Myst’s nose crinkled in disbelief. Zyn Beasts were monsters in fairy tales. Reading the look on her face, Laridiya regarded the young swordswoman with scorn. “So, you are thinking just because you have not seen it, it does not exist?”
Myst opened her mouth to speak, but realized quite suddenly, that she had nothing to say. She could not refute the cat-beasts she saw on the river the night before. They fit the description of the monsters in her childhood bedtimes stories.
“So, that was a wolf Zyn Beast I fought last night?”
“Yes,” Laridiya answered, her eyes appraising Myst. “And you must be either very skilled or very lucky to have survived.”
Myst nodded, recalling the creature’s strength and the way they had destroyed Valdine. She looked over at Laridiya, who had returned to her business at the low table.
“How did you survive? How were you able to hold them back?”
Laridiya stopped, her shoulders slouching in weary remembrance. “The strange ship moved on, leaving the farms and other homes to the wolf pack. I and the remaining adults made a last stand here in this small huddle of homes. Only by the blessings of Ethaea did we succeed. I was able to mortally wound two of them and the rest slunk off into the surrounding forest.”
Myst stood up, flexing her left arm and testing the movement. “They could still be out there,” she commented, looking around for her weapons. “They could be waiting for cover of darkness.” Her warrior skills were kicking in. The sun outside was beginning to set and they had very little time to build a defense against these wolf things…these Zyn Beasts.
“I have a feeling they are gone,” Laridiya said with her back still turned. “One of them kept saying they had to keep the trail fresh, as though they were hunting someone. But why decimate an innocent village?”
Myst brought to mind the speech given by the lion Zyn Beast just before they unleashed fire upon Valdine. “Punishment,” she mumbled.
“By the Great Garden…for what reason would they need to punish us?” Laridiya had once again halted her work and turned to Myst, her hands planted on wide hips.
Myst’s eyes became clouded as she remembered what the lion beast declared just before the air was filled with fire. “A human has taken something called a Purestone and they have tracked him to Kaalmoore.”
Laridiya’s mouth remained agape as she took in what Myst told her. “The Purestone…are you certain?”
Myst nodded. “Is it important?”
“It is important, it is rare, it is invaluable, and it is…the light. The concentration of the power of Diathanos,” Laridiya leaned against the table, her own eyes far away. “Surely the thieves did not think…”
Turning away, Myst looked out the window to the setting sun. She disliked talk of religious matters and this whole mess seemed tied to the gods, somehow. Nothing ever came out of religion but trouble, she thought.
“Where are you traveling to?” Laridiya suddenly asked.
Myst rounded upon the healer with a quizzical stare. “We were heading home to Joram’s Bend.”
“Joram’s Bend,” Laridiya repeated with a grin. “Good, good. It’s much more formidable than this place; high rock, protective walls, it will do.”
“What will do?” demanded Myst.
Laridiya sighed and gave Myst an exasperated look. “We have eleven children here without a home, three women and four men without a means to support them. Eighteen refugees will need our help to reach their new home of Joram’s Bend. But we will have to leave quickly to reach the town before the Zynnashans do.”
Myst could feel that events were rolling out of her control. It was a simple matter to just focus on escaping Valdine or getting help for Tair’Lianne or even going home. Now it sounded like Laridiya was volunteering her to guide all the remaining citizenry of Tabaan to the borders of Joram’s Bend. The elders of her home town were not likely to welcome the Tabaan refugees with open arms. The Bend is a close-knit community of farmers and they have no interest in anyone from the “outside”.
Compounding the problem was that she and Tair were not exactly welcome there and it would certainly not help their situation if they were seen leading a group of unwanted refugees into town. She mentioned this to the healer who was already stuffing items into a large canvas sack.
“I don’t think your town elders will mind having the extra hands around to help,” she said briskly.
“Help with what? The harvest is nearly over and planting season does not begin until the rains come…”
Myst was interrupted by the sudden movement of Laridiya. She had whirled around to face Myst and moved in close to emphasize her words. “Did the Zyn Beast’s attack leave you addled? If the Zynnashans continue to attack every city they come across down river…”
Laridiya left it open for Myst’s interpretation. She had no idea why she had not thought of it before. Joram’s Bend would be the next target for the Zynnashans.
***
Tair’Lianne sat on the stump of a tree, watching the refugee children play in the larger yard of the four remaining houses of Tabaan. The early autumn sun had just touched the thick tree line to the west and a few wispy clouds of white raced across the deepening blue sky. A cool wind tickled the back of her neck, keeping the stench of the still smoldering village at bay.
Tair tightened her left fist and elevated her arm once more, amazed that her once broken bone was now completely healed. She brushed her hand over the spot where the collapsing building had cracked open her skull. All that was left now was the ghost of a headache. Say what you will, she thought admirably, but those god fearing gem healers know what they’re doing.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Myst step out of the house the healer was using for her patients. She looked like hell. Her red hair was sticking every which way; her black pants and boots were stained with mud; and she was now wearing a plain, brown-woolen cloak to cover her sleeveless black jerkin. She still wore a bandage on her shoulder and winced as she adjusted her sword belt with the weapons the healer had returned to her. Her green eyes looked as though she could have used another full night of sleep and a number of scratches marred her usually smooth face. She approached Tair with a genuine smile of relief.
“You look like a boorsliig bedded you,” Tair said matter-of-factly.
Myst nodded in agreement. “That’s what happens when I have to drag your scrawny rear from one town to another.”
“Thank you for that,” Tair said with fierce sincerity. “I don’t remember too much of what happened after the building came down. I dreamt I stabbed a dog.”
Myst laughed aloud, “That was a Zynnashan.”
Tair gave her the same look that Myst had given to Laridiya.
“A wolf Zyn Beast,” Myst told her. “That’s what those things were that attacked Valdine.” Myst went on to describe the fight with the wolf creature, reaching Tabaan, and what Laridiya had asked of them.
Tair had many questions about fairy tale monsters suddenly becoming real, but the moment Myst mentioned returning to Joram’s Bend, all thoughts of Zyn Beasts disappeared faster than the fading sunlight of the day.
“Absolutely not,” Tair snapped with a shake of her head for emphasis.
“We have to warn the town council about the Zynnashan attacks,” Myst replied tersely.
“I don’t have to warn them about anything!” Tair shouted. “Not after the way they treated me, the way they just assumed I was guilty!”
Myst grew silent, allowing Tair to calm herself. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said finally. “I can go with Laridiya and convince the council to take these people in and warn them of what is coming. You can stay here and help protect these children until we return.”
Tair looked over at the kids, some of whom were now watching the argument the newcomers were having. Tair looked at their dirty faces, their tired eyes lined with fear and sorrow. She had been like that once; she had been one of them. And, once again, it was Myst who came to the re
scue.
“They will arrest you the moment you step through the gates,” Tair told her, “Elder’s daughter, or not.”
“I have no choice, Tair,” Myst sighed. “My family still lives there and the Bend can defend itself if I can warn them.”
Tair remained silent.
“I will approach father on your behalf and tell him you were wrongly accused.”
“You tried that, remember? He won’t believe you,” Tair scoffed. “You were the one who broke me out and ran away with me.”
Myst laid a comforting hand upon Tair’s shoulder. “And I don’t regret it,” she smiled. “Not one moment. You are my friend and I would do it over again.”
The shorter woman snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’ll go with you,” Tair said. “Only to see the look on the Elder’s faces when you return home with a wanted criminal, a group of refugees, and a story about Zyn Beasts attacking villages.”
Myst felt her stomach twist in a knot as she pictured her homecoming.
“My father will not be pleased.”
7
Sajiix stepped from the shadows, exulting in the power that coursed through him. He leaned upon a familiar wall, allowing the huge amount of energy needed for traveling such a distance to subside. He suddenly felt drained, his muscles as useless as soggy grain, his mind unfocused and scattered. Using the shadowpath to move from one level of the Amethyst Tower to another was nothing compared to traveling to the opposite side of the continent. It was quite a useful tool and a power that only the strongest of the Amethyst and Onyx Magi could master.
In order to use the shadowpath, a Magi or priest had to visualize the destination. Without it, one could not complete the portal. Sajiix had been using the back room of the Dragon’s Tale Inn for years. The establishment was once a popular meeting locale for Magi and adventurers alike and it made a perfect focal point for Sajiix when he needed to travel to the city of Kaalmoore.
Although his mind was deeply taxed, Sajiix sensed immediately that something was amiss. The moment he would step out of the arcane portal, Sajiix would always use the wall nearby to steady himself, all the while taking in the scents of roasted mutton, woodberry wine, and pomyl leaf. A warm, welcoming glow of lantern and hearth light would outline the heavy curtain that marked the entry to the back storage area of the taproom. The hum of conversation and heavy laughter would always be prominent.
It was too dark and it was too quiet – even for such an early time in the morning.
Sajiix took a deep breath and slowly regained control of his focus and his body. When he felt ready, he parted the curtain ahead of him very slowly.
The inn was empty.
The taproom was not only devoid of patrons, but the room was also free of any tables or chairs. The two stained glass windows that once held an impressive design of a red dragon spewing fire upon hapless heroes had thick planks of wood nailed against them. The pewter goblets and crystal glasses that once lined the back of the bar were gone, as well. The massive hearth to his left was not only dark and cold, but it had been swept clean. The long mahogany bar, however, had a thin trail of dust upon it.
Sajiix clapped his hands free of the grit and sighed heavily. The Dragon’s Tale Inn had once been a rather popular place for libations and frivolity. Sajiix, himself, had enjoyed many a rowdy night here. The Magi felt surprisingly melancholy over the closing of the establishment. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of his past, Sajiix walked to the curved door and tested the brass latch. It was locked, of course.
Sajiix cursed softly. He could easily manipulate the lock with his magic, but the shadowpath journey had drained him considerably. He would have to force his way out. The Knights of Kaalé – the lawmen of Kaalmoore – would not look kindly upon his act of vandalism, but once explained, they would allow him to move on his way. Sajiix always thought the knights were an uppity bunch of soldiers concerned only with upholding the King’s Law with balanced justice. The Magi gave them credit – they were fair, but just annoyingly so.
Sajiix moved through the back of the taproom, finding the familiar back door he and his friends had so often used during the peak of their popularity. The Shadow Goddess smiled in his favor. The former owner of the inn had found it necessary to replace the old sticky latch with a simple sliding bar for security. For a brief moment, Sajiix recalled Donner Hanlin, the proud owner of the Dragon’s Tale Inn during his time in Kaalé. A light smile touched the Magi’s lips as he remembered the little man sampling his own wares and performing his songs for the busy crowds. Donner’s service was unparalleled to any inn Sajiix had frequented before and since. When the little musician decided to sell the inn and travel the winding roads of Vasalius, it was the end of an era.
Sajiix clenched his teeth and released an irritated breath. This was why he hated coming to this city – too many ghosts of happier times past. With a quick jerk, Sajiix slid the thick beam to the side and walked into the grey light of dawn.
Shutting the door behind him, Sajiix examined the alley behind the inn. The morning sun was smothered by a thick blanket of storm clouds that were pressing in from the west (the same storm he experienced the night before). The inn sat close to one of the protective walls of the capital city, allowing for a narrow walkway alongside the very high and very thick stone curtain. A number of other businesses also lined the alley, their rear views not nearly as clean or welcoming as their front visage. To his right, Sajiix noticed a wiry, white-haired man sitting on a crate and sanding a large barrel. The moment the Magi made eye contact, the man stopped his work, stood, and marched straight through the door of his shop without a word.
Ignoring him, Sajiix turned left and followed the alley until he reached the front of the building. From here, Sajiix was able to view the famed Kaalé Marketplace. Various stalls and buildings surrounded a large open square where stood two large fountains of stone. Atop each fountain were statues that stood with the height of two men. One was of King Torquewell (King Jalled’s grandfather) and the other was of Sir Devast – King Torquewell’s Master Knight. Both were in the usual heroic pose with water spurting from the King’s outstretched hand and the Master Knight’s upraised sword. Blue and white patterned flagstones encircled the ornate fountains with green patches of grass inlaid in an aesthetic pattern pleasing to the eye.
The marketplace vendors surrounded the small park like a protective fence. The wooden stalls varied in size, shape and color; bright ribbons of blue fluttered in the morning breeze; and colorful sheets of thin fabric were erected to shade those perusing the wide variety of goods offered. Food vendors were already loading carts filled with sugar-glazed treats from the local bakeries, while farmers from the outlying lands displayed their early harvest items. Some of the more garishly painted stalls offered exotic items from far distant lands and others sold merchandise from local surroundings. Jewelry, clothing, tools, and weapons – nearly everything could be found here.
An even larger ring surrounded the marketplace. Consisting of permanent structures, these one, two, and sometimes three storied buildings made up the defining framework of the market area. These were the businesses that represented the elite merchants of Kaalé. If one wanted a simple dagger, the center stalls were adequate, but if one wanted a finely tempered blade with Bornosian steel, then Adjhele’s Point was the place to go. Some of the shops had been within the market since the early days of the city, their place within the Merchants Guild fairly anchored – as well as within the trade council. All of these buildings were constructed of steelstone and the finest lumber west of the Tebis’non River. They were maintained, cared for, and impressive. Sajiix often wondered if the greedy merchants would charge a fee for staring too long at their buildings.
Cheerful greetings echoed from stall to stall, encompassing the entire square with the buzz of a typical morning in the Kaalé Market. Shoppers were out early, examining the sellers’ wares, having risen well before dawn to find what they needed or wanted. Sajiix could only see a h
andful, but he knew that soon the morning buyers would flood the square, making it nearly impossible to walk at a brisk pace. It was for this reason that he moved swiftly across the courtyard, ignoring the pointed looks many gave him.
It took him a few minutes to realize that the looks were not ones of curious awe. They were muted looks of anger, mingled with whispers of disgust. Kaalé is known to many Magi as a ‘priest parish’ – a place where the population supported the divine far more than the arcane. Yet, even with this mindset, the city had always welcomed the Magi, even if it were with a tentative air. Sajiix had not set foot in the city for five years. Surely such enmity could not have grown in such a short time? Apparently, it had, for Sajiix could see no other Magi as he reached the center of the marketplace. Granted, it was just after dawn, but even a few would usually be seen shopping the stalls by now.
Sajiix maintained his pace, neither slowing nor quickening. He also kept his arms and hands within the folds of his warm cloak, keeping his foci at the ready. It would only entice the crowd if he showed concern or anger. Not that he was overly concerned. Let them mumble their discontent. If they attempted any sort of mob action, he would give them a permanent reason to dislike the Magi.
Sajiix reached the opposite end of the marketplace without incident, although the dark looks continued as he passed. He walked between the established buildings of a tinker merchant and a woman’s tailoring shop and arrived at what was known as Center Road – a gray cobblestone street that stretched the breadth of Kaalé. It was the main thoroughfare of the city, starting from the heavily fortified main gate on the west wall, along the north end of the ramshackle homes that marked the living area of the common folk, through the sprawling neighborhood of white-washed walls and tiled roofs of the merchant middle-class houses, and continued on and between the majestic Temple of Diathanos and Borgam Keep. The grand thoroughfare graced the north side of the marketplace and down to the small eastern gate that led to the busy harbor district. The road ran straight through the city, never curving, never turning. It was maintained with immaculate precision; no missing stones, no rising bumps, even the white iron gas lamps that lined the street in specific distances were kept pristine and in constant working order.
Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1) Page 7