by M. E. Thorne
Vexile looked grim, “In that case, maybe it’s time we visit the wilds of Marshul.”
I looked at the crawlclaw, and once again confirmed my decision to walk rather than to ride upon its lumpy carapace.
“Are you sure?” Vexile was concerned, “It’s not a long trip, but I imagine you don’t want to be exhausted when you meet Dougherty.
She adjusted the hat, woven from reeds, that protected her from the worst of the sun’s rays.
I glanced at the pack beast. It looked like an oversized crab that had been flattened by some great hand, leaving its broad shell stretched across its back. It hobbled sideways, scuttling on its six-clawed legs while the driver sat upon its back in a wicker basket, guiding its movements.
“I’m sure,” I confirmed, smiling at her, “but I appreciate your concern.”
I had traded in my usual attire for a loose set of trousers and a robe made from fabric that had been spun from the same type of reeds that had been used to make Vexile’s hat.
The shoots, which we had originally found by the pond, seemed to sprout up near any natural source of water. They grew at a startling pace, reaching several meters in height in a single week. Out of ingenuity, I had dubbed the shoots as rust reeds.
Our citizens, being the industrious and crafty survivors that they were, had quickly found multiple uses for the plant. Roofs had been rebuilt using the reeds, and walls were reinforced with scaffolds made from the material, lashed together with red-brown rope. Someone had discovered the fibers inside the reeds could also be harvested to make fabric, and several others were experimenting with ways of making paper and other resources with the stuff.
The weavers found it slow and difficult to work without the proper tools, but they had still offered me the first batch of clothing produced from their efforts, which I had been appropriately grateful for.
My suit and coat, while appropriate garb for ceremonial events, is starting to get a bit stained and worn. Having a comfortable alternative for day-to-day use is good. I still kept the black mantle around for ceremonial purposes, but most of the time I just wore my circlet as the symbol of my throne.
We were on a journey to the causeway, heading down to Marshul. Vexile had told me that the land had once been a great garden, where devotees to the twin gods of life and death had cultivated fantastical forms of plant and animal life. In the two centuries since that country’s fall, their creations had grown wild, but if we were searching for more crops to cultivate it was our best bet.
The alternative is to raid a Luminark settlement and try to steal from them, which would be suicidal at this point with our given power.
I had been disturbed to learn that the empire maintained several outposts on the northern continent. Though the land had become barren with the death of the last Dark Lord, they operated several resource gathering operations, like mines, queries, and excavations, ferrying their bounty back south.
We’ll need to deal with them, in time. I felt a deep anger at the empire, for what they had done to my ancestors and to our people.
Though I had only begun to get to know the citizens under our rule, I had heard tales of torment and tragedy, again and again, from them. The empire was a xenophobic nightmare, built upon slavery and cruelty.
Vexile tapped me on the shoulder, “Beloved?”
I shook myself out of the fugue. “It’s nothing. We’re a day’s travel to the causeway, but then only an hour or so to the edge of Marshul?”
She nodded. “I’m sure we can stay with Doughtery tonight. He maintains an old watchtower with a group of volunteers who decided to stay on with him rather than moving to Duskhaven.”
I chewed on my inner lip, making sure the crawlclaw driver was out of hearing range before speaking. “Do you think he will recognize us as his rulers, and that his tower is a part of Duskhaven reborn?”
She gestured towards herself. “I’ve been told my ascension is a very convincing argument.” She wound her hand through my arm, “Besides, I really think he’s a lot like you, a good person. I’m sure you’ll get along famously.”
The dusty terrain went by without much in the way of interruption, though we were heartened to see several more shallow creeks trickling through the wastes. Their banks weren’t lush with life, but we spotted duskbells and rust reeds growing along their sides. We also saw small shadows, mice and the like, dashing between their stems.
Vexile made a show of pointing out all the snakes, sunning themselves along the sun-bleached stones. They were all beautiful, resplendent in multihued scales, but none measured up to the allure of my wife.
Slowly, the day drew on, and in the distance, I saw a grey, stone tower rise. It was pitched at the edge of the rocky plateau, the land steeping away from its eroded base.
Once, I imagined it had been a majestic edifice, its base dozens of meters across. But like Gloomglow, it had been ravaged by the Luminark. The roof and top stories of the tower had long ago been destroyed, leaving the remaining levels with an abandoned, desolate air.
I assumed that Dougherty left it that way on purpose, helping conceal his presence from any Luminark observers.
Below the causeway, which was more rubble than roadway, stretched a murky coastal marshland, thick with brine and overgrowth. A road, defined by trampled dirt and wagon ruts, ran through it, from east to west.
The ocean, to the south, was divided by a broad land bridge, which stretched several kilometers across. The land along this region was heavily overgrown, with strangely twisted trees and disturbingly vivid plant life.
Turning back to our immediate surroundings, I saw there was a half-crumbled wall running around the tower’s perimeter, its stones overgrown with black, thorny vines. I approached the tower warily, certain there were spotters in the upper windows and that they had seen us coming from a long way off.
I just hoped Dougherty and his soldiers were as friendly as Vexile had described.
Entering the courtyard, my queen called, “Dougherty, are you here? It’s Vexile, the priestess you helped a few years back.”
Something shifted in the shadows, behind the tower’s main door. “Vexile?” A soft chuckle, “I didn’t recognize you.”
The snake-woman laughed, shifting her coils around in a circle, across the dusty courtyard. “I didn’t think that you would.” She went still, speaking much more somberly. “Great things are afoot, the Dark Lord has returned to bless our lands.”
From out of the tower emerged a large man. The crossbow clenched in his oversized mitts looked like a child’s toy.
He stared at me. “I guess things are changing around here.” He called back over his shoulder. “Joey, get out here and help get this crawlclaw into the stable and out of sight.”
He peered back at us before turning and waving. “Follow me, Dark Lord.”
The tower was much more presentable on the inside than the outside. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to patch the holes and mend the broken stones, but in such a way that the work would not be evident to anyone standing outside.
Several people, dressed like Dougherty in secondhand armor, scrambled about in response to our visit.
“Garnet, keep an eye on the coastal roads,” Dougherty ordered a young woman, “call out if you spot any patrols. They’re set to have a shipment of black iron go through this afternoon if they’re on schedule.”
The girl saluted, before dashing up a staircase.
“You have an impressive operation here,” I complimented him.
He just grunted in reply, before directing us downward, into the bowels of the tower’s underground.
“There’s not much privacy around here,” he explained, as he lit a lantern, “the only person who gossips more than a housewife is a soldier. The best place to talk is down in the cellar.”
Vexile nodded, indicating we could trust the man. We followed him downward, ending up in a low ceiling chamber, which smelled like damp stone.
He closed the door behind us, the
n led us to a small table and set of chairs, setting his light on top.
“Vexile,” he said carefully, “what happened to you?”
She smiled, revealing the pair of fangs that emerged from the roof of her mouth. “I have been blessed by Revina and I have become her ascendant champion.” She coiled back, to give the man a good view of her scales, which shone radiantly in the flickering lantern light. “I am now the First Queen of a reborn Duskhaven.”
As he studied her, I studied him.
Dougherty was an older man, the vigor of youth giving way and his body going soft with age. But he still held a commanding vitality, the kind I associated with retired soldiers and military veterans. His pale complexion was sunburnt and red in places, revealing that he had never fully adapted to the harsh, blistering sunshine of his ancestral homeland.
Absently, he stroked the thin remains of his hair, “Forgive me for saying so, but this is unbelievable.”
Vexile smiled, then laid her hand over mine, “It’s all thanks to Robert, our new Dark Lord. He has been blessed by Revina as her new conduit, and the old bloodline has been restored.”
He coolly regarded me, before asking. “And what brings you here, Dark Lord? Have you decided to demand my fealty, to claim the obedience of me and my soldiers?”
I could have used my voice, the one Vexile and I had been blessed with, by the goddess, when I answered him. By channeling our magic into our words, Vexile and I could lend them weight and volume. We couldn’t actually control people and force them to obey us, but we could lend unnatural persuasiveness to our words, a level of impact beyond mortal reckoning.
I regarded such power with a mix of terror and temptation.
Instead, I sat quietly, before removing the circlet from my brow, rolling its cool metal between my fingers. The blood gem shone sullenly in the lantern light.
“I think, I’d be a real son-of-a-bitch and a poor Dark Lord to march into somebody’s home, unannounced, and demand that he follow me,” I finally said.
Unexpectedly, the old man erupted into laughter.
“Vexile,” he coughed, wiping his eyes, “I think you managed to find yourself a fine husband and a passable Dark Lord.”
Over the course of our short stay with Dougherty, I would come to discover that he was the kind of person that I admired the most. Someone who did the right thing because he saw it as his duty and that he expected nothing in return.
My parents had the same kind of outlook, and I worked all my life to emulate it.
After our private conversation, the old soldier had led us up to the highest remaining level of the tower, which acted as a watch post and command center.
As we ascended, we saw that the lower levels of the building were alive with activity; I estimated there were at least thirty soldiers, most of whom were in their late teens or early twenties. There was an armory, where the weapons and armor were maintained, a kitchen that likely never fully shut down, and workshops where necessities were produced. One room was dedicated to just recycling and producing paper; Dougherty explained the Luminark threw out paper by the reams, and his soldiers routinely gathered up the scrap.
“You can never have enough paper,” he said simply; a fact which I heartily agreed with.
A majority of the top floor was dominated by a huge piece of slate, which was covered in chalk notes, pinned-up papers, and a large map of the region. I was glad to study it, memorizing as many details as possible.
I noticed there were several other refugee camps, scattered out in the wastes, but they were much further to the north, located in Duskhaven’s central mountains and beyond. The notes on the map indicated their total population barely exceeded five thousand souls.
As I studied, Vexile explained to Dougherty our mission and our need for new crops to help sustain our citizens.
He nodded towards the map, “We often forage in Marshul, at the outskirts of the jungle marshlands, to help augment our larder. I’ll be happy to provide directions to you if you promise to share part of the bounty you bring back.”
Vexile smiled, “Of course, that certainly seems like a fair trade.”
He directed us to a long, low table, which held another cluster of maps. “It’s strange. I remember everyone who comes through here, but I certainly have to say, you have changed the most since your arrival.” He raised an eyebrow, “And I don’t mean just the obvious. Being a queen suits you.”
“I can only hope to do my best for our people,” she answered.
‘Captain!” One of the volunteers, stationed by a window, called out, “the black iron shipment is coming through!”
The old soldier checked a sundial attached to the outside of the building, then approached the chalkboard and added a note. “Right on time.”
Joining the volunteer, I squinted and looked towards the roadway below.
As I watched, a group of wagons, pulled by crawlclaws, approached from the west. The carts they were pulling were heavily laden with boxes and escorted by armed soldiers on foot. The soldiers were easy to pick out against the brown, rusty terrain, with their sparkling silver armor and white tabards, which flapped like wings in the breeze.
“Luminark bastards,” Vexile hissed, “stealing from our lands and from our Goddess.”
I watched them, a small flame of rage building in my chest. “Where are they coming from, and where are they going?”
Dougherty, looking as cross as we were, directed us back towards the map. “There is a black iron mine to the west, at the base of this plateau. They use prisoners to extract the metal, forge them into finished goods, then haul the stuff to the eastern coast. Their empire maintains their northernmost naval base there, about two days' travel from here.”
Studying the map, I could see the mine was the only Luminark holdfast on the west coast, but there were several bases and mines near the eastern shoreline, dotting up and down the continent. Several more were located further inland, towards the ruins of Duskhaven’s great cities.
Based on the notes, the mines were extracting black iron, salt, coal, and other valuable resources from our land.
“They ship everything out through that port?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s suicidal to try and ship anything overland, through the ruins of Marshul. Small parties and individuals can make it, but any large group will attract the attention of the local predators, and they inflict a harsh price on anything they deem as prey.”
I glanced at Vexile; I knew she had come through Marshul when fleeing the empire, but she had never spoken about her flight.
Seeing my attention, she lowered her head. “Marshul is truly a nightmare. Further inland, the jungle marshes give way to a savage tangle, full of twisted life. It took me over two months to traverse that green hell, and by the time I emerged, I was half-dead from starvation and disease. It’s only by Dougherty’s aid that I survived.”
“Then you have my thanks again,” I told the old soldier. I paused, thinking, “We haven’t had any new refugees appear in Gloomglow in the past several months.”
In truth, no new people had appeared since my arrival in Turmont. With Ahkil’s help, we ran a census and confirmed there were eighty-nine people in Gloomglow, with Vexile and myself included.
“We haven’t seen anyone coming through Marshul, or escaping from the local Luminark holdings,” he confirmed with a frown. “It’s not unheard of though, sometimes months can pass before a new group of refugees makes it this way.”
“Do you get much news about the empire?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “No. There’s a loose network of people like me, who help escapees make their way north, but I only hear from other members when refugees bring me their letters. Any information I receive is typically weeks or months out of date.”
That fact worried me, but there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was care for the people under our protection, and see towards their safety and well-being.
Chapter 10
We spent the night at the watchtower, working late into the evening with Dougherty, planning out our route, and going over the various hazards we were likely to encounter.
We loaded up the crawlclaw the next morning. Garnet, one of the volunteer soldiers, offered to come with us. Apparently, she often went into the marshlands, searching for food, firewood, and supplies. She swore she could get us in and out of the wildlands without issue, especially with the map her captain had provided.
Before we left, Dougherty handed me another sheet of rough, recycled paper. “A list of the Luminark convoys and patrols,” he said gruffly. “There are none scheduled to pass through this area today, but if you get delayed and return tomorrow or even later, you’ll need to be careful not to cross their path.”
I nodded my thanks, then joined our party as we headed down the causeway.
All four of us rode on the crawlclaw’s back as the beast nimbly descended the ruined roadway. Vexile coiled tightly around me since there wasn’t enough space in the basket for her to spread out her bulk.
“Are you okay?” I whispered as she stared nervously at the marshland below.
Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air. “My time in Marshul is one of the most awful, most harrowing parts of my life. I used to have nightmares about my time trapped there. I’d wake up screaming, thinking some beast was hunting me, or I was burning up with some unnatural fever.”
She coiled around me tighter.
“But I’m a different person now, I’ve ascended and become a queen,” she reached down and took my hand, “and of course, I met you. I’m not the same scared girl I was when I emerged from the jungle swamps.”
I smiled and leaned into her embrace.
My heart skipped a beat as the crawlclaw scuttled across the road, my eyes peering towards the horizon, fearing I’d see a dust cloud being kicked up by a Luminark patrol. But Dougherty’s information was good, and we made it across without issue, the giant crab carrying us into the thick, reedy underbrush.