The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  Bray peered upwards and inside the rusted holes in the enormous object’s side as they walked alongside it. Most of the windows were higher off the ground than he could see in clearly. He couldn’t imagine the Ancients flying like birds over places in which he could only walk. He envisioned strange people peering out from the dark recesses, looking down on the forests as they traveled over them. Through several crevices on the side of the object, he saw bird’s nests, or scraps of leaves where small rodents had made their homes. He looked up at the object’s rotted roof, filled with holes, and imagined climbing up and lowering himself inside.

  “Have you ever been inside it?” he asked Levi and Hildebrand.

  “Some of our people tried years ago, but one man was cut badly. The floor inside is so thin and riddled with holes that you can hardly walk in it,” Levi said. “There was nothing worthwhile left behind.”

  “A shame,” Bray said.

  “It is our hope that one day we will find one that hasn’t degraded so much, so that Jonas can study it further.”

  Bray nodded.

  Having caught most of the game they’d scared up in the area, Levi said, “We should probably camp soon.”

  The sun was already dipping toward the horizon as they hiked out of the gulley and headed for a thicker patch of woods. The game inside Bray’s bag seemed twice as heavy, or maybe it was the weariness of carrying it so far, with the cold sapping his strength. They traveled to a sheer face of rock on the side of a mountain, where they could make a fire that would escape some of the attention of wandering Savages or enemies.

  Bray dropped his bag, happy to get it off his back, and they settled.

  Chapter 67: Bray

  Bray sat in a circle with the other men around the blazing fire. Light flickered across their faces as they tipped their flasks, celebrating a successful hunt. All around the camp was gutted game, tied and ready for transport back to The Arches. One man had scored a half dozen rabbits, which he’d field dressed and tucked into a bag. A few hunters were stationed by the edges of the fire, watching the trees for danger.

  “Did you see that first rabbit I got in the gulley?” one man asked another. “The little bugger poked his nose out from underneath the god machine, as if he was waiting for us.” The man laughed. “He probably would’ve invited us into his burrow, if I hadn’t shot him.”

  “The furs will make a good trade,” Hildebrand said, with a happy smile on his face.

  “Don’t forget to save your batch for Deacon,” Levi warned.

  Bray leaned over toward Levi, setting his flask down. “What do you mean?”

  “We give a portion of our catch to the old people, over on the second island,” Levi explained, leaning closer. “Have you heard about them yet?”

  “The Important Ones,” Bray said with a nod.

  A few of the men exchanged glances. He wondered if they had their own terms for them, but no one said any different.

  “I’ve seen them on the second island, but I haven’t met them directly,” Bray said.

  “They sew the furs into hats and gloves,” Levi said. “Some of our catch goes to feed them, or to feed Deacon’s Trusted.”

  “Do the soldiers hunt?”

  “Only when they have to,” Levi said. “Most don’t leave the bridge unless there is a battle, or an expedition. They are tasked specifically to fight, just as we are tasked specifically to find game.”

  Hildebrand clarified, “We all train from a young age. Everyone on The Arches fights, when the need arises.”

  Bray recalled how practiced the hunters were in battle. He’d seen proof of their skill today. “Who determines the tasks for each of your people?”

  “When we reach a certain age, Deacon or one of his Trusted assigns us a duty. Most of those duties vary based on our abilities. Some of those tasks stay within our families for years.”

  “It is the same way in Brighton,” Bray said. “Tradesmen teach their sons. Soldiers breed more soldiers. And so it goes.”

  “Even as hunters, we’ve had our share of battles,” Hildebrand said. “Most have been with Halifax men, or a few nasty groups that wander too close to The Arches and don’t heed our warnings.”

  “Who are these other groups?” Bray asked, curious. He’d heard Bartholomew talking about it, but he wanted to know more.

  Levi sipped his drink. “People who live in the forests, mostly. Most of them keep to themselves, but occasionally we get a group desperate enough to try to get inside The Arches. A few have drowned in the river, trying to get across. Thankfully the water is high enough and takes most of them.”

  Hildebrand nodded in agreement.

  “Where do they come from?” Bray asked.

  “Some are nomadic tribes, and you might never see them again. Other tribes live farther up north. They speak languages we don’t understand. Most of them attack our people on sight.” Levi shook his head in disgust. “We’ve stumbled across some strange rituals in the forest. We have stories, as I’m sure you do.”

  “You’re a Warden,” one man said from across the fire, chiming in on the conversation, sounding as if he was testing the word for the first time. “I heard you say that, but I missed the explanation. What is your role in your township?”

  Bray said, “I hunt the Savages.”

  “Savages?” one man asked, furrowing his brow. “What do you do with them?”

  “I sell their scalps for coins.”

  “You mean you kill them for the army,” the man said with a definitive nod.

  “No, I sell them for coins. I bring their scalps back to the townships and make my living that way.”

  “I don’t think I understand what you mean.” The man looked confused.

  “Each scalp is worth four coins,” Bray said. “We use coins to buy the things we need.”

  “Don’t you trade? I’ve never heard of coins associated with Savages.”

  Seeing the bewilderment on the men’s faces, Bray dug into his bag and took out one of the few bits of silver he had left to demonstrate. “These are the coins that we barter with, for food, drink, beds, or anything else we want.”

  The man looked as if he might laugh. “My apologies, but those are trinkets to our children, or fodder for the forge. It seems like you are adding an extra step. Why not just trade for what you need?”

  The others nodded in silent agreement.

  Bray hadn’t thought on that question much. Pausing for a moment to reflect on it, he said, “I’m not sure that would work, with the number of people we have. Some trade, but not everyone can offer something of equal value. I don’t think that system would work in Brighton.”

  “How many live in your town?” one man said.

  “We could fill up your bridge many times over with the number of people we have in my township,” Bray said, watching a few of the men’s eyes grow wide. “And that is one township. Not to mention the villages that exist around the townships.”

  “That is a lot of people,” Levi agreed.

  “Perhaps there is value in what you are saying.” Hildebrand shrugged. “Especially with that many people.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Bray said. Given the things he’d been through recently, he was no longer certain what to think about Brighton.

  “We have a system for providing for each other. We each perform our specific tasks. We trade for what we need at the market. No one goes hungry,” Hildebrand said. “Unless we all do, but that day hasn’t come yet.”

  The men around the fire fell silent as they swigged from their flasks.

  Changing the subject, Levi said, “That was a good shot you made today, Bray.”

  Hildebrand waved his flask in Bray’s direction. “Clearly, you know how to hunt animals as well as Savages.” He smiled.

  Bray shrugged. “I should, after so many years of it.”

  “Perhaps you’ll have another stroke of luck tomorrow, as we head back.”

  “If the gods are with me, perhaps I will.”
r />   “Hopefully the gods are with all of us.”

  Noticing Levi fiddling with something around his neck, Bray leaned over to look. “What’s that?”

  Levi pulled out a necklace made of some type of thin rope, with several beads in the center. “A fortune necklace,” he said, spinning the beads with his fingers. “I carry it every hunt.”

  Bray studied the small, brown beads. “What are they made of?”

  “The Important Ones on the second island make them from the dirt in the riverbank below The Arches,” Levi said. “Most of us hunters wear them. That way we carry a piece of The Arches with us, even when we are away. It is a reminder of our duties. Most are passed from relatives. My father gave this to me.”

  Bray said, “That is a nice tradition.”

  “Do you have similar traditions?” Levi asked.

  “Nothing like that,” Bray said. “Most of my father’s lessons I keep up here.” He tapped his head.

  “You said the boy you are traveling with isn’t your son,” Levi said. “Do you have a son?”

  “Not yet,” Bray said. “William is very smart at tracking, and he will make a great hunter one day. I’m teaching him.”

  Levi smiled. “It sounds like he is a son in all but name.”

  “I guess he is, in many ways,” Bray said, thinking it would be nice to get back to him.

  Chapter 68: William

  William sat on the edge of a building in the Ancient City, dangling his legs into the air. All around him were other towers, some magnificent, others crumbling, fallen to half the height they used to be.

  On the ground, hundreds of feet below, the city felt dead, a sprawling maze of roads that held nothing but the rubble of the buildings that towered above them. The sky was gray and cloudless, no birds perching on the towers around him, no animals scavenging between the lifeless buildings. The air was so quiet that William could hear his heart beating. A light breeze blew suddenly, cooling his skin, giving him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked farther, past the city and toward a sprawling ocean in the distance, certain for the first time that he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  He was the king of the Ancient City.

  The ruler of the Ancients.

  Movement and noise shattered his peace. William looked around, startled. A stream of bodies wound through one of the distant streets, snarling and yowling as they made their way across the city. The air—crisp and odorless just moments before—suddenly reeked of the fetid odor of the demons. Panicked, William searched the stream of twisted men with his eyes until he found their source. They were emerging from the ocean in a glutinous stream, bursting from the waves and following each other through the streets, getting closer.

  They’re coming for me.

  William tried to move, but his body was rooted in place. All he could do was watch the demons get closer as the air grew hot and sticky, foul. Sweat poured down his face. His arms and legs felt as if they were on fire.

  Still, the demons came.

  Still, he couldn’t move.

  William opened his mouth, but his lips were frozen, and his heart pounded faster and faster as he tried to break free of whatever had caught hold of his tongue. Finally, he managed to scream in a voice louder than he’d ever used.

  “Go back to the ocean! Leave this place!”

  His voice reverberated throughout the city, but the demons didn’t stop, or slow. They weaved through the streets, getting closer.

  They wanted to consume him.

  William screamed as bare feet pounded up the stairs of the building on which he was perched. Sweat poured from his forehead and into his eyes, blurring his vision so that the mass of demon bodies on the streets below became one. He couldn’t turn, and he couldn’t move, not even to watch as the demons reached the roof where he was sitting, hissing as they charged up behind him, grabbed his arms, and took their first bite.

  Chapter 69: Kirby

  Kirby awoke to William moaning loudly.

  He was burning up from a fever.

  Kirby looked around the dark, wooden dwelling, searching for a rag and her flask. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. She cursed herself for dozing. She retrieved a cloth, poured cold water on it, and used it to cool William’s forehead. The tea from the healer was gone. So were the herbs. The fire was still burning, but she could tell it was barely dawn. No light bled from behind the shutters.

  With Bray gone, no one could run for a healer. No one could help her take care of him.

  Bad timing. That’s what it was.

  “William?” she asked, trying to rouse him.

  William mumbled something unintelligible. His eyes were half-closed. He was delirious. Whatever illness had gotten hold of him seemed to be tightening its grip. Cursing, she looked around, wishing she had something else to give him. The body could fight certain illnesses—Kirby knew that. But if William were to have a chance, he needed medication.

  He needed more help than she could offer.

  Listening to him moan, she couldn’t tear away the image in her mind of the people in her homeland dying, fighting off sickness in those first few years of infection.

  “It’ll be okay, William,” she said.

  She recalled the words William had spoken to her the day before, when he’d insisted on going outside. He’d wanted to spend his remaining time outside, not trapped indoors. She hoped that wasn’t one of his last lucid conversations.

  She needed to do something.

  “I’ll be back,” she told William, uncertain whether he had heard her as she started for the door.

  Chapter 70: Kirby

  Kirby opened the door and looked out into a dark, gray morning devoid of sun. A thick fog had emerged, swirling around the trees, turning the wooden houses into outlines she could barely see, obscuring her view of the paths that were normally visible.

  Dammit.

  Movement startled her. She took a step back before realizing it was the horses, snorting and wagging their heads, startled from rest and probably surprised to see someone out at such an early hour.

  No one else was around.

  If it were warmer, she could scavenge for herbs, but not now. She had no idea where to find a healer.

  She could jump on a horse and make her way to the bridge, perhaps round up some help from Bartholomew, or another guard, but none of them were likely to have something she could use.

  She needed help sooner.

  Recalling the woman Bray had talked to, she headed down the path to the house diagonal from theirs, which was barely visible through the swirling fog. When she got close, she saw thin smoke floating from the chimney, remnants of a fire burning to its last embers. Hopefully the people were home. She reached the door and knocked, preparing for what would likely be a cautious greeting, if she got one at all.

  Between the guns she carried, the fog, and the early time of morning, her presence would probably scare most people into hiding. But she wouldn’t leave her weapons behind.

  She listened, looking at the windows, expecting to hear soft footsteps. Nothing. It was possible Jaydra was gone, but unlikely. She was probably whispering for her children to keep quiet.

  Kirby was about to run for the next house when a thin voice called from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Kirby, from across the path. William, the boy with me, is very sick.”

  She looked over her shoulder, as if William might have tagged along with her, even though he was in the house, delirious, and barely conscious.

  “We haven’t met yet, but you know Bray,” Kirby added. “I don’t mean any harm.”

  After a silent pause and several whispers, someone moved for the other side of the door. A few moments later, the door opened to a crack and Jaydra stood at the threshold, looking cautiously around.

  “I’m alone,” Kirby assured her. “I need help for a sick boy.” She turned and pointed toward the door from which she’d come. “William is bur
ning up with a fever. He’s barely conscious.”

  “Give me a moment,” Jaydra said, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll be right out.”

  The door closed. For a moment, Kirby wondered if the woman would barricade the door, warn her children to be quiet, and stop answering. She was relieved when the door reopened a few moments later and Jaydra stepped out with a pouch in her hand.

  “I have a few herbs,” Jaydra said. “I’m not sure if they’ll be enough, if he’s as sick as you say. But we’ll try them.”

  They jogged quickly to the house through the fog. William was in the same spot he’d been lying before, in bed, but he’d thrown off his blankets. His eyes fluttered. His hair was plastered with sweat.

  “Hold on, William!” Kirby said. “This is Jaydra. She’s here to help.”

  William looked at both of them as if they were strangers.

  “I’ll get some tea going,” Jaydra said, finding the pot by the fire and reaching for Kirby’s flask, taking out some herbs. “The tea will help him sweat through some of the illness. And he’ll need liquid to keep his body strong.” She started heating the water while Kirby tried to keep William calm.

  “We’re getting you some tea, William,” Kirby explained, holding his arm.

  William focused on her, but she saw no recognition in his face. “The demons are behind me,” he mumbled in confusion. “They’re in the Ancient City.”

  “There are no demons here,” Kirby assured him.

  “They’re going to tear me away,” he said.

  “I promise you they’re not.”

  Kirby looked behind her at Jaydra, who had finished the tea and was bringing it over. William resisted sitting up at first, looking as if he was experiencing delusions. His eyes scanned from left to right, as if he was searching for enemies. Finally, he allowed Kirby to take his arm and prop him into a sitting position so he could sip.

  “This will help you sweat through the sickness,” Jadrya told him, bringing the cup close to his mouth. William drank slowly as more sweat bloomed on his forehead. They managed to get him to drink half the cup before he was too weak to sit up any longer. Kirby helped lay him back down.