by C S Vass
Robert made for the door. But something felt very wrong to Godwin. “Wait,” the Shigata said.
“Hm?”
“Robert…I owe you an apology. Damn it, probably several apologies.”
“Oh?”
“Listen…what I did was wrong. I used you as bait. I treated you as less than an equal. True you’re not the fighter I am, but you’ve been a valuable companion. I did you wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Robert’s face remained cold while he studied the Shigata, his hand still on the doorknob. Finally, he nodded and said seriously, “Thank you. Now get some rest, Godwin. You’ll want to be in full health when you see the bill I’ve racked up here in your name.”
Chapter 19
“Valencia.”
The word sounded surreal even as Yaura spoke it. Though only a few weeks ago they had been on the other side of the continent, somehow they had managed to survive Killer’s Rest, brave the Jagjaw Mountains, and cross that most dangerous portion of the Southlands that teetered on the edge of the Blood Wood. Faela still couldn’t believe that they made that final part of the journey without incident, but here they were. The city ruled by Sylvester Shade, Demon of the South, sprawled before them with only the Eternal Sea stretching out beyond it.
“Didn’t think I’d live to see it,” Tzuri-kai said.
“Keep your wits about you,” Yaura said seriously. “Or you won’t live to see the outside of it.”
Faela waited for some smart-mouth response from the dwarf, but Tzuri-kai merely nodded.
Valencia marked something of a crossroads for Faela. It was a city where civilization and savagery met. The people there were hardened from living on the border of the Blood Wood as well as hardened from living under the rule of Western Gaellos’s most fearsome lord.
“It’s hard to believe the bloodshed that’s rumored to take place down there,” Faela said. They were on a high hill a few miles outside of the city, looking down at its crooked stone towers and winding cobble roads bathed in dirty light from a pink sunset.
“You best believe it,” Yaura said. “Much of it is aimed at elves like yourself. If we’re to take our task seriously, we should do everything to draw attention from ourselves.”
Tzuri-kai shifted where he stood. “That will be hard if we enter the city as we are,” he said.
Yaura nodded seriously. Faela understood. In a city that was undergoing so much racial turmoil and violence, a human Shigata, a Star-blessed elf, and a raucous, foul-mouthed dwarf traveling together would surely bring an unwanted gaze.
“What should we do then?” Faela asked. “Split up?”
Yaura nodded. “I think that would be best. We needn’t all go separate directions. But I have business at Shade’s castle. I’ll travel there and alert him to the need to send the Shigata back to Black Wolf. It’s doubtful he’ll care. Perhaps he views we who hold the thrygta with the same low-esteem as the others he finds so undesirable. In any case, I still have an obligation to try.”
“What of us then?” Tzuri-kai asked. “I’ve made plain I’m not ready to die for Kark, but I gave my word I’d send his message, and I don’t intend to break it.”
“That’s fine,” Yaura said. “My understanding is that the elves, dwarves, and ogres of Valencia are sectioned off in a quarter of the city known as the Skullgardens. Go there. See what you can learn of the state of things.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Faela asked, suddenly anxious. “Go into the heart of these Skullgardens and start a revolution.”
“No,” Yaura said sternly. “We’re not here to start a war. This is an information-gathering mission. We’re simply travelers passing through. If you find any friendly leaders in the Skullgardens, pass on Kark’s message, but take no action. After that…”
“After that, what?” Faela asked. She suddenly realized that ever since traveling with the Shigata, Valencia seemed like it was the end of the world. It was so far off there was no need to think about what would happen after. Now that they were here…
“I will return to Black Wolf,” Yaura said. Suddenly, she turned to Faela and met her with a serious silence.
“What?” she asked.
“Faela,” Yaura said. “Your plan is to return to Iryllium on the orders of King Boldfrost. You can of course do that. But…”
“But what?” Faela asked. The half-elf swallowed and took a step back. She had never seen Yaura look at her like that.
“I don’t know what awaits you in Iryllium,” Yaura went on. “But, if you wanted, you would be welcome on Black Wolf.”
“What are you—”
“The Shigata have been devastated. We need to rebuild. We need to recruit. As a Dragon you would be a valuable asset. You could join us if you wanted.”
“You mean…become a Shigata?” Faela was dumbstruck. In all her time traveling with Yaura, such a thought had not so much as flickered across her mind. “Are you serious?”
“Bloody mother,” Tzuri-kai said.
“No one plans on becoming a Shigata,” Yaura said quickly. “Those of our order are found by circumstance. Don’t answer me now. Just think on it.”
Faela tried to speak, but words utterly failed her. She couldn’t become a Shigata. She had to go back to Tallium. To her life there. It had been so long. There was still a life for her in Tallium, wasn’t there?
“The sun is setting,” Yaura said. “We should reach Valencia before nightfall. We’ve been lucky so far, but it would be the height of stupidity to allow some incident to befall us now.”
“Aye,” Tzuri-kai agreed. “Figure out your plans once we have the safety of city walls around us.”
“I don’t know how much safety we can hope to find within those walls,” Faela said sadly. “But all the same, let’s go.”
The group moved silently down the hills, and once they were within a mile of Valencia, they broke up. Faela and Tzuri-kai moved to the southern road, and Yaura stayed on the eastern path to the city. The half-elf and dwarf travelled in silence, painfully aware that the welcome they were about to receive would be far from warm.
They reached a thick metal gate manned by three guards wielding swords and torches. Sunlight had died from the skies just before they arrived, and the stars above them swirled like the clouds of a hurricane. “That portends nothing good,” Tzuri-kai said with an upward glance at the turbulent heavens.
“State your business,” a fat guard with an ugly patch of a mustache shouted as they approached. All three wore blue overcoats with large silver buttons and strange large-brimmed hats, each of which had one side folded towards the center while the other fell slanted to shield their eyes.
“We seek entry into the city,” Tzuri-kai said, puffing his chest.
The guard smirked. “Very well. Welcome to Valencia.”
Faela and Tzuri-kai exchanged nervous glances at each other as the gate opened before them. Half expecting a surprise attack, Faela’s hand drifted to her sword without her even realizing it.
“No need for that, elf,” the guard laughed with a wicked grin. “All are welcome in Valencia.”
Faela quickly took her hand off of her blade as she and Tzuri-kai passed through the gate. “The shit-eating liar will plunge his blade in our backs the moment we give him half a chance,” Tzuri-kai muttered. “We’re not welcome here, Faela. I can feel it in the air. Don’t let your guard down.”
Within Valencia’s walls the city was empty. Unlike Tallium’s carefully planned structures or even Iryllium’s haphazardly constructed roads, Valencia was chaos embodied in architecture. Winding paths circled each other endlessly inside a labyrinth of confusion. Spaces with no rhyme or reason to their architecture changed from stone towers to squat houses to empty lots filled with nothing but black mud. Stairs would lead upwards only to end in plateaus with nothing on them and nowhere to go.
“A city built by the blind,” Tzuri-kai scoffed after they had wandered for an hour without so much as detecting a hint of where they should go.
“No dwarven architect had a hand in this.”
“I don’t like it here,” Faela said. “The air…it tastes funny.”
“Aye,” Tzuri-kai agreed. “There’s rot in the air. Death.”
As Faela’s legs started to ache from walking on uneven roads, a voice from the shadows called out to them. “Not that way. You’ll find trouble.”
Turning, Faela saw that the one who spoke was a feeble old elf lying in the gutter. He wore tattered clothes that were entirely inadequate for the cold, and only one shoe. His bare foot was a wreckage of blood and blisters.
Faela moved towards the elder elf. “What do you mean, grandfather?” she asked.
He met her eyes and smiled. “A northerner. It’s been a long time. You shouldn’t have come to Valencia.”
“Well we’re here,” Tzuri-kai butted in. “And we need to rest our heads for the night. We have coin. Where can we go?”
A serene look passed over the elder elf’s face. Faela suddenly noticed the shimmer in his eyes, his dilated pupils, and his complete obliviousness to the cold. He had obviously been sniffing narcotics.
“The Skullgardens,” the elf said after a time. “There is a Temple of Ice and Shadow. It’s run by elves. They’ll welcome you. But beware. They’re haunted by the red ghost. Keep your distance. But they’ll let you sleep. Still…better to stay out-of-doors like me.”
“What do you mean?” Faela asked. “What’s this red ghost?”
“Follow the willow trees,” the elf said, ignoring Faela’s question. “Each one will take you a step closer. You’ll find the Temple. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Come with us,” Faela urged. “We’ll pay for you.”
“No,” the elf said firmly. “The red ghost. I dare not. But you asked. I warned you. Cold is better. But that’s where you can go. The only place. No one else will let you in. Too much suspicion.”
“Come now, old man,” Tzuri-kai barked. “What’s this red ghost? We’re not children to be frightened by such tales.”
The old elf couldn’t respond. He had fallen asleep.
“Well, come on,” Tzuri-kai said, pointing towards a willow tree. “Let’s see if the old lunatic had a lick of sense about him.”
“We can’t leave him,” Faela protested.
“He asked us to,” Tzuri-kai replied. “Come on.” Without waiting for her, he quickly turned and moved towards the tree.
Faela stood, uncertain. She glanced at the peaceful, sleeping face of the old elf. Heart aching with sorrow, she cursed Sylvester Shade with every curse she knew. Then she followed Tzuri-kai.
The old elf did not mislead them. The confusing mess of streets and stairs suddenly clarified when they knew the pattern to look for. Following the willow trees eventually led them to a large gable-roofed building marked with the symbols of the Temple.
“What do you think about the red ghost?” Faela asked as they approached.
“The ravings of a drug-induced fever-dream,” Tzuri-kai said. “Or maybe not. We’ll find out.”
Faela’s stomach was in knots as they approached the Temple. The destitution and degradation of the people of Valencia disgusted her. How could such be taking place when everyone knew it? She was not naïve about poverty and illness. She knew what to expect upon entering Valencia. But it didn’t seem to matter. Somehow, this little pocket of hell known as the Skullgardens exceeded even the worst of her already bleak expectations.
Tzuri-kai knocked on the door which was answered by a long-faced elf in black and silver robes. Upon seeing them a look of relief spread over his face. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“We need a place to stay,” Faela said. “We were told to come here. We can pay.”
The elf nodded. “Come in. You don’t have to pay. But donations are accepted if you would like to help the Temple. Now come in.”
Shutting the door behind them, the two entered into a dark hallway lit every few paces by lonely candles that flickered weakly against the darkness. It wasn’t much warmer inside than it was outside.
The group exchanged names. Their host, Monk Yelvin, told them that he had been running the Temple in the Skullgardens for forty years.
“I have to ask,” Monk Yelvin said after introductions had been made. “Have you been visited by the red ghost?”
Faela and Tzuri-kai glanced at each other. “Truth be told, we don’t know what that is,” Faela said.
“Ah, I see you’re new to the city,” Yelvin replied as he peered down at them over his half-moon lenses that rested on a slightly crooked nose. “I’m afraid you’ve picked a bad time to come to Valencia.”
“Monk Yelvin,” Faela said. “I realize it’s late, but perhaps there’s somewhere where we could sit and talk for a while. There’s much I would like to ask you.”
Monk Yelvin nodded. “Very well. Follow me.”
He led them down several winding dark hallways. They passed rooms without doors covered by sheets tacked to the entryways. Inside many of them, Faela could see stacked bodies sleeping together in tight groups. There was coughing, wheezing, and moaning coming from many of the rooms.
At last, Yelvin took them into a small room in the back that seemed to serve as a workspace for him. There was a single candle on a wooden table meant to be worked at with one’s knees on the ground and a bed of straw in the corner. Sitting cross-legged around the table, Monk Yelvin gestured for them to do the same.
“Now,” he said once they were settled. “I gather the sense that you’re not here in Valencia for pleasure.”
“No,” Faela said. “We’re not. Tell me, in your own words, what is happening here in Valencia? The world outside swirls with rumors, but I want to know straight from your mouth what the state of things is here.”
Monk Yelvin sighed as a pained look came across his face. Standing, he opened a cabinet and took out a jug of wine and three glasses. Pouring, he said, “I apologize for the weak quality of the wine, but if we’re going to speak of such matters, I think a drink would help all of us.”
Faela nodded. Monk Yelvin wasn’t lying. The wine was so weak she might have mistaken it for water.
“So, you want to know what’s happening here,” Yelvin said. “The short answer is that they are pushing us out. Shade’s city administrators have started by quarantining us here in the Skullgardens. Any wealthy or skilled elves, dwarves, and ogres are being pushed out of their careers, swindled out of their wealth, or meeting an accidental death. There have been many sham trials with Shade’s justices administering anything but.
“Worse, the red ghost haunts the Skullgardens. It is a terrible illness. Many here in the Temple have it. The body convulses, and motor function is gradually lost. Victims are hit by chills, fever, and eventually death.”
“Why do they call it the red ghost?” Tzuri-kai asked.
Monk Yelvin sighed. “Because the infected can be spotted by a deep red coloring of their skin, particularly around the eyes, when they enter into the later stages of the disease. Since the cause is unknown, the public has taken up the idea that it is a ghost that haunts them.”
Faela felt like throwing up. All of these people in the Skullgardens without medicine or money or hope. It was an abomination. “You don’t think—”
“That this disease has come from Shade’s court?” Yelvin finished for her. “The cruelty of it would not surprise me. But I’m not convinced that Shade has such abilities. I would sooner point the finger at the extreme poverty in which the people are forced to live. But all the same, Shade is responsible for that without a doubt, and his men use it as an excuse to say that we non-humans are dirty, disease ridden, and unfit to live in the city.”
“Intolerable,” Tzuri-kai muttered.
“And growing worse every day,” Yelvin agreed. “You see, it’s hard enough to sustain this problem as it is. But we have the additional challenge of keeping it under control when so many new immigrants from Jagjaw arrive every day.”
“We just came from
bloody Jagjaw,” Tzuri-kai growled. “I’d rather brave the mountains than this disgrace of a city!”
“Forgive me for saying,” Monk Yelvin said. “But that may be true of a healthy, well-armed dwarf traveling with a Star-blessed elf. But most of these people, sick and helpless as they are, would perish in the mountains.”
“What are you going to do?” Faela asked.
“What am I going to do?” Yelvin asked, arching a brow. “I’m going to do my best to help these people survive. I’m going to treat the sick, give what alms I can to the poor, and try to convince the guards to leave us be.”
“They won’t,” Faela said. “They won’t leave you be. That much is obvious.”
“The Bluecloaks are vicious,” Yelvin admitted. “And we have very little power.”
“Blue—oh the guards,” Faela realized.
“What if there was help to be had?” Tzuri-kai asked.
“Help?” Yelvin asked. “Help from who? From our allies in Jagjaw who are dying in mass from the influx of demons? From King Boldfrost who turns his back every time we ask for aid? Tell me, Tzuri-kai, where would help come from?”
Tzuri-kai looked around the room. “We have spoken with the bandit king known as Kark in Killer’s Rest. He is, sympathetic to your plight.”
Yelvin laughed sadly. “Oh, is that right? A bandit king will bring his armies across the Southlands, avoid the attention of spies in service to Shade or Boldfrost, and lay siege to the city to liberate us? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Tzuri-kai sighed. “I make no pretense at setting grand plans in motions, Monk Yelvin. I merely am telling you that he is sympathetic.”
To Faela’s surprise she found herself moved to speak. “It’s better than doing nothing!” she snapped. “This can’t go on. Something is going to change.”
“Something will change,” Yelvin said. “Or have you not looked up to the heavens? My job is to make sure that the people here survive whatever that change is.”
Faela bit her lip. What could they hope to accomplish with a population so sickly and destitute? “Fighting might be impossible,” she admitted. “But what about fleeing?”