Chapter 1: The Faceless four

[Elmander Reckheart]

Kelrym.

It wasn't known to many people outside of the channeller community, being way out in the sticks. On face value, to travelling folk, it was a beautiful and peaceful village in the heart of the country that just kept itself to itself and was relatively pleasing on the eye. If you approached it from the west, as most people did, you would find yourself leaving a red, dusty and beaten dirt track that traversed endless plains and hills of all heights and breadths behind you to transition to a paved brick road, painted a silvery white that glistened in the sun. The dry reeds of long grass and uneven moors that stretch out beside the path into the beyond suddenly stop, merging into the first fringes of foliage and flora that led you into the entrance of Kelrym village.

It was a path that Elmander Reckheart knew very well, and had travelled many times on his way to work at Kelrym’s timber mill, owned and run by his grandfather Arius. As the mid-day sun beat down upon his shoulders, he took the first step back onto the brick paving he was so used to walking, and heaved an exhausted sigh, pausing for a moment.

He stood completely still, closed his eyes, and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. He delighted in the feel of cool air filling his lungs, soothing them, and most pleasantly caught the fresh scent of lavender in his nose. It was an invigorating and refreshing aroma.

“Home again, mate. No feeling like it in the world after a day like that. Even so, I could really do with a pint and a soak in some hot water somewhere, if you get what I mean?”

Beside the young man Reckheart walked a giant of a man by the name of Ross Heachkay. He had a heavily drawn face, a strong jaw with a neck like a tree trunk, and a torso that looked as if it had been chiselled from rock. Hazel eyes, short dark hair and a three day old stubble beard surrounding a clean toothed smile that looked more like a grin. Over his left shoulder he carried a huge barrel headed warhammer, it’s carved, spiralling metal runes scuffed and scratched from overuse. In his right hand, a small box of fresh meat for supper.

Ross carefully placed the meat crate and his hammer down at the side of the road before taking a seat, cross legged, at the edge of the paving, wiping his sweat drenched brow.

“I hear you. That was a hard graft today, deserving of a few cheeky ones in the Monkey. Bit of lunch first, though, I think. In this box…” he said, gesturing to the wooden crate beside him “…I have some Velmar steak. Good stuff, this. Ever had it, Elm?”

Elmander shook his head, taking a swig of water from a small leather pouch on his belt. He then chucked it over to Ross, letting loose a satisfied gasp before putting his hands behind his head, brushing aside his blonde locks.

“Velmar isn’t something I ever really tried, to be honest. What kind of meat is it? What’s it from?”

Being the giant of a man as he was, Ross was always keen to introduce people to the joys of protein and red meat.

“I found this at work and I was going to keep it for a special occasion, but it doesn’t keep well in the heat, so it needs to be eaten quickly.” Ross tapped on the crate with a finger.

“Basically, Velmar is a predatory bird that feeds off other wandering animals in the forest. I'd say, at a guess, an adult could stand at six foot. Not the kind of animal you want to get on the bad side of either, as they are pretty hostile.” Rossy paused, and got to his feet, adopting a strange crane like pose.

Elmander raised an eyebrow.

“Right, so what’s all that about?”

“They stand like this if you agitate them, and then they strike at their prey with these big bastard claws that are coated with toxins. You’ve got no chance if they hit you though so you have to be very careful around them. Now, they spend a lot of the time hunting so their bodies are well trained and because of that the meat is delicious, especially the breast, although you have to be careful not to come into contact with the claws. If you kill one you are guaranteed a good meal, so long as the rest of the pack doesn’t see you before you make off with their mate.”

Elmander nodded slowly, but needed to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since the start of the story.

“I think I may know the answer to this but how did you kill it, exactly?”

Ross motioned towards the hammer. Elmander sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m amazed you salvaged anything at all. A bit over the top, isn’t it?”

Ross shrugged.

“Killed the bastard, didn’t it? I did the rest with a filleting knife and got the best cut of meat from the breast before the rest of its pack turned up. Anyway, I wasn’t about to get into a punch up with a Velmar. I may be big, but I’m not stupid. Besides, it’s not like I can use any of that channelling malarkey that you lot do to protect me. Nope! All brains and brawn here, sweetheart.”

Elmander laughed, adjusting a sack he was carrying on his back as he did. The image of a punch up between this deadly species of bird, able to rip all manner of creatures limb from limb, and Ross, the gentle giant, warmed his heart.

“Anyway…” Ross began again, collecting his belongings from the pavement and standing upright again “If you’re game, I’ll do you a bit when we get back. I don’t know about you but I’m famished mate.”

“Sounds good to me lad.” Elmander said with a smile. He was starting to get hungry from all the talk of steak, and could feel his stomach groan at him. He looked up at the sun for a moment, and then straight ahead to his destination, wishing for the ability to teleport to the nearest kitchen.

After a few more minutes of walking, the paved brick road suddenly narrowed into a smaller track, one flanked by shrubberies and bushes, and one that flirted with edges of green grass lawns adorning the fronts of thatched cottages built of timber and stone. Purple lavender and brightly coloured crocuses skirted the roadside and small birds swooped and darted over the path that carved an eastern dogleg between the village’s two halves, navigating around plumes of white smoke from the chimneys of various houses.

Kelrym at last.

The scent of baking bread, lavender, pine and freshly cut grass all melded together to create an unusually sweet, pleasant aroma associated only with Kelrym, as far as Elmander was concerned, and as he and Ross strolled up towards the Drunken Monkey tavern, Reckheart knew it was good to be home once again.

[Elmander Reckheart]

It’s not until you have been away from home for a couple of days that you really notice the finer details of your surroundings when you get back. Chipped paint, a crack in a pane of glass, the stench of urine from a nearby tavern wall, all the small details that Elmander had taken for granted at the Drunken Monkey tavern until now.

He stood next to, and dwarfed by, Ross outside the front door of their favourite watering hole. A set of four grey stone slabs, cracked and mossy, set into a slanting pavement formed stairs leading to a heavy, square panelled oak door with a single tile missing in place of a barred window and a rusted iron ring door handle. A half metre wide strip of white paintwork on the outer walls of the tavern, if you could call it paintwork, had peeled off to reveal a patch of worn red brickwork next to an arched window, through which the early afternoon patrons of the tavern could be seen making a start on a hard afternoon’s drinking.

“It’s become a bit of a shithole, really.” Observed Elmander, very matter-of-factly. Ross looked at him quizzically.

“What do you mean ‘become’? It’s always been an absolute shed to look at, even if it is our shed. We’ve only been out of Kelrym four days, mate.”

“Even so…” Elmander quipped “I don’t remember it being this bad. This is like the devil’s arse compared to the rest of the village.”

“Ugh.” Ross groaned. “Do you want a pint or not? Come on.”

Elmander sighed, stepping up the stone slabs and wrenching the iron ring to the left, free of its catch. With a gentle push the door swung open and daylight poured into the Drunken Monkey inn.

The interior of the inn was an improvement on the exterior that was for sure. When you stepped through the door’s stone archway, the room felt as if it opened up before you. The surprisingly clean floor was laid from various pink, grey and brown hues of slate and stone, cracked and tessellated into irregular shapes across the expanse of the room, held together with cement. Thick legged wooden tables carved from birch populated the drinking area, surrounded by four legged bar stools of the same wood and just less than half of them were filled with drinkers already, even at this hour. To the left was the bar, a small area benched off with a pine counter, and stocked to the nines with kegs of beer, stacked four high across the wall and around a small stone enclave behind the serving area.

“Looks like they’ve had a bit of a tidy up since the last time when we were in here, mate.”

Yeah, it does look pretty clean compared to last time alright, Elmander thought. Probably because the last time they were in there, you skulled someone with bar furniture, and splintered wood mixed with patron blood is a pain in the arse to clean up.

“Yeah, looks that way. Get us a table lad, and give us that Velmar steak. I’ll ask Etchells to stick it on for us.”

“Sure.” Ross opened the crate, and carefully handed Elmander a cut of Velmar. It looked thick and delicious, and a few hungry eyes cast their glances towards it. Ross could have sworn he heard a few lips being licked, and protectively clenched the box to his body. “Make it quick mate. Mine’s a pint of Death’s Head, too. Here’s a few coins, and it would be nice to see change.”

Elmander strolled to the bar, but as he approached it he caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. His blonde hair was shabby and in need of a wash, and his face had a three day growth of ginger stubble on it that he hadn’t even noticed before. His clothes looked like they needed a change, with a small tear in his left knee threatening to rip further.

Bloody hell. I need a bath.

“Reckheart, I’ll solve the riddle for you if you like; you look like shit. Give me that steak and I’ll put it on the spit for you. What are you having to drink?”

Etchells was considered the ultimate publican by many. Never short of a wisecrack, great beer or a good punch up, the peaceful village of Kelrym was all the more exciting for his presence. He was a lanky bloke with a goatee, and an almost to-the-knuckle haircut, but he was built and could handle himself. Essentials of the trade.

Elmander liked him, and shook his hand warmly with a smile as he offered it, followed by the cut of steak.

“You know what looks like shit, Etchells? The outside of this place. Two Death Head’s please.”

The barman nodded, pulling two silver tankards from underneath the counter and releasing the keystones from two kegs behind him.

“Say, is the big man over there all calmed down now?” Etchells enquired, nodding at Ross, who gave him a big thumbs up and a wink in return.

“Aye. Sorry about the mess last time. You did a good job cleaning up by the looks of it.”

“Well…” Etchells started “…the blood took a little while longer to scrub out of my nice paving but to be honest with you, that bloke was nothing but trouble. Ross did us a favour. Next time, take it outside though, yeah? I don’t want to have to bar you boys, you keep me in a good living. I’ll bring the steak over when it’s done.”

Elmander handed over to Etchells the coins Ross gave him, and took the beers by the handles. They looked and smelled tremendous, proper ale brewed from the toxins in the Death’s Head mushroom local to Kelrym. Smooth taste, guaranteed to get you pissed.

"Oh, one more thing Elm..." Etchells said, handing a few silver pieces change over the counter, which elmander pocketed. "While you were gone, the Council organised a meeting for all channellers, and I think it's for tomorrow."

"Really?" Elmander looked at Etchells over the lip of his tankard, sipping the edge of the liquid to stop it from spilling before he carried them back to the tables. "Arius didn't say anything to me about it. What time is it supposed to be?"

"Three in the afternoon I think. We're meeting at Sanctuary."

Sanctuary? Elmander thought, puzzled. No-one from the council has had a meeting there in years.

"I see. Thanks." Elmander tipped his head in thanks to Etchells, and span around to deliver the beers to his waiting friend.

“So…” Elmander started, pulling the stool from behind him to underneath his arse. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about, anyway, now that we’re home. It’s about Kerim.”

“Kerim?” Ross’s eyebrows perked. "Your hot sister?"

Elmander frowned.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, mate. That’s family, there. Anyway, she’s away at her calling at the moment, right?”

Ross took a sip from his Death’s Head, the black liquid sliding down his throat with ease. He recoiled a little from the initial kick, before giving out a satisfied belch.

“Yeah. From what you told me, that’s when a channeller…erm…”

Elmander sighed, taking a sip from his own beer. The kick hit him harder than Ross, making him almost instantly vomit, much to Ross’s amusement.

“Ugh. Sorry, I thought i'd told you. Basically, in the same way that everyone has a different personality, channellers like me each all have a different way of expressing our powers. As you know, I can change my physical form depending on what element I call upon. Some people like Dave Nilsar from the village, for example, can augment weapons and High Councilor Arius, my grandfather, was able to control the elements to the point of being able to summon lightning from the sky.”

Elmander took another sip, and eyed Ross to see if he was still paying attention. It looked as if he was, so he carried on.

“If and when Kerim succeeds, she'll be a fully fledge channeller. She's already mentioned to me that she wants to start travelling as soon as she gets certification, so I wanted to start organising some sort of celebration for her, you know? If she is as keen as she says she is, she isn't going to want to stick around Kelrym much longer.”

This piqued Ross’s interest even more. He leaned over, stroking his stubble beard, and Elmander watched as his expression turned to one of mischief.

“Well, mate. If it's a party you want, you asked the right guy.”