The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “It’s a charm,” Kirby answered.

  “A charm.” The woman looked as if she’d never heard the word. “Is it lucky for you?”

  “I…yes, it is.”

  “I’ll trade three jars of vegetables for it,” the woman said, waving at the table in front of her. “Take your pick. You can even keep the jars.”

  “Keep them?” Kirby asked, thinking the comment strange.

  “Normally I ask the person to wash the jars and bring them back. They are from my ancestors. The islanders oblige. But it will be a different deal for you, if you give me the charm.”

  Kirby looked at the small, silver circle in her hands. The vegetables would provide a few nice meals, depending on how they rationed. But those would be gone quickly, and she’d never replace the charm. Gerald’s hopeful look was stuck in her memory. Perhaps desperation would get the better of her, but not today.

  “I’m sorry,” she told the disappointed woman. “I’m going to keep it.”

  Kirby was turning to leave when she noticed a thick, warm blanket draped over the woman’s shoulders. It was made of thick sheep wool, in much better shape than any of the blankets back at the house. She thought of William shivering, wrapped in a few blankets that seemed to get thinner the longer they were in the wild. The thick blanket would be a huge benefit, with nothing but a campfire to keep them warm when they returned to the wild.

  But Gerald…

  Gerald was gone. William was alive.

  Gerald would understand.

  “Four jars of vegetables and the blanket, and I’ll give you the charm,” she told the woman.

  The woman’s eyes lit up with renewed hope, but she kept her composure. “The blanket belongs to my sister. She’ll be upset if I trade it.”

  “Four and the blanket, or the trade is off,” Kirby said, tucking the charm back into her bag and making a show of walking away.

  Before Kirby could leave, the woman reached out a wrinkled hand and said, “Deal.”

  Chapter 58: Bray

  Bray watched William as he dozed. Every so often, William rolled over, losing part of his blankets. He moaned. Bray wondered if he was dealing with the pain of the spore, his illness, or both. Rather than hovering and disturbing him, Bray kept his post at the window. He saw no sign of Kirby. She’d been gone awhile. Had she been gone too long? He tried to determine how long it would take to get from the house, to the road, to the market, and back. Hopefully his warnings to Kirby weren’t a premonition.

  The islanders hadn’t shown any violent intentions yet. But what was to stop them from getting ideas when they saw Kirby alone? The market would have many more people, and a group with ill repute might be more likely to try something together than alone.

  He was harboring those thoughts when William stirred.

  William seemed to have given up on sleep.

  “Kirby isn’t back yet?” William asked, looking around the room.

  “Not yet. She should be back soon,” Bray assured him.

  William went quiet for a moment, clearly worried, but trying his best not to show it.

  “Is that what’s keeping you up?” Bray asked.

  “Partly,” William admitted. “I can’t seem to clear the thoughts from my head. I keep closing my eyes, but one thing leads to the next.”

  “Are you thinking about Brighton?” Bray asked.

  William lowered his eyes. “I keep seeing all those demons and men fighting outside of Brighton. I keep hearing the gunshots.”

  Bray suspected William was thinking of other things, as well. He looked down at his wound. The pain in his shoulder was a constant reminder of the battle.

  “How’s your shoulder?” William asked.

  “I’ve survived worse.”

  “Worse than a Tech Magic bullet?” William asked.

  Bray laughed as he thought about that. “I think I’ve gotten more scars this year than any other year.”

  “Some of those scars were for me,” William said, looking guilty.

  “We did what we needed to do to stay alive.” Bray watched William, who was sitting up and watching him closely. “Do you need another blanket? Maybe some more tea?”

  William didn’t answer. It seemed like he had something else on his mind. “Why did you spend so much time searching for me?”

  The question caught Bray off guard. After a pause, he answered, “I saw you run off in the Ancient City. I wanted to help.”

  “Did you look for me because you felt guilty about Mom?”

  Bray was stunned into a silence he wasn’t used to. “Partially that,” he admitted.

  “Mostly that, you mean.”

  “There are other reasons,” Bray said, clearing his throat and looking away. The pain of Ella’s death was always there, resurfacing whenever he looked at William.

  “Like what?”

  Bray thought on it for a long while. “You can track. You can hunt. One day I’ll be too old to do those. I’ll need someone to help me.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, even though the expression felt forced.

  “Are you trying to teach me because you don’t have a son of your own?” William asked. Before Bray could answer, he said, “That’s it.”

  “Maybe I just need someone to hear about all the demon kills I’ve made.”

  “I know killing my mom was a terrible accident,” William said. “I knew you never meant to hurt her. I realized that before you found me.”

  “I’m—”

  “You don’t have to apologize again.” William looked as if he was struggling through another dilemma. “What I’m trying to say is that I feel as if I’m holding you back with my illness. I feel like I’m a burden. I don’t want to feel like that.”

  Bray shook his head without a delay. “I’m going to make sure you get better. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Taking off his blankets, William rolled up his pants and revealed two round, swollen lumps under his knees. “Even if I recover from my sickness, I won’t recover from the spore. These lumps weren’t here when you met me, but they’re here now. And I have others, too, that you haven’t seen. I hide them. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life making up for one mistake.”

  Bray watched William, trying to formulate words that had been pent up since he’d found William in Brighton. “You’re going to get better, and I’ll be here when you do. And the day after that.” Bray smiled at William, and this time his expression didn’t feel forced. “If that’s what keeping you awake, you don’t have to worry. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later, when you feel better.”

  William started to say something, then stopped and smiled. He lay down and pulled his blankets back over his body, tossing a few times until he found a comfortable position. A few minutes later, he was asleep.

  Chapter 59: Kirby

  Kirby headed for the edge of the structure. She’d had enough of the market and the constant attention. She longed for the relative safety of the woods, where the only spectators would be trees and the birds lingering through winter. A few men at the edge of one of the blankets took a step toward her, looking as if they might want to say something.

  Maybe they want to rob me.

  She lowered her hand toward her pistol, ready to draw it. Bray’s warnings seemed especially predictive now.

  A man with a thick beard looked like he was reaching for his scabbarded sword. Or was she imagining it? Kirby doubted a few men would take her on with what they considered god weapons, but she wasn’t going to wait to find out. She looked for trees behind which she could gain cover and make a stand, if that was what it came to. A familiar voice called her name, startling her.

  “Kirby!”

  She halted long enough to identify who was speaking. Flora was emerging from the next row of traders, hurrying to catch up with her. In her hands was a full basket of goods. “How’s William?”

  Kirby looked behind her. The man with the thick beard, and some of the others, looked away. None were coming closer
, or making moves for their weapons. Kirby relaxed slightly.

  Feeling relief at seeing one of the only familiar faces she knew on the island, she took a moment to remember Flora’s question. She asked about William. “He’s still weak. These illnesses can hang on.”

  “I wish I’d known you were coming to market day,” Flora said as she motioned toward the blankets filled with wares. “I would’ve showed you around.”

  “I found my way,” Kirby said. Glancing over her shoulder, ensuring she was still safe, Kirby added, “I got some vegetables and a blanket for William.”

  “I’m glad you found what you needed,” Flora said. “It seems you are getting familiar with the island.”

  “We met with Deacon this morning,” Kirby said.

  “On the second island?”

  “Yes.”

  A look of wonder crossed Flora’s face. “Not many get to see it. It is a sacred place for our people. You are very fortunate.”

  Kirby wasn’t sure if she agreed, but she nodded. “Deacon told us many of the stories of your people. They were inspiring.”

  “The gods have blessed us with The Arches.”

  Looking over her shoulder, still feeling a nervousness she couldn’t shake, even though less people were paying attention, Kirby said, “Well, I should probably be getting back to William. The sky is already losing light.”

  “I’ll stop by to check on him after I take these things to my parents,” Flora said.

  “Why don’t you stop by tomorrow? He’ll most likely still be resting.”

  “So you’ll be staying on the island awhile, then?”

  Kirby thought on it. “Probably for a few more days. Bray is leaving with a hunting party tomorrow. We’ll see how William is after that.”

  “That’s great,” Flora said with a smile. “That means we’ll have some more time to talk.”

  “Yes,” Kirby said. “I guess we will.”

  Chapter 60: Flora

  Flora hurried down the main road and toward the wooden bridge. After leaving Kirby at the market, she’d spoken with the woman with whom Kirby had traded. Then she’d headed for the second island with her basket of things.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving an amber glow over the buildings in the distance. A few daytime birds took last, swooping circles through the sky, looking as if they were trying to guide her to Deacon.

  Flora could already see him, standing in the field past the bridge, waiting. She swallowed back her fear.

  She had information.

  Information might keep her alive.

  Reaching the bridge, she walked past several watching guards and onto the beginning of the field on the second island. Deacon stepped forward to meet her. Flora steeled her nerves for another tense interaction.

  “You have news?” Deacon asked, skipping the formalities.

  “I followed Kirby to the market,” Flora said. “Bray is going on the hunt in the morning. It sounds like they will be staying longer.”

  Deacon nodded, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “I will let Bartholomew know, so he can instruct our hunters accordingly. How is William?”

  “He’s still sick. He’s been resting a lot.”

  “That will buy us time,” Deacon said. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” Flora said. She dug in her pockets, pulling out the small, silver object she’d taken from the woman at the market. “Kirby gave this to one of our traders at the market in exchange for food. When I said your name, the woman said you could have it as a gift.”

  “Let me see it,” Deacon said, holding out his palm.

  Flora placed the small, silver circle in his hand, hoping the gesture would put her in his favor.

  “What does it do?” Deacon asked.

  “Kirby told the woman it was a charm for luck, though I am not certain.”

  “I will have Jonas take a look at it,” Deacon said, pocketing the object. He seemed unimpressed by the gift, but happy for Flora’s deference. “Is there anything else?”

  “Nothing yet,” she said. “I will keep you up to date.”

  “Please do.”

  A flutter of nervousness almost prevented her from asking the next question. “Have you made a decision on Bray?” she finally managed.

  “Perhaps after the hunt, I will decide.”

  One of Deacon’s Trusted strode from behind one of the buildings, distracting him, and Deacon turned to speak privately. Flora strained to overhear, but the words were indecipherable. When they were finished speaking, the soldier stepped back slightly, allowing Flora to catch the tail end of the conversation.

  “Prepare a ceremony at the next thick fog,” Deacon muttered.

  “Will do, sir,” the soldier said, before heading back to the building.

  Flora swallowed.

  Chapter 61: Kirby

  When Kirby got back to the house, Bray was standing at the window, keeping watch. William was still asleep. Bray looked tired, but relieved to see her.

  “How was the market?” he asked in a low voice, so as not to disturb William.

  “I got some vegetables,” she said, pulling out each of the glass jars, setting them on the table.

  “Peppers, corn, and tomatoes.” Bray nodded. “A rarity in the winter.”

  Kirby asked, “Has William been asleep the whole time?”

  “He only just fell asleep recently. He was having trouble getting comfortable.”

  “Between the spore and the sickness, I’m surprised he can sleep at all.” Kirby looked worriedly at William. “I got him something.” She quietly pulled out the blanket and set it on the table. “Hopefully it will serve him better than the tattered rags we have.”

  “That will be warm in the wild.” Bray was impressed. “How were the people at the market? Did you learn anything?”

  “I still don’t trust anyone, but no one tried anything.” Kirby briefed him on the unwanted attention she’d received at the marketplace. She concluded with her meeting with Flora.

  Bray didn’t seem surprised. “That sounds like the attention we’ve been receiving all along. Hopefully we can be out of here in a few days. Then we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “As long as these people don’t get any ideas and follow us,” Kirby said.

  “So Flora is going to stop by tomorrow and check on William?”

  “Yes.”

  Bray nodded. “I have my early hunting trip in the morning. Are you going to be all right with me leaving?”

  Kirby didn’t seem worried. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Will you be able to make that food last until I get back? Bartholomew says the hunting trips usually run overnight.”

  “We have enough,” Kirby said. “We should eat dinner. If William wakes, I’ll give him something.”

  “I think he’s out for the night,” Bray said, taking the jar of peppers and uncapping it.

  Kirby tiptoed over, covering William with the blanket she’d brought. When she was finished, she returned and accepted a pepper from Bray, chewing. The vinegar taste was bitter, but the pepper was a welcome change from squirrel meat. They ate in silence for a minute as they observed William.

  “Watch out for him while I’m gone,” Bray said, giving her a long, concerned look.

  “I will,” Kirby promised.

  Chapter 62: Bray

  The sky was still dark when Bray set off from the house, his bag on his back and a torch in his hand. He had a bow from one of the Halifax men over his shoulder. He was already familiar with the paths that led from the hunter’s house to the main road. The island was starting to feel as familiar as some of the places he’d traveled in the wild or outside the Brighton townships.

  When he reached the end of the dirt path, he transitioned to the road, passing the familiar tradesman shops, now dark and lifeless. He went by the soldier’s houses, most of which were vacant, or presumably housed sleeping men or women.

  He’d decided not to take his horse. He d
idn’t want to outpace the other men, none of whom would have steeds. And he didn’t want them leering at his horse, as they’d been leering at Kirby in the marketplace.

  Hopefully he’d provide a few meals, get William better, and leave.

  When the road finally began to slope up to the bridge, the sun had finally crept over the eastern horizon, illuminating the outline of the massive, arched bridge. The structure was no less impressive than the first time he’d laid eyes on it. Clusters of men leaned against the bridge’s waist-high wall, high above the water, watching him behind burning torches. A few other guards were stationed at the top of the road that sloped up to the bridge, facing his direction. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew they were scrutinizing him. The raging waterfall was out of view, but he could hear it, cascading over the object Kirby had called a dam.

  Several soldiers held their lights higher as he reached the top of the sloping road.

  Bray looked for Bartholomew among the backlit faces, but didn’t see him. Directing his attention toward a bearded man who looked like he might have some authority, Bray said, “Bartholomew told me I could meet a hunting party here.”

  The man didn’t look surprised. He waved a hand. “He told me you might be coming. One of our parties is in the middle of the bridge, about to leave. You can’t miss ’em.”

  Bray started walking away when the man called after him.

  “No horse?”

  “I’m giving the horses a rest,” Bray called over his shoulder.

  “Too bad,” the soldier said. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen one.”

  Bray didn’t bother responding as he walked onto the massive bridge, passing several more soldiers that looked like they wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t. He kept walking to avoid conversation.

  A group of men with dirty jackets stood in the middle of the bridge, laughing under the light of their torches. Whatever joke they’d told was buried under the background noise of the waterfall. They stopped laughing when they saw Bray. He paused ten feet from the group, studying the two closest men. One had long, dark hair; the other had a round face, with more gums than teeth. Bray had the regretful thought that he should have gone out alone. He didn’t need these pig scratchers showing him anything.