The Hands of Ruin: Book One

by Peters, Dylan Lee

  The twins remembered when they first arrived at their uncle’s home. They had walked up the driveway to that place, thinking that exact thing. To now know it was in fact the garage and they hadn’t needed to climb those stairs in the rain was infuriating. Zigmund gave Zerah a frustrated look again. Couldn’t you have let him die?

  Gathering their energy, Zigmund and Zerah dragged their uncle again, who was providing less help than he had at the beginning. It seemed he was losing energy as well. They pulled him now over dirt, pine needles, small rocks, and tree roots. In some ways their progression was easier, moving the man forward instead of upward, but the uneven ground proved to be an obstacle in its own right. Zigmund tripped on a root, and Rainart fell to the ground, Zerah unable to support his weight by herself. The teen apologized gruffly, and they made to pick the man up again, but the teens’ energy was waning all the time, and their feet were beginning to drag almost as much as their uncle’s.

  Echo saw them struggling, saw the orange fog had not disappeared, and made a tough decision. She pressed a button along the bottom of her arm cannon, and it loosened its grip on her forearm. She pulled her arm out of the cannon’s sleeve and called for the twins to stop.

  “Here, Zerah. Take this.” Echo held out the arm cannon for the girl. “I can help with Rainart. Just listen to my commands, and you’ll be fine.”

  Zerah looked at the woman as if she were mad. “I don’t know how. I can’t…I wouldn’t…” The girl was rambling, exhausted physically and mentally. The morning had been the most eventful and impossible one of her young life.

  “You can,” Echo said to the girl with emphasis. “And this will be far easier than you think, far easier than carrying Rainart.”

  Echo shoved the cannon toward the girl, and Zerah reluctantly reached for it. She looked over the weapon as if surveying an ancient relic. Her fingers touched it so lightly, so respectfully. She was amazed at its weight, lighter than she imagined for a metal sleeve. Its blue-gray steel looked slick, as if covered with oil or lacquer, but the weapon had the texture of brushed steel. There were tiny dents, minute scrapes, and a couple of deep gashes on the arm cannon, but otherwise it seemed perfect. With prompting from Echo, Zerah slid the weapon up her right arm until her hand felt a place to grip the weapon deep inside. Once she had gripped it, she felt the sleeve tighten to her forearm. Zerah looked at the weapon with wide eyes as it came all the way up to her elbow.

  “Can you feel the triggers at your fingers?” Echo asked the girl. Zerah nodded. “The trigger at your index finger is for the red specters. Do not pull the other triggers unless I tell you to do so. Okay?”

  Zerah nodded again, but with fear in her eyes. “Do you think there will be any more of them? Any more of the…”

  “I don’t know,” Echo said. She realized the girl had never done anything like this in her life. Zerah had never had to worry about monsters. Monsters hadn’t been real. Echo remembered what it felt like to believe the world was benign and safe, but that seemed so long ago now. She put a hand on Zerah’s shoulder and looked the girl in the eyes. “I’ve been where you are, Zerah. You will do what you need to. I know you will.”

  Zerah nodded again, and Echo lowered her head down under Rainart’s other arm. Once in position, she nodded to Zigmund, and they lifted the man back up. With fresh legs and Echo’s strength, the group moved forward at a much faster pace. It wasn’t long before the house and the garage were in sight. They came out of the forest and onto the driveway, and then they saw them by the gate at the bottom of the hill. Five specters locked their red eyes on the group and floated toward them. Zerah aimed the cannon and fired one shot far over the specters’ heads. She cursed and took aim again, her breathing becoming frantic.

  “Forget the specters!” Echo yelled. “Shoot the garage, Zerah! Right in the middle of the wall, and don’t stop shooting until I tell you to!”

  “What?” Zerah was beyond confused, and her thoughts were hampered by terror.

  “Do it, damn it!” Echo yelled.

  Zerah pulled the trigger over and over, her body absorbing the recoil of each shot. The evil red specters were getting closer all the time, but Zerah trusted Echo and continued to do what she was told. The shots seemed to make no impact on the outside of the garage, merely singing the wall and marking it black with ash. Five shots, then ten, and suddenly the structure caved a bit.

  “Keep firing!” Echo yelled. “As many shots as you can!”

  Zerah moved her index finger as fast as she could against the trigger, gritting her teeth and bracing her entire body. The cannon was heating, and her arm was dripping with sweat. It felt as if she was being burned, but she knew she couldn’t stop firing the cannon. Blast after blast rocketed against the wall of the garage, and now a hole that the group could see through was forming. Zerah could hear shrieks coming from the specters as they raced closer.

  “Shoot the damn specters, Zerah!” Zigmund was panicked.

  “No!” Echo yelled. “Zerah, hold the trigger down, aim at the base of the wall, and wait for my command to release it. Zigmund, hold Rainart up. Do not let him fall!”

  Echo released Rainart while Zigmund managed to keep him up, and then she pulled a black handgun from a compartment within her metal leg. She popped off two shots, and one of the specters dissipated. Two more shots rang out, and another specter was gone. Zerah was moaning through gritted teeth as the arm cannon’s heat was becoming unbearable.

  “Just a little longer!” Echo called out as she shot another of the red specters.

  The two remaining specters were now flying toward Zerah, who was focused on the wall. Echo squeezed another shot but missed, pulled the trigger again, and found the clip was empty. It seemed as if their time had run out. Echo moved back to Rainart and ducked under his shoulder.

  “Release it now, Zerah!” she yelled.

  Zerah released the trigger, and a massive blast of energy hurtled toward the wall. It connected with a loud crack as the group averted their eyes from the light and the debris. Left in the wake of the cannon’s supercharged blast was a large hole in the wall, its edges black and splintered. The last two specters were now stretching their arms toward Zerah, and Echo did the same.

  “Take my hand!” she commanded.

  Zerah did so, and Echo pulled the girl close. Then, leveraging her legs against the ground as much as she could, she pushed the group toward the hole and over the edge of the wall. Eyes wide with shock, they fell past the electromagnetic field and down into the large white room. The black metal floor was twenty feet below them and quickly coming closer.

  “Thumb, thumb, thumb!” Echo yelled. “Zerah, press your thumb trigger!”

  Everything stopped.

  Suspended motionless just three feet above the metal floor of the garage, Echo sighed with relief, Rainart groaned, and the twins blathered incoherently, shock overwhelming them. Echo looked up toward the hole in the wall and saw the red specters looking down, unable to pass through the electromagnetic field. Her plan had worked. The thumb trigger in her arm cannon had activated a suspension field that held them in place.

  Echo smiled as bittersweet memories warmed her heart and tears welled in her eyes. She remembered another place, another time, and another group of misfit allies. A man’s voice rang in her memory, as it often did, with a message from her past. More than anything…I needed to rescue you. Words she could never forget. Echo closed her eyes, allowing herself a private moment, and then the suspension field cut out, and the group fell to the floor with a thud.

  Grunts and groans came in abundance. A three-foot drop was by no means a great danger, but it wasn’t something that felt good against arms, legs, backs, and hips. The twins shot up before their elders, still panicked, still unsure of their safety. Echo sat up and looped her arms around her knees.

  “We’re safe now,” she said. “We’ll have to stay here for a while, but we’re safe. It’s over.”

  Rainart rolled over onto his back and co
ughed. He was alive but beyond weak. He tried to lift his head and look at the twins, but he couldn’t even do that. Echo looked over at the man, and he smiled.

  “How did you know I was gonna die today?” The man’s normally gruff voice was even more gravelly.

  “You’re lucky,” Echo said. “I came to tell you about a conversation I had with Kadira. I didn’t realize you were going to try to teach your niece to use zulis below the cliff. You’re damned lucky she’s a quick study. Not that I’m one to judge, but what the hell were you thinking?”

  Rainart sighed deeply, and it seemed as though something had changed in his mood. He turned his head slightly to look at Zigmund and Zerah. The twins were standing shoulder to shoulder, visibly shaken. Zerah was crying silently, the arm cannon, and her arm, hanging limply at her side. Zigmund looked like a zombie, his eyes half-open, unfocused, and devoid of emotion. Rainart looked at them, and something broke in him.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaked quietly, and tears ran sideways down his cheeks. It was the first time the twins had seen the man in a moment of weakness, and it was unnerving. He seemed older as he cried, lying on the floor, barely able to move. “I’m sorry, Addy. God, I’m sorry.” Rainart looked away as he said this, as if speaking to someone outside of the room. Then he looked back to his niece and nephew and unburdened himself. “I couldn’t go to her, because I would have failed her. Your mother—I would have failed her.”

  The teens looked at their broken uncle, and they were confused. Rainart knew they didn’t understand him; they couldn’t understand him. Zerah and Zigmund looked at each other as Rainart continued.

  “I can use zulis,” he said. “If Zerah had failed today, you would have lived, Zigmund. I could have healed you with a snap of my fingers…but I couldn’t heal your mother.” Comprehension washed over the twins, and then they were gripped with despair. “When I found out your mother was sick, I spent all my time trying to find the right zul to use. I searched and searched and experimented, over and over. I spent so many hours in this room. My house was crawling with specters for weeks.” Rainart grimaced in pain. “I couldn’t go to her and tell her I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t face my dying sister knowing I might be one step away from her salvation but couldn’t figure out which direction to walk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did she know?” Zigmund asked with tears in his eyes. “Did she know you used zulis?”

  “No,” Rainart uttered.

  “Then you should have gone to her,” Zig said. “She just wanted to see you. She wouldn’t have known you might have been able to heal her but couldn’t figure out how. She wouldn’t have known.”

  The next words dripped from Rainart’s lips like blood. They were slow words, painful words, and vital words. “But I would have.”

  IX

  Ah’Rhea had forgotten what this much adrenaline felt like coursing through her veins. It made her hands shaky as she ran the rocky pathway up the red cliff, trying to reach the zul master that needed her so desperately. Her legs felt like jelly, but she could hear each footstep fall, and she could see herself moving forward. Her senses were heightened, and she swore she could feel each hair standing on the back of her neck. Each breath drawn was sharp, and each exhalation was like window shutters in a storm.

  Why me? Ah’Rhea thought frantically. Why was I the one called?

  She tried to bring every one of her skills to the front of her mind, perusing each one as if flipping through the pages of an old book, searching for the correct passage. It was impossible to quickly assess everything she knew. She was a master, after all, and she knew a great deal about zulis. Not to mention the hundreds of spices, herbs, pollens, liquids, and other things that could be used in conjunction with zulis. The possibilities were endless. Ah’Rhea tried to calm her frantic mind as she ran. If she was the one who had been called, the zul master must surely need zul Ah’Rhea was specifically adept in. Something she could do the other masters in the valley could not.

  Think, she coached herself. Think.

  Ah’Rhea had always been good at stopping poisons. It was possible the master in need had been poisoned, although without knowing what had poisoned the master, she wouldn’t be able to come up with the correct zul. It could be a mortal wound that needed mending; Ah’Rhea was a very good healer. She couldn’t say whether she was the best in the valley, but she figured she must be somewhere near the top. However, the majority of zul masters were handy enough at healing that she wouldn’t have been called with the color sequence in the flames for such a predicament. The afflicted master would have simply found the nearest available help or taken care of the problem himself or herself. Ah’Rhea didn’t know how to prepare herself for what she would face, but as she climbed farther and farther up the pathway, she quickly realized preparing herself was a futile endeavor.

  She came to a fork in the ascending path, and Ah’Rhea saw the flames from the dying master’s fire. She was now close enough to call out if she wanted to. “I’m here,” she could say, or “I saw the fire.” These all seemed foolish and awkward. She didn’t see anyone near the fire, so she continued running toward the cave.

  Ah’Rhea briefly looked back out over the chasm and then to the cliffs on the other side. Some of the other masters had come out of their caves after seeing the flames and were now watching Ah’Rhea. In her sight the masters were small enough to seem like insects, and she assumed she looked the same to them. So many options for help here in Ferrenglyn. Again, she wondered why she had been chosen.

  Ah’Rhea closed in on the entrance to the cave, running straight through the billow of black smoke as it blew across her path. She still couldn’t remember whose cave this was, and she felt embarrassed not to know. She had always told herself she didn’t care what the other masters thought of her reclusiveness, but damn it all, she did care. There weren’t that many of them. How could she have let herself forget who lived in this cave? She slid to a stop on the red rock and fell forward against the threshold of the cave’s entrance. It was dark inside. She peered in, squinting to adjust her vision.

  “Hello?” she called. “It’s Ah’Rhea Eneoh. I’m here to help you.”

  Suddenly there was a shrill cry, and something large swept past Ah’Rhea’s head. She startled and jumped back, pressing herself against the rock as a giant red bird flew into the cave. The bird emanated red light that lit the walls as it glided forward and came to perch on the wooden footboard of a bed where an old woman lay. Ah’Rhea quickly realized it was no bird that had swept past her but a jawhar, and with that knowledge she quickly realized whose cave she was about to enter.

  There were only four zul masters in all Ferren who had jawhars. This particular jawhar was called Minas, and she belonged to the old woman in the bed, the great zul master Sigrid Sif. Ah’Rhea had heard many tales of Sigrid Sif and Minas, from all the way back in the earliest days of her childhood. She couldn’t believe she didn’t know this was Sigrid’s cave. Ah’Rhea immediately promised herself she would learn the location of every master in the valley and commit them all to memory.

  Ah’Rhea slowly walked toward the woman lying in her bed, Minas staring at her as she moved forward. “I’ve come to help you, great zul Master. I will save you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” the old woman croaked.

  Ah’Rhea stopped, now standing above the woman. Sigrid’s response had caught her off guard. “What?” Ah’Rhea uttered.

  “You can’t save me now,” Sigrid said. The woman’s tone was soft, and there seemed to be the lightest flutter of laughter behind her words. “No one can, child. I don’t have much more time, but I wanted someone to talk to.”

  “You called me here to talk?” Ah’Rhea asked, trying not to sound as incredulous as she was.

  “I know; I know,” the old woman said. “The color sequence in the fire was over the top. But what do I care? Let the valley get excited for a night. Let an old woman have her fun.”

  Sigrid smiled, and Ah�
��Rhea watched the woman’s face as it wrinkled in tired satisfaction like a soft pillow. The old woman’s bucktoothed grin was enough to make the stingiest audience smile along with her, and Ah’Rhea did so reflexively. She briefly looked around the room and noticed how disheveled the home was. A stale crust of bread sat on a table and looked as if it had begun to mold. There were random items of clothing strewn across the floor, and an odd smell was coming from somewhere. The cave was in a state Ah’Rhea would not have been able to abide if it were her own, but it seemed appropriate given Sigrid’s appearance. The old woman looked more tired than she could remember seeing anyone look in her life. It was a fatigue that beckoned the coming of permanent sleep.

  Master Sigrid pointed to a chair that sat in a dark corner of the cave, and Ah’Rhea understood she was to bring it close to the bed and sit down in it. It was made of heavy wood but antique looking and obviously made for a small person. Ah’Rhea sat in the chair and leaned forward, looking at the tiny woman curled underneath her wool blanket. She couldn’t help but feel sadness for her.

  “Don’t cry, child,” the old woman said, frowning at the single tear that had escaped Ah’Rhea’s eye. “Death is not a thing to be mourned. It’s the living that deserve your pity.”

  Ah’Rhea smiled at the woman and wiped her cheek, though she wasn’t entirely sure Sigrid had meant the comment as a joke. She looked into the woman’s green eyes, clouded with cataracts, and then looked at the hair falling over her cheeks in small white ringlets. Ah’Rhea couldn’t help but wonder what this woman had looked like in her younger years. Might she have looked like Ah’Rhea? Might they have been alike? Might Ah’Rhea end up alone, in a similar way?

  “I do believe I brought you here to talk, child. Please don’t let an old woman down by clamming up like a mute.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ah’Rhea said with another embarrassed smile. “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just…well…if it was conversation you were looking for, you may have made a terrible choice in company.”