The Ruins of Melda

by Matthew Cayle Adams

  When Quillen and Ty returned, Kellenor saw them and came down from his point of observation. The company gathered without a word.

  The hunter spoke first. “There is no trace of him. He may have gone over the cliff with the gnolls.” Ty turned away at the hunter’s words.

  Hasdel said, “The only way to make sure is to cross over. And the only crossings are far west, near Cayleon, and to the east, above Riverlok at Twin Bridges. Nothing in between.”

  Ty had heard enough. “He’s alive. I’ll find him.”

  No one replied, but Hasdel reached over and placed a firm hand on Ty’s shoulder. “Events have caused us all to reconsider our plans.” He turned to the silent dwarf. “Captain, what are your plans now that you are free?”

  The huge dwarf, twice as wide as any man, did not move. He continued to look down at the ground, but it was clear he had heard Hasdel, so the company waited for him to speak.

  “I am Kellenor Braid of Dalkeeth, Captain in the service of what men call the Frontier Guard.” He had already told them his name, but the men could see the big dwarf had thoughts that needed to be said. He continued. “I was dead, and you resurrected me. I had died with my comrades; only my death was being delayed. It is difficult for me to speak to you, for you risked your lives, and it appears one of your party has been lost.”

  Hasdel raised his hand and rose to address the dwarf. “Captain, we saw signs of your capture and decided we needed to come to your aid. It was our decision. You do not need to thank us.”

  “I do not know that I am here to thank you,” articulated the dwarf slowly and deliberately. “I am a warrior born of a warrior clan. I was raised to die with my men. I was not prepared to live as a lone survivor.” Hasdel sat on a nearby rock as the dwarf captain continued to speak. “I fought hard when you came to rescue me,” said Kellenor.

  “That you did,” injected Hasdel.

  “I loathe the gnolls and I relished being able to slay more,” Kellenor continued. “I did not think we would live.”

  “So what now, Captain?” asked Hasdel.

  “With your leave, I need to return to the site of my company’s battle. I have some obligations to perform. I am too late to give the dead the honor they deserve, but perhaps by my going back, I will spare my clan from some shame.”

  Hasdel was standing again. “You are free to go as you wish. However, we should tell you this: we took it upon ourselves to prepare your company. I learned something of your ways from a dwarf scout I once knew. We ask your forgiveness if we did wrong. Ty here, and our missing companion, Kalo, dug a common grave, facing toward Gray Wall, for your ten men only. Quillen placed the bodies of your men side by side on their backs with their arms crossed. Each held a replica of a weapon. This was all accomplished before the night had fallen on them.”

  There was silence. Then, slowly, the dwarf knelt on one knee facing no one in particular. “You saved my life, which I had thought was not worth saving. Now I learn that the night before that, you saved my honor and the honor of my company of frontier guards.” He stood. “I am your servant.”

  Hasdel extended his hand in friendship, and the dwarf took it. He turned to Quillen, then Ty. The dwarf stood at attention and bowed quickly with each grip of the hand.

  Hasdel stepped away from the small group after sealing their fellowship with the dwarf. He turned to address them all. “I have a difficult decision,” began the gava. “I will share with you Berre-Jon’s message to the king: Raxell is besieged by gnolls in number, strength, and cunning as he has never before experienced. He asks that help be sent to him.” He rested himself against a boulder and surveyed the small company. “My difficult position is that I am bound to deliver this message to Cayleon,” he said.

  Quillen spoke without hesitation. “You would not pass through the city gates. Mallivar has seen to that.”

  Hasdel then spoke directly to Kellenor. “Mallivar and his agents slew Prince Andre, the king’s only son and my good friend, and blamed it on me.”

  Quillen added, “Hasdel is a hunted man.”

  “And that is my dilemma,” said the gava.

  Ty broke his silence. “I don’t have the words to say this well, but I need to go after Kalo. I don’t know where to look, but I must look.”

  “And I would go with you, lad,” said Hasdel. “For it was my plan that Kalo go alone into the camp of the gnolls. I placed your young friend in much danger.”

  “And I am also at fault,” said Quillen. “We all knew he was terrified. I, too, will go look with you.”

  Ty couldn’t hide his anguish. “I’ve watched over him since I first met him. He worked for a mean old farmer who would bring milk to the market every day. He made poor little Kalo carry large milk crocks, but he couldn’t have been more than ten years old. One day he must have dropped a crock, because I saw a crowd watching the old man beat him with a mule’s whip. I was so angry at the old man and at the people who did nothing for the little boy. I started throwing the other milk crocks off the wagon. The old man was stunned, and the people were laughing; I grabbed Kalo by the arm, and we have been on the run together ever since. He needs me—and I let him down.”

  The three were quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts. Hasdel’s eyes hinted at a smile, and he turned so the others would not see him and misunderstand. At that moment, the vision of the young thief from Riverlok crawling up from under the pier of the Kingfisher had come to him. He recalled when he first looked at Kalo’s features in the lamplight of the room in the Compound before they took the silver stake to Prince Andre. The crystal blue eyes, the dark skin, and the thick mat of hair of a fisherman’s son were vivid in his mind.

  Hasdel turned back to the others, his smile faded. “We are a sorry lot. Four days ago, we were well on our way to the Ruins of Melda to find Lamus the Monk. Now I must turn and go north to deliver Berre-Jon’s message to the king. Ty feels he must search for his lost friend. And I am certain Quillen would agree that Ty has as much chance of finding Kalo as I do of still being alive when I am brought before my king in Cayleon.” Quillen nodded in agreement, and a faint but sad smile crossed his lips when Hasdel added, “The hunter would even guide the young Riverman where neither knows where.” Hasdel was thinking from the heart and the words were flowing. The others waited for him to speak. “As the three of us up from Riverlok know, the one who is lost is the one among us who least wanted this fight.” Hasdel was quiet for only a moment, then turned to the dwarf and extended his hand, palm up. “And let us not forget the newest member of our company, Kellenor of Dalkeeth. Forgive me, Captain, but we risked our lives to save yours, and then you told us you were better off when you faced certain death than now, when you face the prospect of waking each morning to the memory of your darkest day.” Hasdel turned to inspect each of his comrades. “Are we not a sorry lot?”

  A moment later, the dwarf spoke. “Why do you seek this Lamus?”

  “We have a message that only he can read. Our Prince Andre sent us to find him,” answered Hasdel.

  “Your prince sent you on this mission?” asked the dwarf.

  “Yes, and as I said, he was murdered ruthlessly by our foes after he sent us on our quest,” said the gava.

  “Then you have no choice,” said the dwarf captain. “There is no greater mission than one from your prince, except one from your fallen prince.” No one replied. “Messenger, I wish to ask you a question,” continued the dwarf. “Which is more important, to deliver the message, or to deliver an answer to the message?”

  “What are you saying, Captain?” asked the gava.

  “From what you and the hunter have said, the likelihood of successfully delivering Raxell’s message is distant. Giving up your life to attempt it serves only the enemies of your king.” The dwarf continued. “I will carry Raxell’s message to my king, for I have met Commander Raxell, and I have seen and felt the blows of the beasts he speaks of. I will ask that a company of Frontier Guards march to Raxell’s aid. Is that not a
better offer?”

  “Truly it is,” replied Hasdel. “And you would do this?”

  “You,” he said, looking about the small company, “have restored the life of a dead warrior.”

  Hasdel reached out to take the dwarf captain’s hand. Kellenor clasped his in return. “The gava we honored said that Raxell had never seen such cunning in gnolls before. It is true, and I know why.” He looked at Hasdel and then at Quillen. “They are led by a dark creature.”

  Chapter 24

  For two days a cold overcast covered the party of four like a wet shroud as Quillen led them south. The previous day, they had climbed steadily upward into a woodland of tall pine and reached the level summit as darkness fell. They woke before dawn, their bodies stiff from a night on the damp, hard forest floor. They continued their trek toward the Ruins of Melda in silence.

  Only two days removed from the collapse of the Shimmerstrand, Ty battled thoughts of losing Kalo. He clung to the little hope Hasdel gave him: Kalo knew that if they became separated, they should meet at the ruins. Ty wanted to believe Kalo would join them there, and Hasdel let him.

  The young Riverman trudged along between the two men. He walked bent over, his arms holding his cloak tightly about his slender frame, his boots shuffling forward. He held his head nearly still as he pulled it down inside his garment, and his gaze moved steadily from side to side as the hunter had taught him—always looking, always listening.

  Early in the day, Quillen had made the unsettling observation that the gnolls had created a trail across the Shimmerstrand from their homeland in the north to Melda in the south. Ty moved farther back in the column. In the first days after leaving Riverlok, Ty had walked proudly at the side of the hard hunter; however, this day he kept silent behind the gava, followed by the powerful dwarf. The sparse underbrush along the pathway and the thinning tree coverage exposed the small party more than ever before.

  Quillen stopped and pointed to faint markings on the floor of the wood. “Just ahead, at least a hundred gnolls,” he said as he looked off to the south through the trees.

  They had come down out of the highland forest and beheld the vast plains of the southern land for the first time through openings in the foliage. As far as they could see, the rolling land went on and on until it merged into the same grayness as the sky. Even in midday, the sky remained heavily overcast, and distant images faded into a haze at the horizon.

  The land lay more open, and the company was more exposed. Ty found some comfort when the hunter said they were behind the gnolls and would see the creatures before they themselves were discovered. Still, Quillen would not allow a fire when they set up camp for the night.

  A fog came in as night fell and filled the air with the same wetness that had covered them the two previous nights. Their meal consisted of more dried meat and cold creek water they had collected earlier.

  The evening dew settled about their camp, much like the night before. All except Ty stood their turn at guard that evening. The men and the dwarf never woke the young Riverman, and they knew it never occurred to Ty that they had not. He was a boy on the verge of becoming a man, and the loss of his friend set him back. Ty had lost his closest friend and he needed time. The men and the dwarf had each been there.

  The morning of the third day dawned with the unmistakable smell of decay lingering throughout the plain. The moist fog hung low in the morning and on into midday. The foulness in the air grew more intense as they traveled south toward their destination.

  They stepped into the source of the stench before they saw it. The very ground they walked on abruptly changed. The dew-dampened grass they had walked on earlier when they were coming down across the plains had given off a sweet smell. They now treaded upon brown grass transformed into a dark greenish black. The soil was blackened too.

  It happened suddenly. A few hundred yards before, the land had been turning to a dormant state, readying itself for the winter months ahead. The grass had dried. The leaves had turned dark, some to rich colors, and fallen to the ground. But this was different. Before them lay a strange new land, a darkened, lifeless land, veiled in a low, foggy mist. “What is this?” asked Hasdel of no one in particular as he kicked at the dirt with his boot.

  “I have never seen this, ever,” said Quillen, examining the blackened soil cupped in his hand.

  “Captain?” asked Hasdel again.

  “Never,” Kellenor said.

  “On your way north from your homeland, did you see anything of this?” asked the messenger again.

  “Never,” repeated the dwarf.

  No one asked the boy for his opinion, for he held none. Without speaking, each man became more aware of how the land had changed. If they brushed against a small scrub, it would crumble into pieces. If one pushed aside a low-hanging branch, it would snap off as though it had been drained of all moisture years ago. They crossed a dried creek bed lined with rotting small fish carcasses. The company pushed on; the smell became so foul that the men, including Ty, pulled their neck scarves up over their mouths and noses. The dwarf paid no attention and moved steadily forward.

  On they marched without speaking, though the shuffle of their feet produced a steady drumming sound. In the haze before them, they could see the base of a small hill. It rose abruptly from the flatlands like a large mound, several hundred paces long and five stories high. The company trudged on, moving to the left to avoid the climb. Quillen separated from the party as he had at other times and headed up the mound. Ty, who had followed the hunter’s every move in the first days of their journey, did not follow. Instead, he plodded on with his head down behind the gava, following his course to avoid the hill.

  Only minutes had passed when the high shriek of a hawk rang out. First Ty, then Hasdel stopped cold. The dwarf kept walking.

  “It’s Quillen,” said Ty.

  “Captain!” called the gava, and his words halted the dwarf. Hasdel pointed up the mound. Ty answered with a call of his own, a piercing hawk cry mirroring Quillen’s call. Hasdel smiled at the boy’s skill. The hunter called back. Up the mound they rushed together without a command, the three racing toward the sound of the hawk. The ground on the hill was the same greenish black, but the haze cleared and the very top of the mound could be seen. Among the dead trees, they could make out Quillen sitting on a boulder, his hands cupped over his eyes, looking to the south.

  Hasdel reached him first, then Ty, followed by the huge dwarf. They were breathless and unable to speak when they arrived at the rock Quillen sat upon. They did not need to speak, for by following the direction the hunter stared, they saw it too.

  In the distance to the south, a small trail of dark dust stood out in the haze. It was moving slowly to the northeast. It would pass them far to the left in less than an hour.

  “What do you make of it, hunter?” asked Hasdel.

  Quillen did not speak at first. “It’s a man being chased by a band of gnolls,” he said finally.

  “Six,” said Ty.

  Quillen dropped his hands and looked over at the boy, who was leaning against the rock. The boy’s hands were cupped over his eyes, imitating the hunter’s own stance. “I was thinking seven or eight, but I think he’s right. Six.”

  “The man is big,” added Ty.

  “Fool,” said the hunter. “He’s following a riverbed. It’s easy running for the beasts.”

  “It is just a matter of time and they will catch him,” said Hasdel.

  “True,” said Quillen with no emotion in his voice.

  “Then let’s help him,” said Hasdel. He turned to the boy. “Ty?” The young Riverman shrugged his shoulders as he continued his watch.

  “Captain?” said Hasdel. The dwarf nodded.

  “Hunter?”

  “It seems to be what we do around here,” said Quillen in his lowest voice.

  Chapter 25

  Once again, the company chose to set aside their mission in order to rush to the aid of another stranger. First they had re
scued the dwarf captain at the Shimmerstrand, and now they were committed to saving a running man from a band of gnolls in close pursuit.

  Ty thought of Quillen’s words as the four companions jumped off the mound and set upon their latest venture; this is what we do—we rescue the hopeless. A sense of great pride welled up in him as he, a street thief from Riverlok, raced alongside a legendary hunter, a messenger of the king, and a fearless dwarf warrior on a righteous mission. The beating of the leather scabbard bearing his sword against his back created a rhythm that made him believe he could sustain this pace for miles. This was atonement, he thought, for the harm he had caused with his wanton thievery.

  The downward slope leveled off into a great span of dead earth. Rolling vapors blanketed the ground like a gray shroud, and dead trees reached into the air like black skeletal hands. The land was decayed and suffering an unnatural blight.

  The four intended liberators pressed on at a steady gait into the haze before them. For Ty, the run was hard but exhilarating as they raced through an ever-moving chamber of foul mist punctuated by the sounds of dead leaves and branches snapping beneath their feet. It was like running through an endless polluted tunnel. There was no sound other than those they created. They could not see more than a few paces in any direction, for the cloudy haze of unnatural mist fogged their vision. Nevertheless, they moved progressively forward.

  They ran as one. Even the dwarf warrior, trudging forward on his powerful stocky legs, was in stride. There was a unity in the company as they surmounted small grades and navigated around and between the dead trees. The distance they would need to run was unknown to them, but the direction was never in doubt. Simply put, they would run until they reached the escaping man.

  Ty, who had run through the streets of Riverlok many times and was probably the fittest of the company, felt his lungs burning in his chest. In his mind, they had run at least ten city blocks. Quillen led them on the shortest course to intercept the path of the running man and his pursuers. Ty and the others watched the hunter for instruction.