The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “Do your people live on the water?” he asked, remembering what she’d said at the settlement.

  “Yes, we’re up the river a ways,” Flora said, explaining. “We have a bit to travel, but we’ll be there soon, once we hit the bottom of the mountain.”

  “Let’s go,” Bray said, anxiously appraising William.

  Going downslope, the horses moved faster, picking paths between the trees. They seemed as ready for rest as the riders. Some rest would be good for all of them.

  They were halfway down the slope when William called, “I see a road!”

  Sure enough, in the distance, past the remainder of the snow-covered slope and through some trees, the sun had melted a large clearing that was unmistakably a wide path. The ground was covered in a type of ancient stone that Bray had rarely seen in this new land. On the other side of the road was a steep drop-off that led to the bank of the large, sprawling river.

  “That is the road leading to my people.” Flora smiled from the back of William’s horse.

  “Let me guess. The Road of the Gods?” Bray asked, with a wry smile.

  “No, just a road,” Flora said.

  They made their way down the steep bank until they reached the road. The horses shook their heads and twitched. They slowed their pace to give them a reprieve as they looked down the bank at the flowing water.

  “That river is easily as wide as one of the towers in the Ancient City,” William exclaimed.

  “Maybe not that wide, but close,” said Bray.

  “Where does it end?” Kirby asked.

  Flora looked confused. “That’s a curious question. As far as we know, it runs forever. Though I suppose it might end.”

  “Most rivers end up in the ocean,” Kirby told them. “I bet it dumps into the same sea as the one near my settlement.”

  Flora seemed surprised to learn that. They followed the river by way of the road that overlooked it, mostly going straight, veering every so often where the river curved. Flora kept a lookout out behind them.

  “Should we be worried about demons here?” Bray asked.

  “We get some Savages on the road,” Flora said, looking over her shoulder. “Usually I stick to the road’s edge and out of sight when I’m on foot. But we should be safer with the horses.”

  Bray nodded. “We can outrun them, unless we’re unlucky and there are a lot. Do the men from Halifax have horses?”

  “Not that I’ve ever seen.” Flora shook her head. “Our settlement is just around the next curve.” She pointed in the distance, where the road and the river looped around the base of the next mountain.

  Bray looked carefully down the steep banks to the river, but he saw no huts, or timber homes like Kirby’s people had built. They’d gone a little farther when William cried out excitedly.

  Bray followed his gaze.

  He’d seen magnificent sights, but nothing like this.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered.

  Around the bend and past some trees, visible down the steep embankment off the road, the raging river took a steep slope and dropped off into an enormous, cascading waterfall. A large wall of Ancient stone ran above it.

  “A dam,” Kirby said with wonder, pointing as they stared.

  “A what?” Bray asked.

  “A man-made structure, built by the people you call the Ancients,” she answered. “They built them to control water.”

  “Look! Past the waterfall!” William cried out, pointing.

  Past the dam and the waterfall, where the river ran lower, an enormous bridge ran across the width of the water, perpendicular to the road on which they were traveling, and connecting to another road on the river’s opposite bank. Pillars of thick, ancient stone supported the massive bridge, which disappeared into chunks of natural stone that ran into the water. Underneath the bridge, extending from pillar to pillar, were two huge, curved arches.

  In the middle of the bridge, running perpendicular to it, a single road ran south from the bridge, curving downward and connecting to a large patch of land. It was twice as big as Kirby’s settlement, sitting isolated in the water. Bray saw several buildings hidden among the trees. They appeared to be Ancient buildings, and though not as tall as the towers in the Ancient City, they were no less impressive, due to their location.

  “Your people live on an island!” Kirby surmised.

  “Yes,” Flora said. “And a smaller island past it, one you can’t see from here.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an island, but I’ve heard about them in stories,” William said with wonder.

  “They exist,” Flora said proudly.

  “Is that people on the bridge?” William pointed from his horse.

  Several clusters of people stood stationary on either end of the bridge, where a huge row of stones looked like they had been used to block it off. A few more walked down the road that sloped down from the bridge to the island, little more than specks from this distance.

  “Yes,” Flora said. “Those are my people.”

  “Your people didn’t build this bridge,” Kirby said. “Or did they?”

  Flora shook her head. “It was put here by the gods. A place we can defend from the Savages, a place where we can tend our livestock, and raise our children. A place where we can be safe.”

  “What do you call this place?”

  Pointing to the enormous half circles underneath the bridge, Flora said, “We call this place The Arches.”

  Chapter 19: Bray

  Bray’s amazement grew as they trotted down the road next to the river, getting closer to the dam, the bridge, and the place Flora called The Arches. He studied the road sloping away from the bridge, curving downward and onto the long, stretching island—the first of two islands, according to Flora.

  “This place is remarkably intact,” Bray remarked, still shocked that Flora’s people weren’t living in huts. “The bridge looks more stable than most of the buildings in Brighton, or even our Ancient City.”

  “We’ve done our best to repair things, where we can,” Flora said proudly.

  “But certainly there must be cracks.”

  “There are,” Flora conceded. “We’ve blocked off a few areas that aren’t safe for walking. Young children aren’t allowed on the bridge without adults. For the most part, we’ve been lucky and avoided accidents.”

  “Your people live in buildings on the island, then,” Kirby said.

  “Yes,” Flora answered. “Many of the houses you can’t see from here. The island stretches for a long ways. Our gods provided most of the houses. We rebuilt those made of stone that had fallen into disrepair, and we constructed other houses out of wood. The bridge helps protect us from the Savages. We keep guards on either side of it, and we blocked off the ends of the road with large stones.”

  “Smart,” Bray said, with a nod.

  They rode parallel to the river, getting closer to the cascading waterfall. The noise was louder than most bodies of water Bray had heard, and certainly louder than the waves that lapped the ocean’s shores in the Ancient City. Bray recalled being a boy and wading too far into The River of Brighton, when he was too young to understand the water’s power. Before his father could grab him, he’d been knocked off his feet and dragged forty feet as he scrambled to keep his head above water, swallowing several mouthfuls of foul-tasting liquid and bashed into several rocks before his father had pulled him out. His body was so scraped and bloodied that he’d stayed away from the river for a year.

  The water was to be feared and respected.

  Bray turned his attention to the bridge a few hundred yards away. About twenty guards were stationed on either side of the river, protected behind a barrier of rocks that capped either end of the bridge. Bray wondered how Flora’s people would react to their arrival. The decision to come here had been easy in the woods, when William’s sickness was the only consideration, but now Bray was feeling cautious.

  He still couldn’t believe a place like this existed. He�
�d expected perhaps a handful of men and women living together, like the settlers outside Brighton, never this.

  “How will your people know who we are, or that we haven’t kidnapped you?” he asked Flora.

  Flora answered, “I’ve already signaled them. They know I’m safe.”

  Bray frowned as he tried to figure out when she had done that. He certainly hadn’t seen anything.

  Flora slid off the back of William’s saddle, landing on the cracked road. “My people are cautious, like everyone else, as you can imagine. They’ll want to speak with me alone. I’ll go the rest of the way on foot. I’ll speak with my people, and explain your good intentions. Give me a few minutes.” Seeing the apprehensive looks on their faces, Flora promised, “No one will harm you.”

  Bray watched her trek down the road, her bag bouncing on her back as she narrowed the gap to the guards and got farther away. The men in the distance looked like they were scrutinizing Bray, Kirby, and William, but no one was rushing out at them with spears, swords, or guns.

  Hopefully a good sign.

  After a few moments, several of the guards from the far side of the bridge crossed over to meet those on the closest side. Bray studied them with renewed worry.

  “What are they doing?” Kirby asked.

  “Maybe they’re calling reinforcements,” Bray said quietly.

  Kirby was pensive. “Do you trust her?”

  “She seems well-intentioned,” Bray said, “but I never trust anyone fully. I want to believe they would’ve attacked us by now, if they were going to. I’m sure they have scouts in places we can’t see.”

  Kirby nodded. “Be ready to ride, if we see something we don’t like.”

  William adjusted nervously on his horse, his eyes locked on the distant men. Flora reached the distant guards and waved her hands, speaking to the growing circle of people that had come out from behind the rocks at the edge of the bridge and were looking between her and Bray, Kirby, and William in the distance. Bray couldn’t make out the people’s features, but no one was running toward them or waving them away.

  “What kind of people do you think they are?” William asked, in a quiet voice.

  Bray muttered, “Mostly women, I hope.”

  Kirby shook her head in disgust.

  “Maybe they’re cannibals, and they’re picking out which one of us to eat,” Bray said.

  “You have the most meat out of the three of us,” Kirby said. “We’ll be safe, at least, until they’re done with you.”

  A cold breeze kicked up from the water, reminding Bray of some of the first days he’d spent in the wild, when every mountain, every stream was a new spectacle. He had that same feeling now, looking at the magnificent bridge and its strange people, but his wonder was shadowed with caution.

  William let go of the horse’s reins and gave in to a building cough. Bray looked over at him, concerned. He was the reason they were here. They needed to get him better.

  They watched Flora speak with the men for what felt like an unusually long time. Several moved around her, temporarily swallowing her from view. For a moment, Bray wondered if they were scolding her for bringing strangers to the settlement.

  Eventually, the men dispersed and Flora raised a hand, shouting something that he couldn’t quite make out. A few of the men lined up next to her in a position that showed they were expecting Bray, William, and Kirby to approach.

  “I think that means ‘come in,’” Bray said, with a shrug.

  Chapter 20: Bray

  They moved cautiously toward the bridge. As they got within a hundred feet, the guards fanned out on either side of Flora. Bray was surprised to see a few women among the men. The guards wore similar garb, none of which would have seemed out of place in Brighton, but they lacked the uniform of a cavalry. Swords like Flora’s hung at their sides. Their faces wore the scars of previous battle. One woman’s shirtsleeve was pinned up, as if she was missing part of her arm. She watched Bray with a hard expression that spoke of numerous fights.

  “There are women soldiers, too,” he hissed to Kirby.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Kirby said.

  As they got within talking distance, Bray kept the same reserved composure that always earned him respect around fighting people. Kirby looked as though she was battling her instincts by keeping her rifle at her side, and William copied Bray’s rigid posture.

  “Please excuse the stares from my people, but we don’t get many visitors,” Flora explained as they approached.

  A big man with a thick beard stepped forward from the group. “We get plenty of Savages, though,” he said. “I’m Bartholomew, the bridge commander. Flora told me what you did for her. We appreciate you keeping her safe.”

  “I’m Bray, and this is Kirby and William,” Bray introduced.

  Some of the people exchanged glances, seemingly startled by Bray’s voice.

  “You speak the same language, with hardly an accent,” Bartholomew said, with obvious surprise.

  “Don’t most of us?” Bray asked.

  “Many tribes in the forests speak tongues only they can understand,” Bartholomew said. “Especially around this area.”

  “They do,” Kirby said knowingly.

  “Where are you from?” Bartholomew asked, addressing Kirby. “You sound different.”

  “Kirby is the one from across the water,” Flora explained. “Her people were the ones that floated on water houses, like the ones we saw at the southern cove. The ones that were destroyed.”

  The guards made a few audible noises of surprise as they appraised Kirby.

  “Those floating objects are called ships,” Flora said, happy to share what she’d learned. “Her people built them and sailed them to our shores. They built a settlement here called New Hope.”

  Unable to hold back his question any longer, a short, round man stepped forward, addressing Kirby. “Where did you get those god weapons?”

  Kirby looked like she was getting used to such responses. “My people made these. They aren’t from the gods.”

  The man’s face registered confusion.

  Uncertain how receptive these people might be to the news, Bray added carefully, “Many of us have different customs. Kirby simply means that her people created the weapon you see in her hands.”

  “You mean the gods instructed you,” the short man said with a nod.

  Bray said, “Yes. That’s right.”

  Kirby gave him a look.

  A few men exchanged glances as they continued staring. The short man said, “And you have horses. It’s been several years since we’ve had those.”

  “I heard you lost yours to sickness,” Bray said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It was unfortunate.” Bartholomew nodded. Changing the subject, he said, “Flora told us what the men from Halifax did. She told us they stole things from your dead. We are sorry to hear of your troubles.”

  “They were headed to get back the rest of their weapons when William took ill,” Flora explained.

  “You are William?” Bartholomew asked, his eyes settling on the boy.

  “Yes,” William said, mimicking Bray’s straight posture.

  “Flora told me you are sick with a winter illness.”

  “I think it will pass soon. I don’t feel so bad.” William made a brave face, but his pale complexion said otherwise.

  “The winter is a harsh time for travel,” Bartholomew affirmed. “How old are you, William?”

  “Twelve,” William said.

  “I have a son your age,” Bartholomew said with a thin smile. “He tells me the same thing, when he is sick. You are as brave as him. Maybe you two can meet each other, when you’re feeling better.”

  William smiled weakly.

  “We heard some other reports from our hunters that some of the men from Halifax were carrying strange devices,” Bartholomew said, seeming to put two things together. “We wondered why the gods would have entrusted them with such things. Now it makes
sense. They took them from you.”

  Bray grumbled, “Stinking thieves is what those people from Halifax are. They are a vile people, worse than the Savages.”

  Another ripple went through the group as men and women agreed.

  Flora stepped forward, addressing Bray, Kirby, and William. “I spoke to Bartholomew and the others. They’ve agreed to let you come inside and rest so William can get better, in exchange for the help you’ve given me.”

  “Thank you,” Kirby said.

  The two groups stood watching each other for a moment. Most looked at Kirby’s guns. No one moved.

  Guessing the next topic of conversation, Bray said, “I assume your people are cautious, as we are. I understand you haven’t seen weapons like ours before, and that you have only just met us. All I can give you is our word that we won’t use them.”

  Bartholomew seemed as if he’d expected that line of reasoning. “I assumed you might say that. After the assistance you gave Flora, we won’t ask for them. But please know that might change.”

  Bray didn’t like the way the sentence was worded, but he knew it was the best they could hope for. William was sick. They needed a place out of the frigid cold to recuperate. He traded a glance with Kirby, who seemed agreeable.

  “I expect we can learn a lot from each other,” the short man next to Bartholomew said. “My name is Jonathan, the second bridge commander. It is nice to meet you. Bartholomew and I will take you inside.”

  Bray, Kirby, and William dismounted their horses and followed Bartholomew and Jonathan. Several other guards parted to allow them through the gap beside the large stones, and then they were walking onto the sprawling bridge with their horses.

  Chapter 21: Bray

  Bray wasn’t surprised to see several other guards following quietly as they walked behind Bartholomew, Jonathan, and Flora. He had expected they wouldn’t be given immediate trust. Flora seemed reserved. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like she might be a commoner, if she were in Brighton.