The Gaellean Prophecy Series Box Set

by C S Vass

  What was he doing in this oddball town? Why was he diverting his attention away from the task at hand? He was to find Lyra and ensure her safety. That was the whole point. But that was just the story of his life, he reflected somewhat sadly. I was to go to the University of Magic and Mathematics in Brentos, but then got sidetracked by the war. I was to rise through the ranks of the military with honor, but became a Shigata. I was to live out my days as a wanderer, but then Torin betrayed us and here I am. Am I a man or a leaf to be blown by every stray gust of wind?

  No answer came to him, though he dwelled on that question for several hours. It was only in the quiet of his room with no sounds but Robert’s snores and the gentle blowing of the wind did he make up his mind. No more getting sidetracked. He would fulfill the obligations he had made for himself, but after that he would dedicate himself completely to finding Lyra and then rebuilding the Shigata.

  Rising from the floor, he knew his night was far from over. He had business down by the river.

  Chapter 14

  The Temple of Ice and Shadow reeked of death. The smell attacked Yaura’s nostrils the moment she set foot inside the dreary building, filling them with the mixed odors of weeping sores, stale air, and decaying corpses. The old monk who greeted her saw her discomfort and gave her a sad grin. “My apologies about the state of things,” he said. “The red ghost has haunted our streets for far too long. The infected have nowhere to come but here. When they die, I have nowhere to place them.”

  “You needn’t apologize for your generosity Monk…”

  “Yelvin,” the man said. “My name is Monk Yelvin. I watch over this temple and any who choose to come here.”

  Yaura bowed her head respectfully and gave her own name. “I understand that you’re quite overwhelmed at the moment. If you could find space for me to sleep through the night, I would be most grateful. I have money, though not much of it. I’d be happy to make a donation to the temple.”

  Monk Yelvin waved off her comment. “If you choose to make a donation, please do so knowing it has no bearing on your ability to stay the night. There is room in the basement if you are willing to sleep on a straw mattress.”

  “Straw might as well be goose down and fine linens given the choices I have right now,” Yaura said. “I would be happy to accept.”

  Monk Yelvin smiled benevolently. Something about his earnest face put Yaura on guard. The way he looked at her… it was almost as if he recognized her. But that could hardly be possible. She hadn’t been to Valencia in many years, and she hardly thought Sylvester Shade would allow a man surrounded by the red ghost to step within one-hundred feet of his castle.

  Still, the feeling nagged her. “I’m sorry,” Yaura said. “But you didn’t ask if I have the sickness. Wouldn’t that have some bearing on where you decide to place me?”

  Yelvin chuckled at that as he led her down the temple’s long hallways. “I’m not concerned, Yaura. You don’t seem to have the smell of sickness about you.”

  Yaura found it a wonder that the monk could smell anything but sickness in the hellish cauldron of disease he oversaw, but decided to keep that thought to herself. If he chose to spare her from a night in a sick room filled with dying men shitting out the last of their lifeblood, well, that was a decision she was perfectly fine with.

  “Here we are,” he said after navigating a series of quick hallways in the temple basement. The room was about all she could hope to expect: a lumpy straw mattress, a window thats breeze she could feel from the doorway, all of it illuminated by a weak flickering candle on a table that looked ready to buckle at so much as the weight of an elbow.

  “It’s not much,” Yelvin said.

  It took all of Yaura’s self-control not to agree. “It’s splendid. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. I only ask in return that you don’t vanish in the night on me. I would like to discuss something with you come the dawn.”

  Yaura didn’t like the way he looked at her with those searching eyes. Every instinct she had was screaming that the monk was hiding something. “I’m quite happy to hear whatever it is you have to say now,” she said.

  Yelvin chuckled. “Alas, but I am not. The days are long, and I find that after thinking of sleep throughout my labors, it rarely finds me when I rest my head. I am tired and need to rest for the night. But we will speak in the morning.”

  Yaura nodded uncertainly. “Very well then,” she said. “I will see you at daybreak.”

  With that Monk Yelvin made his departure, leaving Yaura to the sad, chilly room. With her sword propped on the wall beside her, the Shigata searched for some comfort in sleep, but her anxieties prevented her from finding it. She should not have acted so rashly with the Bluecoats. Who did such actions benefit? Shade would likely be out for revenge against her. Possibly revenge against any Shigata who wandered across his path. Worse still, such behavior was utterly out of character. True, she had always had a temper, but never before had she acted with such sanguinary impulsiveness. In truth, it frightened her. Reckless butchery could win a battle, sure enough, but it was the cool-headed ones who prevailed in war. Gods above knew what kind of fight she would have in front of her now.

  Deciding against sleep entirely, Yaura rose from the bed, lit the candle, and paced about the room. She needed to decide what she was going to do. Everything had become such a mess. Should she stay in the city despite recent events and search for Faela and Tzuri-kai, or simply return to Black Wolf in hopes of meeting up with Godwin and the other Shigata? Her order would have to be restored sooner or later. While she was used to striking out on her own, sometimes for a year or more without seeing another Shigata, it was deeply discomforting to know that there was no central stronghold of Unduyo, no Sages to manage the affairs of Western Gaellos’s best killers.

  A rain began to fall, pattering in fat droplets against the window. For a moment Yaura thought she heard deep rolling thunder, but it was just moaning from those haunted by the red ghost within the temple. Death and misery. Those were the only constants everywhere she went. Maybe Faela and Tzuri-kai will be better off without me. If I stay, I’ll attract naught but Bluecoats, and should they be captured alongside me I can’t imagine Sylvester Shade’s men will have any sympathies for a Star-blessed half-elf and a dwarf. Then again, it might be worth it just to see the looks on their faces when they realize that Faela’s a Dragon.

  Moaning continued to echo faintly through the temple walls. Yaura was unconcerned with the red ghost. There was something about the Shigata lifestyle that led one to accept luck as a major factor in the outcome of things. Though she would have to make a point to go out and eat something other than bread or meat. She had a suspicion that the diet of Valencia’s impoverished citizens, which from what she understood resulted in apples being rarer than unicorns, might have at least a part to play in the rampant spread of the disease.

  Such thoughts chased each other in Yaura’s head for most of the night, and by morning her mind was still as cloudy as the storm clouds that lingered above the city. Yaura was no closer to choosing a path forward. She had forgotten entirely about Monk Yelvin’s request to speak with her until he showed up at her door, smiling falsely.

  “I hope you found your accommodations acceptable, my child,” he said while rubbing his sweaty face. He looked about as tired as she felt, with drooping bags under the eyes of his gaunt face.

  It took a great deal of discipline for Yaura to wear a false smile of her own, but somehow she managed. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated Monk Yelvin. I am well-rested, and ready to be on my way.”

  “You must stay for breakfast,” the monk insisted immediately. “We do not have much, but there is wafer bread and root stew. There is not clean water, but you may have a cup of beer or coffee if you like.”

  Yelvin laughed, presumably at Yaura’s reaction. “I see the food is of little interest,” he said. “But I admit I’m curious, do your eyes widen at the prospect of beer or coffee?”
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  “The latter,” Yaura said, nearly drooling at the thought of the steaming hot beverage. Something to ease her fatigue and take the chill off of her was too much to hope for a moment ago. “Grant me a cup and rest-assured, you will have my attention for the rest of the morning.”

  A few minutes later Yaura found herself in a dusty room with a cup of steaming hot coffee opposite Monk Yelvin, who sat behind a plain desk scattered with several parchment papers. “Well, Monk Yelvin, I hope I won’t offend you if I ask to get straight to the point. I would like to have Valencia at least ten or fifteen miles behind me by the time I make camp tonight, and I’m not entirely sure which direction I’m heading in to be perfectly honest with you.” Of course, Yaura was not sure she was set to leave Valencia at all yet, but she thought that saying she was would likely prevent the monk from asking her for anything too time-consuming.

  Monk Yelvin smiled once more. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re considering leaving the city before retrieving your comrades. I’m certain that Faela and Tzuri-kai would be most disappointed in your lack of loyalty to them.”

  The words hit Yaura like a blow in the stomach. Eyes narrowing, she asked, “Who the hell are you?”

  “Calm yourself, Yaura,” he said with that same obnoxious, all-knowing smile. “I am a friend. Or at least, I hope to be. Your comrades stayed here for a time. You know, they had quite a role to play in the recent scuffles in the Skullgardens.”

  Yaura could feel the wind expel from her nostrils as she eyed the monk. Keeping her anger to a simmer, she said, “Very well. You know two of my acquaintances. What of it?”

  Yelvin laughed, a condescending chuckle that only further irritated the Shigata, turning the soothing taste of hot coffee bitter in her mouth. “You seek to distance yourself from them then? That would be wise if you were still strutting about Sylvester Shade’s court. I assure you, here in the Skullgardens we take quite a different view of things. But let us stop dancing around the subject at hand. Your friends—and yes, they are your friends, Yaura—are in danger.”

  Staring at Monk Yelvin through the light of two thin flickering candles, Yaura tried to keep her face expressionless. “Okay then, out with it,” she said. “What is it that you have to tell me?”

  Monk Yelvin was still for a few moments, perhaps considering how best to phrase whatever he was going to say. “Faela and Tzuri-kai became involved in an effort to liberate a group of the non-humans here in Valencia by stealing a ship and sailing them up the western coast towards friendlier lands. The effort, in short, was unsuccessful. Bluecoats were dispatched to the Skullgardens and much bloodshed followed. Faela and Tzuri-kai were captured by Shade’s men, and we can assume that they are currently being held in one of his dungeons.”

  Yaura quickly turned that information over in her mind, searching for anything that might indicate Yelvin trying to deceive her. She had been staying in Shade’s castle at the time that these events supposedly transpired. How was it possible that she had not heard of them? She knew that there were minor disturbances. But a massacre? Was it possible that Shade and his court had kept her ignorant on purpose? It hardly seemed impossible. But why do that, only to send her in afterwards with a group of Bluecoats?

  “You look troubled,” Yelvin commented. “And troubling it is. But you also look terribly suspicious. Tell me, Yaura, what makes you doubt what I say? I’ll see what I can do to put your mind at rest.”

  Yaura sighed. If Yelvin really was puppeteering some kind of master conspiracy, then he likely already knew all about her actions in the city, anyway. “Until recently I was a guest of the Rosewalk. I spoke with Lord Shade as well as his council. Tell me, why is it that he would keep me in the dark about such matters? Why not tell me and send me to join the fighting? He sent me out afterwards, and when I patrolled the Skullgardens just yesterday with a group of Bluecoats, there were a few miscreants about but hardly an insurrection.”

  Yelvin lifted his glass to his lips. The monk sniffed his drink and said, “A fair question. Perhaps he did not trust you initially. Perhaps he did not want you to see the extent of the brutality that occurred here. Perhaps he knew that you came into the city with a dwarf and a half-elf looking to stir up trouble in the name of some bandit king from Killer’s Rest and didn’t want to risk you converting to their side at an inopportune moment.”

  Yaura nodded. Plausible. Even if just barely. But why would Yelvin lie to me? He lives here among the worst of the red ghost in an impoverished section of town. What angle could he possibly be working, other than trying to help his people?

  “I can see that you have much to consider,” Yelvin said. “That is fine. But before you make up your mind one way or another about any of this, there is someone else I would like you to meet.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “Like you he is familiar with the Rosewalk, and unlike you he is still quite welcome there. He is a friend to me, despite maintaining Lord Shade’s confidence, and a friend to your allies as well. Jack! You may enter!”

  The wooden door behind them swung open and in strut an adolescent of no more than eighteen years with broad shoulders and a hint of a mustache above his upper lip.

  “It’s about time!” he snapped impatiently. “I’ve been waiting around all morning.”

  “Have you now?” Yaura asked with a smile. “Then perhaps you should have eaten slower. You have what appears to be your breakfast running down your shirt.”

  The boy’s face flushed red as he looked down at the brown gravy-stain that covered the front of his blue vest.

  “Gods be damned,” he muttered, wiping at it uselessly with his hand.

  “Jack,” Yelvin said, not unkindly. “Worry about your appearance later. This is Yaura of the Shigata. Please introduce yourself.”

  The boy suddenly snapped his heels together so quickly that Yaura half-expected him to give her a military salute. “An honor, my lady. My name is Jack Druguld!”

  “Druguld?” asked a shocked Yaura. Shooting a dirty look at the old monk, she continued, “Jack Druguld? Does that name happen to mean anything to you, Yelvin?”

  “Of course,” the monk said, waving her off. “That name is worth a great deal here in Valencia.”

  “I make no secret of my heritage,” Jack said, still standing straight as an arrow. “My father is steward to the Lord of Valencia, and I make no apologies. We do not always see eye to eye, but he is a good man.”

  Yaura bit her tongue so hard she could practically taste the blood in her mouth. Good man to some, psychopath to others. She still remembered all too clearly how Kent tried to manipulate her into moving the Shigata base to Valencia—a deal she supposed was long since taken off the table at this point. Everything about the man smacked of heartlessness. The only people worse than those who bring about chaos are those who bring about organized chaos, and Kent was clearly in that latter group.

  “Tell me, Yelvin, why is the son of Kent Druguld standing before me?”

  “Because he has demonstrated himself to be loyal to a good cause,” Yelvin said at once. “A rare trait that I find incredibly admirable these days.”

  “A good cause to some is a lost cause to others,” Yaura replied. “And to others still, it’s an insignificance. I increasingly find myself uncertain why I should care about whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish here.”

  “Jack,” Yelvin said calmly. “Please, tell us what you think that the Shigata should know. And Yaura, I remind you that you were granted shelter last night in return for this meeting. You are not obligated to do anything, but you must hear us out.”

  “Go on then,” Yaura said. “Before my hair grows any longer. I suppose I have no choice if I don’t want to stain my precious honor.”

  “Yaura,” Jack said, spastically turning to her. “Lord Shade is aware of Faela and Tzuri-kai’s connection to King Kark. The Lord of Valencia is most unsettled by the bandit king’s efforts to take his city. I fear your friends are in terrible danger as long
as they remain in captivity.”

  Yaura shook her head, wondering what this bizarre boy reminded her of. She decided that it was the same energy she saw in young recruits that joined the Shigata. Well, that was beaten or bled out of them all soon enough. It shouldn’t be a surprise that no one had done the same to this noble brat.

  “Now tell me, Jack,” Yaura said. “You see, the big walls that surround this city. The fine class of weapons and armor that Shade’s Bluecoats wear. Why would he concern himself over a dusty bandit making threats from the distant east?”

  “Because Valencia has been emptied of the vast majority of its soldiers.”

  Jack said those words as casually as if he had just explained that it was going to rain that day. Blinking, Yaura asked, “Why in the world would that have happened?”

  Jack inhaled a quick breath of air and bounced on his tip-toes. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Yaura massaged her temples. “Yelvin, I marched with Bluecoats just yesterday. I assure you, Valencia is not without protection.”

  “It’s true!” Jack screeched. “Listen to me. I am positive. Shade has kept a small portion of his forces in the city to keep up appearances. They have been instructed to crush even the smallest of infractions with brutal violence so that nothing can happen. But Valencia’s strength is no longer in the city. I have heard my father discuss it many times.”

  “Why in high heaven would Shade move his men out of the city when Valencia is teeming with a mixture of demons and rebellious citizens?” Yaura asked. Both of them were silent. “I see. So Shade is extremely worried about a bandit king but despite that chooses to empty his city of his soldiers. Valencia is undefended, and nobody knows why. May I ask what is the poi—”

  “Valencia is not undefended!” Jack snapped at once. “Sylvester Shade’s witch still defends the city, and she is not a force to be taken lightly.”

  “His witch?” Yaura asked. Suddenly she remembered. Ashaela, that raspy old wisp of a woman.