by Colin Taber
“Can we not join forces for the campaign and then be left in peace?”
“Juvela, I don’t know why, but this new campaign has really aroused them back in Yamere. I think they have greater plans for Ossard than merely taking it to remove the cultists, or to merely make it a colony – a colony they have already named.”
“Already named?”
“Yes, as Lae Ossard.”
“Lae?” I said, but the meaning of the Lae Velsanan word was already bubbling up from the depths of my mind, so I gave it voice, “New?”
New Ossard!
“Yes. I think they plan to take it quickly, overwhelming it with simple numbers, in addition to the Dominion’s celestial power. Then, perhaps, to look south at the Heletian League.”
We reached the top of the stairs and started crossing the second terrace, placing us out of view of his ship. “Why?”
“Because some at home think taking Ossard is not enough and it’s time to strike against the Heletian League.”
He looked to his guards, all men of House Jenn. “We need to talk, to speak frankly. Do you have a place here where we will not be overheard?”
I nodded. “Follow me.” I headed straight for the hall beside the heartwood gate, the one still crowned by its tower.
We reached the hall, now empty after most of our people had headed to watch the Lae Velsanan ship’s arrival. Stepping inside, I gave Fel a moment to also see it was empty then I said, “The tower above is one of the most private places close to your ship. We can go up there and talk, unheard by anyone but the birds of the sound.”
“A good idea.” He looked to Baruna and Kurt. “It would be best if you stay down here with my guard. Between both parties, I imagine you can stop or at least stall anyone trying to enter.”
Baruna and Kurt glanced at the four guardsmen and nodded.
I turned and led Fel up the ancient stairs. Once we’d begun to climb the tight spiral that would eventually lead us to the tower’s top, he said, “I won’t be able to stay long. In truth, I’m sticking my neck out. The crew thinks I’m mad, and my Prince is angry.”
I almost paused to hear such a thing, but now was not the time to slow. “While it’s good to see you, you shouldn’t have risked coming.”
We continued to climb up, rounding again in silence once and then twice. His voice sounded behind me, breaking and thick, “I had to. I had to come and warn you.”
We didn’t have far to go. At the top was room to sit. “Fel, we’re nearly at the top. Once there we’ll have some privacy and you can tell me what you must.”
And finally we found the tower’s top, a lone room dominated by four windows. I sat with my back to one, while he sat beside me at the top of the steps. It was a tight space, one made tighter with the both of us there, his broad shoulders half the width of the room.
His eyes took in the space as he settled down, including glancing at the view. They opened a little in surprise. “That’s a wonderful vista, truly beautiful.”
“Yes.”
He turned to me. “I knew the Fifth and Final Dominion would move to take Ossard when the Heletian League failed. I also knew that when it did, such muscles, if flexed, would not be strained lightly. There will be no half measures, but...” and his voice trailed off.
I prompted, “But?”
“But what we are hearing from the Dominion’s core is momentous.”
“You spoke of two thousand ships.”
“Yes, the bulk of them troop carriers or warships, but not all. There will be masses of troops and marines, including a strong magical component. The city of Ossard will not stand a chance; cultists or not, it will fall into Dominion hands.”
This was what we had expected, what we’d thought was to come all along, but as he sat there and I saw the apprehension in his eyes, I finally got a sense of what was rallying on the other side of Dormetia.
I asked, “Why?”
He shook his head before putting his hands to his face in frustration. “In truth, I don’t know. The build-up of this grand fleet is being promoted as yet another grand stage of the Ansilsae Prophecy, a fresh chapter to deliver new lands, but...”
“But?”
“But something else is rousing, and I fear its face.”
“What do you mean?”
“A great hatred, an ancient one, is being revived.”
“A hatred of what?”
“Of middlings. Last century it was the Flets, now it seems it’s to be the Heletians.”
“What’s happening?”
“Juvela, do you know what the Velsanan word Aker means?”
“I’ve heard it in passing... it means port.”
“That is good, and what about the Velsanan word manis?”
“No, I’ve no idea, but I heard you mention the port of Aker Manis before, so it must tie in with the port?”
“Yes.” And his voice faded.
“What is it, Fel?”
“I don’t need to hide the truth from you. You are a Flet. You know my people have had great moments and grand tragedies, as well as times of generosity and ingenuity, but all of it often married to fits of extreme cruelty.”
“Def Turtung.”
“Yes, but there have been many such atrocities over the ages.”
“What does manis mean?”
“Manis is a name that many of our kind have wanted to change, but to others it is a joke, a dark joke, one built of a bloody history. Manis means middling men, which might not be a surprise, or sound so horrible, but what Aker Manis really means is that the whole city was once a rising port of middling men... a place my people coveted. So we took it, overran it, and put the original people of Aker Manis to the sword. Every last one of them.”
I gasped, so appalled I could say nothing.
“It was home to one of the lost tribes of the Heletians.”
“Oh,” I finally managed, still stunned by the admission.
“Juvela, some in The Core are stirring passions to again build my people into a frenzy of genocidal bloodletting. They aim to let that fury break upon the Northcountry, using the campaign to further stoke passions and then to charge south into the heart of the Heletian League.”
“It’ll be a bloodbath!”
“Yes, if it happens.”
“What’s to stop it?”
“Who can say?”
I just stared at him.
“What I came to tell you,” and he began to shift as he spoke, getting ready to go, “is that when our campaign reaches these shores, it will break like a gigantic wave.”
“You mean not just Ossard.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Your people will most likely be swept up in the campaign, and that’s something you need to think about. Perhaps you could hide here, but you won’t be able to live out in the open. You need to look at ways to survive.” He began to rise, but his eyes were locked on mine as he begged for me to take his words seriously.
I started to get up myself, and put a hand to his arm to stop him before he started to descend the steps.
He froze, looking to my hand. After a moment, he glanced up to meet my eyes. “I was so worried after I found you on the ridge overlooking Ossard.”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“As fine as I can be.”
“They told me your husband went to fight in Ossard?”
“Yes.”
Fel swallowed. “How did he fare?”
“He died on that damned city’s streets.”
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “It is a loss I am still trying to come to terms with.”
“I’m glad I found you, though I never expected to see you there.”
“What were you doing?”
“We were scouting, watching the climax of the Inquisition’s campaign.”
“Yes, in an airship.”
He paused for a moment, pursing his lips. “You saw it?”
“Yes, not that I remember more th
an fleeting glimpses.”
“I’d rather you didn’t speak of it; such things are not usually revealed.”
“That’s not important now.”
“No, you’re right...”
The sound of marching came to us from the terrace below. We stopped and looked down from the windows to see a small troop of Lae Velsanan soldiers following Prince Jusbudere as he topped the steps from the lower terrace. After seeing Fel’s guard of four at the entrance to the hall below, he began to make his way across, his face stony and his steps firm.
Fel cursed under his breath. “Time for me to go.”
I nodded.
He said, “Juvela, my father is coming here. I have told him of your community. He will be here soon enough, before any fighting. Be prepared for another Lae Velsanan ship. I may not get the chance to return, not before the campaign begins. In the end, whether I do or not will be up to Prince Jusbudere.”
“Your father?”
“He wishes to see you and your people. He may also be able to offer you a path to safety.”
“Fel, while I want my people to be safe, in the end, I must be here for Ossard’s last moments.”
Confusion came to his face. “Juvela, you can’t! What will be unleashed will be devastating.”
“Fel, I must... it’s what I am here to do.”
He shook his head incredulously.
Prince Jusbudere’s voice sounded from below as he neared the hall, calling to the guards, “Where is Felamaradis?”
Fel put a hand on my own. “Rethink your cause and discuss what you can with my father. Perhaps he can help.”
I nodded.
“I must go.” He turned and began to descend the stairs.
I followed, thinking on his words – a Lae Velsanan attack would be worse than anything I could picture. I’d heard enough to know it was true. Such a thing wouldn’t only be a matter of swords and soldiers, but also unprecedented magic. Ossard would surely fall, and the Northcountry with it.
We hurried down the stairs, and as we rounded that sinking spiral, we heard voices.
“Where is he?”
A Lae Velsanan guard answered his prince, “Speaking to the Flet Lady who presides over these ruins.”
“In here?”
“Yes, my Prince.”
And then we reached the bottom of the stairs.
Fel was quick to move to the entrance of the hall, without looking back at me. “Prince Jusbudere, I am here.”
“Felmaradis, it is time for us to leave.”
“Of course, my Prince,” Fel said as he came to stand in front of Jusbudere, blocking entry into the hall.
The prince saw me, glimpsing me over Fel’s shoulder as I followed him and came more fully into view. The look on his face went from one of serious enquiry to curiosity. That new look sat uncomfortably, tinted by distaste and amusement.
“Felmaradis, you may as well do me the honour of an introduction, seeing as I am now here?”
Fel tensed, and then took a step back and to the side.
The prince stood there, tall, even for a Lae Velsanan, putting him a full head above Fel, but he was also broad. He was a very imposing figure. Pale skin starkly contrasted his black hair, the latter an unusual colour for a Lae Velsanan, unlike his piercing eyes of grey.
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Then I sensed him, all of him, and remembered...
Soul eater!
For a moment my vision darkened as I realised we both perused each other, assessing what power each held.
He was an avatar, his soul strong and old, barely visible, hidden under layers of a complex weave.
Yet...
Yet he didn’t know it.
He was unawakened. The layers that covered his soul worked to conceal his truth. And what I sensed of his presence and his celestial perusal of me was of his own unconscious reflex, an instinctive move to defend himself.
Did I ever do such things?
Finally, I stood before him and gave a slight curtsy, “Welcome to Marco’s Ruin, Prince Jusbudere.”
He looked at me quizzically, his face lighting up before he finally gave out a small laugh, amazed that I, a middling, had the guts to just walk up and introduce myself.
Didn’t I know who he was?
“You have found an interesting place to reside – an ancient home of heathens – but I find the name strange... Marco’s Ruin?” He looked to Fel, to include his officer in his joke. “For if this is Marco’s Ruin then the man must be a terrible mess?”
His words brought back the image to me – Marco’s body lying battered and bloodied in the back alleys of Newbank, his soul desperately trying to hold on long enough to impart news of where my family had been taken.
Poor Marco.
“We named this place after one of our own who did not make it here, but told us of its existence.”
Jusbudere listened, his eyes focussed and intent. He was assessing me.
He said, “Lady Juvela, that sounds as though I’ve touched upon a tale of woe.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “How unfortunate; I’d not meant to disrespect anyone, let alone one of your dead men.”
“I know no slight was intended, your Prince.”
“No, of course not.”
Fel stood there, shifting uncomfortably. “My Prince, we should go.”
Jusbudere turned to him and flashed a smirk. “Yes, I suppose we should.” He turned back to me. “Perhaps I’ll see you again, Lady Juvela?”
“I do hope so.” I gave slight bow.
Hope so? I wasn’t so sure about that. He seemed friendly enough, but there was a keen mind behind those sharp eyes, partnered with a good helping of cunning.
With a dip of his head, he turned and left, followed by Fel and his guards, who joined the retinue of Lae Velsanan soldiers he’d brought with him when he’d crossed the terrace.
Fel gave me a quick glance and a smile before turning his attention back to his prince.
Chapter 12
-
A Waking Nightmare
-
The Varm Carga, the island of Kalraith.
Anton was first to dry and dress. While the others finished readying themselves, he suggested, “Some food and then some exploring?”
Sef gave a nod. “This may be our first day of walking in the long and cold dark. So, whatever we do, let’s be comfortable and as ready for it as we can be.”
Matraia agreed. “Well said, and please let us arrange some light?”
Anton began digging out food, as he said, “Yes, time to seek the blessing to banish the gloom.”
Sef agreed, “Do not fear, Juvela will soon light our way.”
Matraia looked hopeful to hear such a thing. “The gargoyles like the shadows and the night, but we Dagruan are more for the light of the sun. I hope Juvela delivers something bright and strong.”
Sef stood staring up the dark roadway. “If this does go all the way under the mountain, I wonder what we might see.”
Anton looked up from where he finished sorting some food. “Who knows, but I’ll wager we’ll need to have our wits about us. The tunnel may not be stable in places, like the entrance behind us. It may also not go all the way through as rock falls may have blocked it, but the stream and draft suggest it certainly goes somewhere.”
Matraia gave a chuckle, seemingly free of her ills for a moment. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
“True enough, but not on an empty stomach. Come and eat something, then we’ll get under way.”
After taking some food, they started out, heading up the middle of the wide and empty road, with the stream on their right and an open roadway on their left. For now they walked up the road as it climbed at a gentle angle and ran off ahead, seeming to go nowhere but straight. The rise was very gentle.
A thick layer of dust covered the ground, often making the road ahead appear to be smooth, but upon closer examination, that was far from the truth. Thin cracks ran
along some sections of the tunnel walls and roof, such things revealing where the mountain had shifted. In other places, piles of debris fallen from the roof lay on the roadway, jagged edges softened by a layer of dust.
Soon enough they were left alone in the dark, accompanied by little more than the soft moan of the insistent draft and the trickle and bubble of the stream that had worn itself a path through the dirt and dust over the years. They’d gone as far as the faint daylight behind would allow. None of them were creatures of the night; they needed some illumination to aid them, so it was time for Sef to call on Juvela.
The big Flet looked inwards and touched the celestial, as he said, “Hear me, Juvela, as we cross the Varm Carga and seek out Dorloth. In this crossing, one that will take us under the mountains, we need your guidance and support, but also a blessing of sustained light to illuminate our subterranean way.”
They stood deep in the shadows for a moment, but then, before doubts could seed in their minds, a light flared around them.
Sef worked at weaving the gifted power in the celestial, fashioning it to suit their needs.
The light was not a blinding flare or flash, but instead rose to be a soft green glow. It didn’t seem to come from anywhere or anything in particular, but was centred on Sef.
Anton nodded, pleased.
Matraia smiled. “This is good... not too bright to blind us, but enough to light our way.”
They adjusted their gear, readying themselves, knowing this was the beginning of a long part of their trek, one into the unknown, and then began to move forward.
The subtle rise in the road almost levelled out after a while, and before long they lost all daylight, leaving it far behind. While none of them voiced it, each wondered what the sun’s absence would do to their comprehension of passing time.
Along the way, water dripped down from the many cracks in the roof. Usually such flows were small but steady, landing where they had made a pool in the dust and dirt over long years, before then trickling away to join the main run of the stream. Sometimes other leaks came in heavier flows and could be heard echoing down the tunnel from afar, long before they reached them.