The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim

by Jay Swanson

  The food was every bit as good as Ardin imagined it to be. After nine days of stale bread and gritty water, some meat and wine were beyond welcome treats. He couldn't help but grin as he ate. But the uncomfortable feeling in his gut remained. He found his appetite curbed by it.

  Rain was looking at him, he realized. Watching him eat.

  “What?” he finally asked as he took a long sip of the thick wine. He laughed uncomfortably. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

  “Ardin... I don't know how to say this.”

  “You're not kicking me out already are you?” He smiled, but his gut was churning. She was about to say something he was certain he didn't want to hear.

  “There's obviously something special about you, Ardin. Lots of things.”

  Yep, he didn't want to hear this.

  “But there's more to it than that, I think.” She looked down at her food as she spoke. “Ardin, when I was just a girl, I was betrothed to marry Branston, did you know that? But when my father died, and I saw Branston for what he had become, I pleaded with my brother to end the betrothal. And perhaps that has to do with his treason in the end.”

  Oh God, Ardin thought. Really don't like where this is going.

  “I wanted to be free, Ardin. To choose who I would love. Who I would marry.”

  Ardin realized he was shaking as the cup in his hand clattered on the table. He released it and put his hands to work wiping his face with a cloth. He hoped it would buy him some time.

  “I don't know much in the end, Ardin. And I don't know what the future holds. Let alone if there will be a future. There has always been a lot of pressure on me to marry. In fact, there are old laws that would require I do so within the year. I didn't think I could bear it.”

  The room was spinning as Ardin's head swam through an endless sea of things he should not say. How on the round, rocky earth was he supposed to respond to this?

  She put a hand gently over his as she leaned closer. “I don't know what to expect from you. I don't know if I can expect anything. But I wanted you to know... I just want you to know that I... I respect you.” She looked back up at him as she said it.

  Those deep crystal blue eyes were searching his for their answer. He wondered if they would find one. “I respect you, Ardin. I fear you. But most of all... I...”

  The doors swung open and she sat back up abruptly. She was obviously shaken as the moment was broken. “What is it?”

  A tall thick man with a full beard strode into the room. He wore a thick black belt over a simple gray surcoat. A long, light gray cloak flowed off of his shoulders from a chain made to look like small stones. “Your Highness.” He touched two fingers to his forehead as his gaze shifted between the two of them. “My name is Frost, commander of the Stone Pass. I'm sorry to have missed your arrival, m'lady, and even more to disrupt your meal, but we've received a raven. I thought you should be told.”

  “A raven?” She gingerly dabbed her lips with a napkin as she smoothed her own proverbial feathers. “No one uses ravens to send messages.”

  “Ilthuln still uses ravens. They're hardier birds than pigeons for the high altitudes, but I think it's more because that old fool is so stuck in his ways.”

  “What of it,” she said, impatience punctuating each syllable. “The news I mean. Please, we've had a long journey and could use some rest before we continue on.”

  “Of course m'lady. In fact, I don't believe it to be of much concern. If it is I'm sure your brother has received word as well and will deal wi–”

  “What. News.”

  A thick one, this commander, Ardin thought. But bless him for it.

  “Ilthuln sends word that a Shade has arrived at the Mouth.”

  Ardin sat up straight at that.

  “A Shade?” Rain was confused. “Why would they send word of that? Was there nothing else?”

  “It's an immediate response, your Highness. When one of the forbidden arrives unannounced, ravens are sent to alert the Vale. In the past we would have closed off the pass to prevent any escape, but now the gates render the practice pointless.”

  “A Shade,” Ardin spoke up. “As in a Shadow Warrior?”

  “Yes, that's right.”

  “And Ilthuln is the doorstep to the Gates, right?” His heart was racing again.

  “That's correct... I'm sorry, who is this, your Highness?”

  “I have to get there.” Ardin stood. “Now.”

  “Ardin,” Rain put a hand on his elbow. “Wait...”

  “This is why I was sent here, Rain.

  “You think that's what Tristram was talking about? A Shade?”

  “I'm certain of it.”

  “Boy.” The commander named Frost smiled as if humoring a slow child. “There is no way a lone Shade can pass the Mouth. And even if he manages to get to the bridge, the Guardians will roll his head into the abyss before he can lift a finger.”

  “Not this one.” Ardin was already moving around the table. “Not him. He'll do it; he can manage it if no one else can. I have to go, it's why I'm here.”

  “Ardin–”

  “Rain!” He turned on her. “If I don't leave now this could all be for nothing! We didn't come this far to let him through.”

  “Ok,” she said as she stood slowly. “Let me change, we'll ride out imme–”

  “No,” he said leaving no room to argue. “You have to warn your brother. You have to tell him everything. The army to the east, the invasion of the Contin... Veria. You have to tell him that the Relequim is returning. Otherwise, how is he to know what's happened?”

  “I'll send word with a rider,” she said as tears crept into her eyes. “I can help you, Ardin.”

  “I'm sorry, Rain.” He walked back over to her and took her hands. She needed this, he could tell. Of what little he knew about women, he hoped he was right in this. “This is one place you can't follow me. Not even Cid could join me in this. It's too dangerous, and your brother needs to hear it from you, from someone who has seen everything. He'll know what to do.”

  She tried to lean in and hug him, but he turned to look at the commander.

  “Do you have fresh horses?”

  “Yes, one should get you there just fine.”

  “How far is it?” Ardin let her hands go and walked towards Frost.

  “Two leagues from the end of Albentine. I'll send a guard with you to ensure they let you through the gate at the village. They can mount you on a fresh palfrey as well. But there are no guarantees you'll be admitted when you reach Ilthuln.”

  Ardin Vitalis and Commander Frost walked out of the room, making their plans as they went. Rain was left standing at the table in the broad hall of her dead father. Forgotten. Alone. Ever alone...

  THIRTY

  CID THE CLEAVER, CAPTAIN OF THE OLD GUARD, FELT ILL AT EASE TO SAY THE LEAST. He had let his sworn charge leave his care. Though he had come close enough to dying already, Cid wasn't sure he deserved the duty. He was now in the company of twenty men who had been trying to kill each other only a night before. And among them he felt certain there remained a traitor. But he couldn't voice those fears. For all the authority he may have been given, he was left totally alone.

  The wounded among them made their trip south painfully slow. He kept scouts out circling them at all hours, but there was no further sign of the Woads. The monsters were brutal. Far stronger than he remembered them being. He hoped they hadn't descended on the fleeing camp.

  After two days of travel south, they made it out of the barren wastes. That morning he sent four scouts ahead. They needed to know where the former slaves and their protectors had gone. They needed direction. It only took another day for them to report back. The camp had turned back, they were headed east. The scout reporting hadn't been able to get close enough to make contact for fear of the things he had seen pursuing them.

  They made as much haste as they could, setting a path that would get them ahead of the travelers if at all possible. As fo
r what had been chasing them, the scouts couldn't say. But one was convinced they were armored and on two legs. Whatever they were, Cid wasn't looking forward to the certainty of encountering them.

  On the fifth day they could see a huge cloud of dust being kicked up over the horizon. It was good news in that it meant the people were still alive. But the fact that he could see it from this far made his throat twist. So could anyone else that was looking for them.

  Cid ordered the wounded under the care of five healthy men. He took the remaining nine and rode as quickly as he could to head off the retreating masses. He tried to leave the destriers among them behind, the huge warhorses already lagging in the long journey, but the coursers were showing signs of exhaustion as well.

  It took them until well into the day before they made their first sighting of the fugitives. They were making their way through a particularly flat stretch of plain. The grasses grew tall here, and trees dotted the landscape sparsely. They were nearly fifty miles from the coast.

  He looked to the west to see if he could get eyes on what they were running from, but so far there was nothing. The fact that he couldn't see whatever it was bothered him more than a little. His mare was soaked and beginning to froth. He hoped she could make it the last two miles without trouble.

  He kicked his heels and they made their way down into the plains. They were quickly intercepted by outriders who had spotted them coming.

  “We thought you'd be long gone by now, my lord.” The man stood in the saddle as if hoping to see more riders come over the hills in the distance. “Are you so few?”

  “We left half of our strength behind. Our wounded should catch up come nightfall if you'd be so kind as to fetch 'em. I need to speak with whoever's in charge.”

  “That would be the Greatbow, sir. If you'll follow me I'll take you there now.” The man gave orders for the patrol to collect the wounded and then sidled up next to Cid. They continued on at a trot.

  “Why've you turned east?”

  “Our scouts stumbled upon an ambush waiting for us on the path back to the West.” The man looked young to Cid, possibly twenty-five at most. “Thankfully they tipped their hand, our men got out unharmed. We decided then that we were done for if we pressed on. They knew our mind too well. So we make for the coast.”

  “Interestin' plan,” Cid picked his words carefully. “What's the reasonin' behind it?”

  “I couldn't say, sir. I'm sorry.” The soldier gave him a sidelong glance before looking on ahead. “It seems we're wandering farther from safety and deeper into the trap to me. But what do I know?”

  “What do any of us know,” Cid ceded with a nod.

  If Donovan was coming, this was looking like a providential turn of events. If he wasn't... Cid didn't want to think about what would happen if he wasn't.

  “What is it that hunts ye then? Have you seen 'em yerself?”

  “Yes, sir. They're big, whatever they are. Not Dunmar, though it's been reported that Dunmar drive them. They're strange creatures, thick like they're armored. Black, horned helms and covered in small knobs and spikes. They seem to carry axes or maces. And they hop.”

  “They hop?”

  “Yes, sir, begging your pardon. Or jump, or leap forward in place of running. But it looks like hopping to me, sir.”

  Oh God... Cid's stomach lurched the opposite direction of his horse. God no. “How many of them are there?” He forced the question.

  “No saying sir, but they don't seem to keep up well. They engage our outriders when they get the chance, but they have only harried the rear once or twice.”

  It's a trap, Cid's mind was flying. It's a bloody trap and they're running to it. “Yer scouts, the van, what do they report?”

  “That would be us, sir. And we report nothing unusual. The road appears clear all the way to the coast. I think the Greatbow means to make for the Bastard's Ring. It's a circle of hills that were fortified by the Truans once. I would be willing to put my mark on the idea that he plans to hold out there. If there's anything left. The place was reduced to ruins a long time ago.”

  “Not a lot of other options, are there?” Cid was thinking out loud as much as anything.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, no.”

  It only took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the masses. There were at least five thousand people walking through the grassy plains. Men, women, and children of all ages. Cid reined in and watched as a young woman hobbled past, her leg obviously injured. In her arms she carried a small child who he could only assume was hers. Or was it?

  In the midst of all this madness, he wondered how many adoptions had been born of necessity. How many orphans had been made as well. The young woman was crying, though silently. He watched as more and more people filed past. Dirty, disheveled. Many of them wore as little as short pants and sandals. Some didn't even have sandals. But for each face he saw weeping silently, there were two set in stony resolution. That was good. Morale might be low, but they remained unbroken.

  “They're movin' awful slow,” Cid remarked to his escort.

  “We can't push them too hard, sir, though some have a mind to anyways. We've already lost hundreds to exhaustion and dehydration.” There was an edge to his voice. Was it frustration or something else? “God be good, the enemy doesn't even have to attack us to kill us.”

  “Let's keep goin' if we can.” Cid moved forward, but pressing through the crowd became more difficult as it grew more dense.

  Makeshift carts and litters were being pulled and carried by a number of the people. Towards the center, Cid could make out the official baggage train. It didn't look much better, he thought as he drew closer. Everyone and everything around him had been pushed to the breaking point. If they weren't careful they would soon pass it.

  “There, sir. The Greatbow will be with them.”

  His escort pointed to a group of mounted men in the center of the baggage train. Their spears stuck out of their reinforced saddles proudly, wind whipping at the slender banners that were tied to each spear. Each rider seemed to be flying different colors and devices. A blue slash on a white field, a black tree on green, a red fox running on gray. There were dozens. He wished he remembered which houses and histories each represented. Some he knew stood for the family of the bearer, while others represented station, rank, or honors bestowed in battle.

  Their approach was well noted as the man Cid took to be the Greatbow rode to meet them. It was easy enough to pick him out, as he had the largest bow Cid had ever seen strung across his back.

  “You're home early, Thorn.” He greeted Cid's guide.

  “I thought I would bring you a gift, sir.” He turned to Cid. “May I present Lord Cambridy, the Greatbow, heir to the Lodent Peak and Master of Bow and Spear.” He turned back to the Greatbow. “And may I present to you the Cleaver, Cid, Captain of the Old Guard, Savior of the King, and Protector of the Realm.”

  “Sir Thorn, my lord.” The Greatbow made a brief introduction of his own. “Lad has a silver tongue but we call him Thimble for the amount of sense it carries. Certainly knows how to make one feel inadequate in the presence of greatness.” He extended a gloved hand to Cid.

  The old man took it and shook it firmly. “If you find tarnish on a tongue, what good is it being silver?”

  They both grinned. “Well met. While I'm pleased to see you, I'm sorry it has to be in the midst of this motley bunch. Truan slaves don't march so well after a few days.” He laughed, the giant bow on his back bouncing in time with his belly. “I must ask after my queen. Or sister to the King... to be honest I never got the titles straight when the King died. He had been King a long time.”

  “She's turned west, to warn her brother. And to get help, I hope.”

  “Her bodyguard didn't go with them? What of Shill, and the boy that was with you? Is he escorting her?”

  “Truth be told, she's escorting him.” Cid went on to explain what he could. There was little that he left out in the end.
/>
  “The Brethren...” The Greatbow was left in awe. “Here? Things truly must be reaching their timely pitch.”

  “It's worse'n that.” Cid said quietly. “The Relequim's on the verge of gettin' free of his tomb. It's what brought the Brethren so quick.”

  “That, my friend, is not possible. The Magi sealed him in the Tomb with the help of your own Brethren. Your Greater Being imprisoned him in the mountain. Legend has it you were there; you know the truth of it. He may have learned how to influence a few servants abroad, but he remains interred.”

  Cid bowed his head for a moment, exhaling before he started. “It ain't quite like that. Or at least it weren't.” Where did he start? “I don't fully understand it myself, but the Tomb was only temporary. It was ne'er meant to be permanent. In fact, I don't think they had it in 'em to make a permanent prison for the Demon should they try. For as powerful as our Greater Bein' is, he went and split himself in four to make the Brethren and leave a presence behind. And the Demon can match him pound for pound. Ounce for ounce. Even with the Magi helpin', the Greater Bein' weren't there in the fullest sense.”

  “What are you saying?” The Greatbow's voice had lost the strength of its earlier conviction.

  “They said it would hold him for a thousand years. That's what they said, but it ain't true. In the end, he was stronger. He's gettin' out, and now it seems he found someone to quicken the process. The time is near, my friend. He's gettin' free.”

  THE SHADOW KING STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THE LARGEST GORGE ON THE PLANET. The Cathedral of the Relequim stood a mile away at the end of what looked like the most narrow bridge he had ever seen. In reality, it was broad enough for four lanes of traffic, but its sheer length gave it a fragile appearance. The mountain it ran to shot so high into the air that it dwarfed the mighty peaks of the Dragon's Teeth with graceful ease.