The Hands of Ruin: Book One

by Peters, Dylan Lee

  • • •

  Zerah and Echo sat in the lotus position about two feet directly across from each other as if about to play a children’s board game. In between them on the metal floor of Rainart’s garage was a small ivory-colored cloth. To Zerah’s left-hand side, Echo’s right, were two glasses of water. On the cloth were six small brown kernels of something Echo called grains of paradise. Next to these grains were two pinches of the reddish-brown spice that was growing in familiarity to Zerah, the notorious zulis. It was time for Echo and Zerah to leave for Ferren.

  It had stunned Zerah to hear the way in which she and Echo would travel to Ferren. In her mind, she had thought interplanetary travel would necessitate a spacecraft. Though Zerah had no knowledge of the existence of spacecraft that traveled between planets, outside of what she had seen in science fiction movies, she had assumed it was just another thing to add to the list of things she didn’t know. However, she was wrong about the necessity of a spacecraft for the journey. It turned out they would need only that which now sat before them.

  Echo had explained it quite simply. They would each take three grains of paradise and a pinch of zulis, washed down with a glass of water, and then they would find themselves in a mysterious place known as the Solar Road. Once on the Solar Road, they would begin their journey to Ferren. Echo was outfitted with her normal armaments, as well as a backpack of supplies. Zerah had her own backpack, which had been filled with water bottles, some protein bars, and a few other things.

  Now, they sat at the center of the garage, ready to begin their journey to Ferren. Owing to the impending use of zulis, both Rainart and Zigmund sat with their backs against the far wall so as to not be caught up in the departure. Zerah looked across the room at her brother, and he gave his best effort at a smile for her sake. She had forced herself to believe he was truly all right with her decision. Even though they were twins, Zerah had always looked at Zigmund like a big brother. She didn’t like thinking she might be disappointing him.

  After the conversation in the dining room, and after Zerah had fetched food from the kitchen, she had found Zigmund in his room, staring out the window at the moon. His door had been open, so she didn’t feel she was intruding when she walked in. He was sitting on his bed so silently Zerah had almost been afraid to make a sound. However, she didn’t know then how much time she would have to say good-bye to him, and she couldn’t risk missing the opportunity.

  “I won’t be able to live with myself if you hate me, Ziggy.”

  “Of course I don’t hate you, Zip.” Zigmund’s voice was empathetic, but he hadn’t turned from staring out the window.

  Zerah crossed the bed and sat down next to him. “I wish you could go with me.”

  Zigmund looked at his sister now, and she saw the tears in his eyes. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, so many nasty names he wanted to call her for leaving him, for being braver than he was, and for being more special than he was. Zerah saw the hurt and fear in her brother’s eyes, and then she threw her arms around him.

  “I’m going to come back,” she promised.

  “I don’t want that promise,” he said, and Zerah released him with an odd look. “I want you to promise me you won’t come back until you find what you’re looking for. Whatever it is inside of you that needs to go to Ferren, I don’t want you back until it’s satisfied. Don’t come back and be like Rainart. Don’t come back and be like Dad. If you do this, you do this all the way. You know what I mean, right?”

  Zerah understood her brother perfectly, and she hugged him again. “I’ll miss you, Ziggy. I love you.”

  Zigmund hugged her back. “You’d better.”

  In the garage now, she looked away from Zigmund, and she promised herself she would do it. She wouldn’t be Rainart, hiding away because she didn’t have the power to save the ones she loved. She wouldn’t be her father, destroying herself through dangerous experiments. She would succeed where others had failed. She was going to Ferren to become a zul master.

  Echo picked up three grains of paradise and held them in her palm, waiting for Zerah to mimic her action. She then placed them on her tongue. Zerah followed. Then the pinch of zulis, placed on her tongue with the grains of paradise. Again, Zerah followed. Echo grabbed her glass of water, Zerah grabbed hers, they clinked their glasses in a toast, and then they drank the water down.

  Zigmund watched his sister mimic everything Echo did, and then a quiet moment passed. There was a swell of green light, and the air seemed to warp around the center of the room.

  “Bye, Zerah,” Zigmund whispered more to himself than to anyone else. “I love you. Stay safe.”

  Then, in a flash, Echo and Zerah were gone.

  XI

  It had taken Endemall and Gildwyn nearly five days to emerge from the tunnels. They arrived in the forests of Whiteclaw tribe filthy, stinking, and terribly hungry. Fortunately, they hadn’t needed to enter the deep again, and they had not been sidetracked by any other collapses. Endemall wanted to hoot at the sun and kiss the green leaves on the trees as he pulled himself up and out of a hole below an old dead tree. Yet his happiness was tamped down when he looked back to Gildwyn, pulling himself up and out of the clandestine passage. It was evident Gildwyn was still mourning his loss. He looked like a shell of a man, covered in dirt, pale, and without the will for mirth. The loss of Mayddox hung over him, and all he could do to help it was focus on reaching Ferrenglyn.

  Without celebration, the two men continued their trek until they came on the small village of Aldercot, and as fortune would have it, Gildwyn found an old man willing to give aide to an envoy of Chief Redcroft. The man worked as the village professor, educating youth and serving as good counsel to all. He invited the two men into his modest cabin, fed them, allowed them to bathe, and gave them a room in which to sleep for a good long night. In the morning, the men gave their thanks, and Gildwyn promised to speak kindly of Aldercot the next time he met with Fordrick Redcroft. The old man invited them to stay for breakfast and conversation. He was especially interested to learn from Endemall. However, Gildwyn declined, as he was focused only on reaching Ferrenglyn. He and Endemall had a job to do, and that was that.

  Endemall knew the envoy was keeping his mind on task to avoid thinking about the loss of Mayddox. It was all just as well for Endemall. He was also eager to reach Ferrenglyn. He figured the farther he got from Zehnder tribe, the better. As he and Gildwyn walked the roads of Aldercot, the queer looks he received from the villagers weren’t making him feel welcome anyway. The men agreed it was time to leave Aldercot.

  Before departing, Gildwyn and Endemall went to the village stable in hope of purchasing horses. Alas, they quickly found there were none to be had. So they continued on to the local store, purchased supplies for the road, and turned south toward Ferrenglyn. Gildwyn thought they would find someone driving a carriage along the way that would be willing to give them a ride. The road south from Aldercot was a main throughway in Whiteclaw tribe. Gildwyn was confident in his plan.

  However, it had been almost a full day on the road south, and the two men hadn’t had a bit of luck. Traffic was not as heavy as Gildwyn had hoped, and the two carriages that had passed wouldn’t give their help to the men, even after hearing that Gildwyn was a Whiteclaw tribe envoy. In fact, one of the drivers, a man with long hair and a hefty underbite, seemed quite put off at the thought of giving free help to someone who worked at the palace. The driver of the second carriage, a red-haired woman with her children at her side, looked Endemall up and down skeptically before refusing her help and continuing on down the road.

  Night was falling, and though the men were moving steadily southward into warmer climes, the temperatures were cooling more than they liked. Falling temperatures and fading light would force them to make a shelter. It was not something either of them wanted to do. Gildwyn especially did not want to spend the night huddled in the forest, even if he and Endemall could scrape together a suitable shelter. Time spent in s
tillness brought introspective thought, and that was the last thing Gildwyn wanted right now.

  Fortunately, they were given one more opportunity before they would have to make that hard decision. Another carriage could be seen coming down the road with lanterns lit and hung at its sides, and Gildwyn knew this could be their final chance to catch a ride. Afraid of failure, Gildwyn turned to Endemall and made a suggestion.

  “Maybe you should stay in the shadows until I’ve conversed with the driver,” Gildwyn said. “I’m not suggesting anything about your character, but I think the people of this tribe are reacting poorly to your, um, outfit.”

  Endemall shrugged. “Trust me, Nye. Nobody in Zehnder tribe found me too pleasant either. I say we give this driver a quick chance to do things the easy way, and if they don’t comply, then we just take the damned carriage.” Endemall nodded toward his sheathed knives.

  “Out of the question,” Gildwyn chastised. “I thought you were leaving your life of crime behind you, Endemall. You can’t expect anyone to provide you with amnesty if you refuse to turn over a new leaf.”

  Endemall’s eyes brightened. “Gaw, Nye, you’re a genius. Leaf will do the trick.”

  The carriage approached the men and slowed. Seated with reins in her hands was a thin woman with a long black hat and metal piercings lining the curvature of her right ear. As she came abreast of the men, Endemall pulled a small canvas pouch out of his vest pocket and tossed it up into the woman’s lap.

  “What’s this?” the woman said dubiously.

  “Open it up and take a sniff, m’lady. That little pouch of wonder is all yours if you take me and my friend as far south as Ferrenglyn.” Endemall put his hands on his hips smugly.

  The woman pulled the tie loose on the pouch and raised it to her nose. She inhaled the pungent fragrance and then cocked an eyebrow. “Pink leaf. Where would you have gotten this around here?”

  “M’lady,” said Endemall with a sly grin, “does it look as if I’m from anywhere near this damned forest?”

  “Why are you traveling with this stiff?” the woman asked, motioning toward Gildwyn.

  Gildwyn frowned in indignation.

  “Well,” Endemall began, “every traveler needs a guide, don’t they?”

  The woman looked Endemall up and down, taking her time as her eyes passed over the man’s bare thighs. Then she looked back to Gildwyn.

  “You know how to get to Wentworth?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Gildwyn answered tersely.

  “And I assume you can drive a carriage?” she asked.

  “Obviously,” Gildwyn muttered.

  “Good,” the woman said and jumped down from her seat. She stood in front of Endemall, and now the men could see the woman was quite petite. Endemall was a large man, and the woman came up only to his abdomen. She played with the bag of pink leaf in her hand and looked toward Gildwyn. “Take us to Wentworth, guide.” Then she circled behind Endemall and slapped him across his ass. “I’ll be in the back with this one.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, m’lady,” Endemall said.

  Gildwyn rolled his eyes, sighed, and privately wondered what in the world he had gotten himself into.

  • • •

  The village of Wentworth sat along the southern border of Whiteclaw tribe, past the great forest, and into the rolling grasslands. It was only a half day’s journey from Wentworth to Ferrenglyn on foot, and given the experience Gildwyn had just endured, he was of the opinion he and Endemall could walk the final leg of their trek. Gildwyn was in no mood for any more bargains.

  Though the distance was not all that far, the climate changed drastically from Wentworth to Ferrenglyn. The lush rolling hills of Whiteclaw tribe’s southern reaches turned into the sparsely vegetated sandy dunes of the valley’s outskirts. Many people believed the change was due to the zulis present in the valley. In fact, the majority of Ferrenites felt the mystical substance held sway over everything. The sun was far more intense as the men came closer to Ferrenglyn, and Endemall’s pink skin was suffering for it. He turned to Gildwyn, saw he too had sweat pouring down his forehead, and thought the envoy at least might give him some sympathy, though he couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

  “I know when we left the tunnels, I said I’d never wish the sun away again,” Endemall said and wiped the sweat dripping off the end of his long nose, “but fucking hell if the gods aren’t trying to make me eat my words.”

  Silence filled the space between the two men after that. There had been a lot of silence between Gildwyn and Endemall since the deep. Endemall knew Gildwyn blamed himself for the loss of Mayddox. He had, after all, said as much. But Endemall couldn’t help but wonder how long the man would be mired in mourning, and was disappointed to see his comment couldn’t even draw a smile out of Gildwyn. All Gildwyn did in response was to shade his eyes with one hand and point to the horizon with the other.

  “The Temple of Origin,” Gildwyn said. “We’re almost there.”

  Endemall looked at the temple as they walked toward it, its four spires standing so tall and proud in the sun. Rays of light reflected off of the multicolored glass windows that dotted the spires and the main walls of the temple. The roof was an elaborate series of orange tiles that looked like ancient and rustic armor. The place looked far too important for Endemall, and with their goal now in sight, he felt an odd discomfort. Again, he tried to end the awkward silence.

  “You think there might be a place to get better clothing around that temple?” Endemall asked Gildwyn. “I’m too damned pale for this sun on my skin.”

  “There should be something close, but I want to go to the temple first,” Gildwyn answered. He had stripped his yak-hair clothing off after leaving the tunnels, his normal attire underneath. “I need to see whether there’s any correspondence waiting for me there. Don’t worry. We’ll be out of the sun once we’re inside.”

  “I’ve never been, you know,” Endemall said.

  “To the Temple of Origin?” Gildwyn asked.

  “The Temple of Origin, Ferrenglyn, any of it,” Endemall answered. “I’ve been to Whiteclaw tribe a couple of times, but outside of that I’ve never left Zehnder tribe.”

  The sandy dunes of Ferrenglyn were never all that welcoming. The men could now see mud huts lining the northern boundary of the village, but they didn’t do much to enhance aesthetics either. Gildwyn had never thought on it before, but coming into Ferrenglyn by this way made the whole thing seem rather desolate. He imagined what it must have felt like for someone about to enter the sacred land for the first time.

  “It doesn’t look like much, I know,” Gildwyn said. “The climate is dry, hot, and not really all that welcoming, but this was where humanity first came to Ferren. The Temple of Origin is built on the very place our people arrived after traveling the Solar Road. When you’re at the temple, it just feels special. It feels like a place beyond time, or at least it has always felt that way for me.” Gildwyn pointed back to the temple that rose above the huts of the village. “Those four spires stand to represent the four tribes. The amount of history and knowledge contained in those walls is unbelievable. There are so many books documenting our history it would make your head spin. Every time I walk into that temple, I feel proud to be a Ferrenite. I know it sounds foolish, but I suppose you’ll just have to see for yourself.”

  Endemall shrugged and wiped more perspiration from his brow. “You can keep the history and knowledge, Nye. I’ll settle for a cold bath.”

  Twenty minutes passed, and the two men found themselves standing at the entrance to the Temple of Origin. The massive wooden door was decorated with gold and large polished stones. Endemall figured the two doors had to be twenty feet high and ten feet wide each. They parted inward at the middle for the travelers, and as Gildwyn and Endemall moved inside, they thanked the workers who had opened the doors.

  The men walked into an expansive entrance chamber, with glass windows in the ceiling that bathed an ornately sculpted f
ountain in sunlight. It looked as if the rays of the sun were sent down from the heavens for no other reason than to shine on the fountain. Endemall was not going to admit it, but Gildwyn had been right. The Temple of Origin was impressive, and he found himself closing his open jaw for fear of looking wonderstruck.

  “The fountain is sculpted in white stone and is hundreds of years old,” Gildwyn told Endemall as they walked through the main room. “I assume you recognize the likenesses of the Ancients.”

  Endemall nodded, still silent in a reverence he hadn’t anticipated. The great sculpture was beautiful, a statue of three of the four ancient creators of man. Tenturo the griffin and Bahknar the dragon were standing back to back, while the beautiful mermaid Chera sat at their side, delivering water into the fountain from her gracious hands. Endemall knew all these deities from the stories of his youth, but he had never been as mesmerized by them as he was now.

  However, the beauty of the fountain was nothing in comparison to the majesty of the gigantic mural painted on the far wall behind it. As the men passed the fountain and the sun’s rays now fell behind them, Endemall sighed audibly at the mural that extended up the entire thirty-foot height of the wall.

  “You weren’t kidding, were you, Nye?” Endemall was floored.

  “I assume you recognize the scene the mural depicts,” Gildwyn said.

  “Of course.” Endemall was like a child at the foot of his heroes. “That’s the moon god, Densa, in his battle against the Great Tyrant, and above them is the sun god, Evercloud. My father used to tell my brother and me that story of old Earth almost every night before we were sent to bed. It’s like that mural was painted right out of my imagination.”

  “I told you,” Gildwyn said. “It just feels special in this place.”

  At the bottom of the wall adorned with the massive mural was a service window, where a sun-kissed temple worker sat attending to his papers. Endemall followed Gildwyn forward as he approached the dark young man at the window.