’s a wonder one of his own hasn’t already killed him.

I’m glad we’re in the lower valley. If things go awry in the heart of the empire, not much will change here.

Don’t be so sure. Although this is considered a lawless region, there is still a tax base. Local grain production is also still significant. Make no mistake, Cellmack. If for any reason the crown came to believe there was something to be gained by attacking this place, it would happen.

It seems like a waste to be spending military resources on conquering your own people.

That is always the first duty of any ruler. You must own what you possess before you can project your power outward.

If only I could get within arm’s reach of him. Cellmack grinned.

The only way to do that is to be an adviser. Although you are literate, you could just as easily lose your head if it’s found out that you can read and write without a permit from a noble’s title.

Not if I take his head first.

Even if you do, who would replace him? The old man stepped over some of the roots that riddled the steep descending pathway. You have to remember, the rest of the kingdom would not have changed. Many who benefit from the current system would live on. And all of the commoners who are fed by the ruling noble class would still be the cowards they always were, ever fearful of being cast from their own cage.

But what if they were shown a better way? Cellmack stopped up ahead where the trail was about to turn for another steep descent. What if they were given the chance to care for themselves?

You’re assuming that’s what they want.

Why wouldn’t they?

Because people fear change, not death. And they don’t pursue happiness; they avoid pain. So long as they have stability with little pain, they will remain.

That would imply that we are no better than cattle!

What’s your point? A good farmer will always take good care of every single cow right up to the moment of slaughter. When you think about it, it’s a good life. Food and shelter are given, and we never have to make the dangerous decisions. Death is inevitable either way.

You don’t really agree with that, do you?

What? With death?

No, the other part—about being a happy slave.

Of course not. Were a few years younger, I would have probably tried something foolish myself. But since I’m too old for that sort of nonsense, I must content myself with my reading permit, and the few books I was allowed to keep. You must pick your battles, Cellmack. You’re too young to risk so much just because you think you know better.

I didn’t say I wanted to become king—I just want to remove this one.

And if the next one is even worse?

Then I’d knock him off, too. And carry on until there would be no more nobles or royals left, he shrugged. Simple.

Now you’re just being unreasonable. We would both be out of work.

They laughed and continued into the village.

The decrepit log walls of the village perimeter took shape as they emerged from the forest. Stone and log buildings sat quietly in the damp air. The frost-crusted ground crunched under their feet as the mud beneath squished out. Few lanterns were burning at this early hour, but there was movement. A few chickens were already scratching around and a goat was pulling at the last green blades of grass.

You don’t really think they would waste their time with a little village like this, do you?

If things are as bad as I fear, nothing should be taken for granted.

In the gloomy town square, a tall brick bell tower stood silently watching over the rooftops and chimney smoke.

Why do you have to bring me down so early in the morning?

Somebody has to cut you down to size. The old man slapped him on the shoulder and was on his way.

Cellmack quickened his stride and climbed the timber steps to the town’s only tavern. His limp was almost invisible when he moved quickly. The hanging sign was in the shape of a squealing pig impaled on the end of a rusty lance. He swung the heavy door open and crossed the wood floor, being careful to watch his step. Tables, chairs and food were strewn everywhere.

What happened here? he muttered.

Cellmack! a friendly voice called from inside. Good of you to show up.

I seem to remember telling you I couldn’t work last night. He threw the wrapped swords on the counter and they clanged loudly.

Hey, now— easy with those things. The man held the side of his head.

Why do I get the feeling you were in on this, Drake?

Because I’m always in on it, he chuckled. So this is the latest contract? He uncovered the swords and immediately grabbed the longest one. So what would something like this set me back?

Cellmack sat at one of the stools and put his head down to rest his eyes. Much more than I would pay, that’s for sure.

Well—Drake put the sword down again—at least I got drunk last night. You’re exhausted and the day hasn’t even started. I hope it was worth it. He placed the broom next to him and started whistling as he continued placing cups on the shelves.

Maybe I should have gotten drunk instead, Cellmack mumbled.

Life is short, Cellmack. You should learn to live a little!

Cellmack hid the swords on the floor behind the bar before grabbing the broom. The smell was worse than usual. The soup caldron had been knocked over. Broken clay cups were strewn across the floor and several throwing knives were lodged in the wall.

I hope they paid well, he said, while prying out one of the knives.

Always! Drake replied.

The balance was off and the tip was very soft. Cellmack was able to straighten out the slight hook just by putting his weight on it.

How am I supposed to compete with this cheap junk? He tossed the dagger in a barrel with dozens more.

Well, you’re the entrepreneur. Compete!

Drake! A woman’s voice blasted from the cellar. Get down here!

Duty calls, Drake muttered, and wandered down into the cellar.

Better you, than me, Cellmack said. His amusement was short-lived when he went to the kitchen and saw the huge pile of dishes. Well, I guess that takes care of the morning.

As the day wore on, customers came in and business returned to normal. Commoners, merchants and laborers all drank together without a care in the world. Even a few low-ranking noblemen mingled without any formality. Claystone was considered a lawless town of sorts, since there was no real enforcement of royal societal rules.

Then one man walked in and went straight for the seat in the middle of the bar. He was dressed too formally to be from the area, and many quickly noticed. Then two more men came in and stood behind him. Even more waited outside in the street. They appeared to be part of a squad of soldiers.

What’ll you have? Alexa asked.

Nothing yet, the first man replied. But I need to speak to the owner of the establishment.

Well, you found her. She opened the tap to fill a clay mug for one of the many other customers.

I understand you turned away some men last night.

I host men of many walks, and I turn away men of many walks.

These would have been of a very specific walk.

Then it sounds like none of my business.

But it is mine.

How is that my problem?

Because—he lowered his hood and exposed the royal armor across his chest—these were my men.

Oh. She sent the mug sliding down to a customer at the end of the bar. Then she turned and leaned dangerously at the man. Well then, I suppose there’s no point in denying it.

Then you admit you refused to serve them?

You better believe I refused. And I’ll admit to knocking out a few teeth in the process.

That is a very serious offense, madam. If you’d like to explain your actions, I’m prepared to listen. Not all of my soldiers are well behaved, but disrespecting a member of the king’s guard is a very serious offense.

King’s guard, you say? The room grew quieter and Alexa’s face broke into a hungry wolf’s grin. Do you have a name, young man?

You may address me as Sir Kelleroth, the second. Knight of the King’s vanguard, at your service.

Your name will do. I don’t need the history.

You have a long tongue for a woman your size.

And you have long hair for a sir.

Three offenses in one day is enough for a hanging.

There were only two that came here last night. Not three.

Yes. And if you insult me again, your total count becomes three.

You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Her grin widened. Oh, how I used to have fun with your ilk …

Cellmack walked back in with a tray of clean mugs. There was a growing silence in the room as he began stacking them on the shelves behind the bar. Drake winked at him before going back to filling drinks for the patrons.

I could arrest you right now, Kelleroth said.

Bahaha! Alexa’s voice raised the ceiling. Don’t even try to threaten me with a good time! Hey, everyone! He wants to arrest me! Shall I show him how it’s done?

Nearly everyone laughed with her, but the room was aligning. Some men quietly left, but many more stayed and came up to the bar. Alexa, Drake and Cellmack made sure all of them were topped up. All except for the knight and his men.

However, Kelleroth didn’t flinch as he reached to his hip. Then his hand came back and he placed two coins on the bar. "Perhaps a drink would be in order instead.

Oh, really? Alexa smiled crazily.

Just a drink. And then perhaps we can let this all go.

Several soldiers walked in from the street, and the numbers began to even out.

Well, that’s mighty tall of you, Alexa said. But I’m afraid it’s impossible.

And why is that?

Oh, no … Cellmack said under his breath.

Oh, yes. Drake reached for his sword behind the door.

Because, Alexa said with a mocking eye, I don’t serve pig, unless it’s on a platter.

The room exploded into a storm of flying chairs, crashing swords and heavy fists. Alexa grabbed one of Cellmack’s new swords and sailed over the bar to join the fight. She was soon on the attack as Kelleroth sidestepped and parried her advance. He was very skilled and seemed to be toying with her at first. He soon realized Alexa could easily hold her own.

You should do something, Cellmack said.

Not yet, Drake replied. She’s never more alive than at times like this. Better sweep the floor with them than me!

You never sweep the floor anyway. But I did have a buyer for that sword—at least I did before she consummated it.

From across the room, Cellmack could see strikes on the cutting edge and winced each time another fragment flew off. All his hard work was slowly being chipped away.

Your own fault for leaving it out. Drake reached for a drink that wasn’t yet spilled. Why are you so worried anyway? It seems to be holding up just fine.

Suddenly one of the patrons took a slash to the arm and was quickly dispatched by the opposing soldier.

All right, that’s enough. Drake grabbed an oil lamp from the wall and went for a bottle under the bar. Then he filled his mouth with alcohol and spat a wide fireball across the room, forcing the soldiers back. With the room divided, he grabbed his sword and slashed his way into the fray.

Kelleroth’s sword suddenly snapped when Alexa lunged into a powerful drop swing. Her hands and the hilt of the sword flashed orange on impact. The piece bounced off the floor and lodged in a rafter over their heads. Even the other men noticed the bladed rattling in the beam.

In a moment of surprise, Kelleroth lost his focus and Alexa broke a bottle across his face. As he crashed to the floor, a small clay capsule fell from his pocket and rolled toward the fire pit. When it met the flames, a powerful explosion blew the windows out and spread the fire across the floor.

The fight poured into the street. Even Cellmack joined in by stealing one of the soldiers’ swords. As more villagers rallied outside, it became clear the knights and their conscripts were outmatched. One by one, they took to their heels and ran. A lone knight stood his ground in front of the tavern but was soon swarmed and beaten unconscious. After having their satisfaction, the mob turned on the rest and ran them out the town.

Only two knights remained, with one lying in the street, and Kelleroth on Alexa’s floor inside. She stepped on Kelleroth and continued to the wounded patron in the corner. One of the other men was already pressing on the wound to slow the bleeding.

It’s all right, she said. Go.

Before Cellmack could bring anything to help, Alexa’s hand began to glow again. Suddenly the wounded man gasped for air and he began coughing. Drake helped roll the heavy man onto his side to clear his throat. Alexa glanced at Cellmack briefly before wiping the blood from her hands and standing up.

He can heal the rest on his own, she said.

Cellmack ran to a rain barrel across the room and toppled it toward the fire. It all snuffed out in one big splash. As the smoke and steam cleared through the broken windows, Cellmack, Drake and Alexa went and sat quietly at the bar. Alexa stabbed the already split floor with the now-used sword.

Nice work, she said.

Thanks, Cellmack replied. I think. The sword had extensive damage to both cutting edges.

Nothing like the smell of burnt bacon in the morning, Drake said before helping himself to an open bottle.

Alexa laughed before turning to a clean cut sheet of paper that Cellmack was reading.

Do you know what this is? Cellmack asked.

I can’t read, Drake said, you should know that by now.

It’s a conscription order, Alexa huffed, still trying to catch her breath. We’ve had landowners from across the river try enforcing them here. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Nothing new.

Good guess, but this one is authentic. My uncle showed me what the royal seal looks like.

Really? She grabbed the paper and looked more closely. Willfur is usually right about these things, but still …

I think we just broke two knights that answer directly to the crown.

Alexa and Drake paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. Cellmack wasn’t laughing. Silence again—all three looked outside at the second man. He was still out cold as a goat began chewing and pulling on his boots. Kelleroth, on the other hand, hadn’t even made it into the street before being knocked out.

Well, now that you mention it, I thought it was strange to see a shire officer wearing silk, said Alexa.

I can’t leave you two alone anymore. Cellmack took a clay bottle and stole a gulp. His face turned green and he choked half of it back up. What is that?

Not too sure but I know I’ve had worse, Drake said. Though I can’t exactly remember when. He looked inside the bottle, shrugged and finished the last swallow in his cup. Seems fine to me. How bad could it be, anyway? Men of this breed rarely like to advertise their heads being handed to them by a woman. He winked at Alexa.

Yes, well, I’m very happy for you two, but that’s not the point. Cellmack pulled the sword from the floor and slammed it loudly on the table in front of them.

Ahh! Drake winced. Was that really necessary?

You see this edge? Cellmack began. This is the highest grade steel I could find, and I have access to the best there is. When I started doing this, the metal would never have chipped against a second-rate shaft like what those jesters out there were swinging—even if it wasn’t at the hands of a war mage like you. He glanced at Alexa. Resources are getting scarce, so the crown is starting to consolidate assets in the valley. I heard about this, but I didn’t think they were this far south yet. Even if they are looters, they could still have the king’s blessing.

I don’t see what the problem is, Alexa said. Dispose of them in the river and the problem goes away.

And you think the palace wouldn’t notice when two of their knights that fail to return from a peaceful little stain in the mud like this? You really think those conscripts will keep quiet?

Well, what do you want then? she snapped. Just let them take everything?

Drake glanced between Alexa and Cellmack without saying a word. Children were already poking the body in the street. One of them squealed when the goat tried chasing them off. Cellmack broke eye contact and started for the door.

First, get him inside before things get any more out of hand! The room spun and he had to catch his footing. And what was that stuff!

"Oh … wait, you drank from this bottle?" Drake held up the unmarked container.

Yes. Why?

I’m not really sure what it is. I think one of the farmers brought it in last night.

"What kind of farmer?"

Calm down. It wasn’t a farmer, Alexa said. One of the soldiers from last night had it with him. He dropped it when we threw him out the door.

Why would they come here for a drink if they already had something that potent?

The same reason nobles do anything else. Because they think they can.

Hmm … Do you have any more of that stuff?

I think it’s a little strong for you, Cellmack.

It’s not for me.

Chapter 2:

Wings in the Wind

The fall harvest was coming to a close. Workers toiled in the fields to glean the last of the crops and deliver them to the protection of the silos. On their usual walk into the village, the air over the valley was eerily clear. Sunlight stabbed through the cloud layer in sharp, orange rays that traced across the landscape as the clouds marched inland. A warm breeze whispered the tall grass in gentle waves across the shallow rolling hills. The air was clear enough to see water birds fast on their migration. It was the time of the harbinger.

At the tavern, Drake was still sipping the mystery whiskey, claiming that he was only doing so to be sure it was indeed as horrible as he thought it might be. I take my new occupation very seriously, he said. But in reality, even as a mercenary, he was known to rely on liquid courage. It had been almost a week since the two knights were carefully fed a heavy dose of good old-fashioned mud water before being dumped in the fields.

They would be lucky to even remember their own names! Drake said.

You seem to have overdone that a little, no? Willfur spoke with a voice that seemed hoarse in recent weeks as he looked over the conscription notice. Other than Cellmack and his uncle, the room was empty of patrons since most every able-bodied hand was in the fields. Not to mention that you forgot to slip this back into one of their pockets before they woke up and wandered north. And what of the toothpick that Alexa blasted through the roof? You think they won’t notice a sword broken in three pieces?

I wish I could be there to see the look on the lord’s face when they report! Drake laughed, as he walked in from the back and dropped a bottle on the counter in front of them. Two of their finest knights flying the banner to the farthest reaches of the valley and they return empty-handed while reeking of river fire and mud water. Proof that justice still lives in the valley! He then tossed back another gulp with a scowl that could scare the cud from a goat’s mouth. Yet he did seem to enjoy it and flashed a crazy grin at Willfur after slamming his empty flask on the counter. Well, what are you waiting for, old man?

Willfur glanced up with a tired stare through his blurry old eyes. Then his heavy hand grabbed the bottle and sloshed its contents before sniffing the opening. He threw it into the fire on the far side of the room. The resulting explosion blew out the new windows and sent birds scrambling skyward. Once the smoke lifted, the old man patiently rested forward on the bar and waited for Drake to poke his head up from the other side.

I’d stop drinking that if I were you. Willfur said.

What kind of alcohol does that?

That isn’t alcohol.

What is it then? Cellmack lowered his arms from his head.

Something that will one day make even your finest swords obsolete. But for a moment, people seem more interested in competing over who will be the first to go blind. Willfur stood up, grabbed his walking stick and started for the door. You still have matters to attend, and you should hurry before the storm.

Yes, Uncle.

The old man emerged from the smoke and stepped into near-blinding sunlight. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that. He whispered to himself, then continued with his usual careful step down the street.

Cellmack and Drake kicked the spilled embers back into the firepit. Drake was oddly silent. Normally he would find something like this rather amusing, often making exaggerated recounts of the event later on. Indeed, there were already plenty of burn marks on the floor. After most of the smoke had cleared, Alexa stepped in through the front door, which promptly fell off its hinges.

What happened here? she asked. Did you start another one without me?

Carrying the weapons on his back through the fields, there was a morbid tension in the air. People were moving as fast as they could to finish the harvest. The clouds allowed a brief glimpse of the blue skies above as sunrays dragged across the land. But to the south, a black wall was rising on the horizon. There was not a sound to be heard but white flashes from behind the veil signaled what was to come. Cellmack quickened his pace.

Toward the bottom of the valley were the remains of a fortress. Its heavy arches were normally impossible to see from so far away due to the stubborn haze. Ice and storms had battered its stone walls over the last two