The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  ‘The Volni slaves could have raised the alarm, for surely they would be beaten and perhaps killed once it was found out that one had escaped, but none did. As one, they smiled as I left.

  ‘It took me months to find my way back to the surface. To survive, I was forced to drink water from stagnant pools and feast on scuttling creatures that a rat might turn up his nose at. By the time I reached fresh clean air, I was a pale imitation of who I once was.’ Nikka smirked at his own joke.

  ‘Still, I learned more than stone-working and survival when I was beneath the earth. I learned that for all our differences, the Cerni and Volni are too similar for my liking - bitter and cruel, inflicting as much damage upon themselves as they do on each other.

  ‘And so, I found that there was no place for me in my former home. I had no desire to live in that festering city. More than just my distaste for my own kind drove me from my home though. A plague grows within the city – the dwarves grow old from within and yet do not expire. They forgo food, sleep, shelter; even death is denied to them. The Sleepless they are called among my people. I had seen this curse among the Volni whilst I was held by them, but I thought it was brought on by a life in the dark recesses of the world. When I had returned to my people, and found it had taken hold among them, I feared -’

  Nikka’s voice trailed off as if he felt that speaking the words aloud would confirm his guilt. Regaining his courage, he took a breath and resumed, ‘I feared that I had brought the curse down upon my own people when I returned. But I learned that it began before I had been captured. So great was my lust for battle and blood, that I had been completely ignorant.’

  ‘The humans call the victims of this curse “The Damned”,’ Faric stated.

  Nikka rubbed his face with both his hands, as if the Lyrat had confirmed his worst fears. When Nikka dropped his hands to his side, he sat still with his eyes closed for a moment.

  ‘I built myself this place so I can rest and hunt and find peace, but the world denies me still,’ he continued, with a sharp look at the travelling companions. After a moment, he relented and a weary frown cut across his ebony-skinned forehead. ‘Get a night’s rest. Tomorrow we can decide a course for you.’ Nikka rose and gestured his guests to their bedrolls.

  12 - Out of Exile

  Wist woke to anxious voices drifting in from the mouth of the cave. The words were indistinct in the cool, fresh darkness and he thought that Faric had risen early to discuss with Nikka what their next move should be, where they might begin their search. When he sat up, he found the Lyrat sitting on his own bedding, listening. Faric lifted a hand to halt his questions, and so Wist sat trying to make out anything that was being said between Nikka and the newcomer.

  Eliscius.

  Could that be him? Had he found them? Excitement and anxiety battled in him, but Wist forced himself to remain still. He examined Faric for a sign that he had overheard the same thing, but without a fire to see by, he could only just make out the Lyrat’s face.

  Faric rose to stand in front of his bedroll in a single flowing motion. Wist attempted to emulate the Lyrat’s elegant movements without success. Then they waited for Nikka to bring the stranger in, Faric - motionless, Wist - restless.

  The tall, slim man figure that followed Nikka in was hidden in shadow. He was taller than any of them, but he lacked the tense muscularity of the Lyrat or the granite solidity of the Cerni. His long, dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, which lay on narrow shoulders. As the man moved into the room, Wist caught a glimpse of his face. A widow’s peak, arching eyebrows and withered jawline framed his severe face. His olive skin had a darkened overtone to it, as if he had achieved the colour through exposure to the sun, rather than it being his natural skin tone.

  This was not Eliscius. Had they been deceived after all?

  ‘Faric -’ Wist began, but Faric ignored him.

  ‘This one says that he is here for you,’ Nikka gestured to the stranger, although the expression on his face betrayed his doubts. Nikka held his position near the entrance to the main room, letting the newcomer stride confidently on. The air crackled with the quiet tension between them. A frown settled on the stranger’s mien as he took them in.

  ‘Where are the others?’ he asked brusquely. ‘I was told to expect four: Wist, two Lyrats and a Masheshi girl.’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Wist. ‘You’re -, you’re not who I was expecting.’

  The man raised a pointed eyebrow, ‘Really?’

  An uneasy silence descended upon the room. Wist looked to his companions and then back to this man. His dark robes, which had appeared plain, had arcane symbols and patterns woven within their structure. He seemed to glow with potential, but unlike Faric, it did not emanate from a physical strength or an innate grace.

  Wist felt as though he was again being weighed and measured, as they stood in the quiet gloom. ‘Who are you,’ he repeated, growing impatient with the scrutiny of the stranger, ‘and what do you want?’

  The man took a further second to assess him before he spoke. ‘I am Dregan. As for what I want, that – it would seem – is of limited importance. Eliscius requested that I locate you. From here, I am to guide you to him. Now where are the others?’

  Wist bristled at the stranger’s taciturn tone, but the mention of his mentor stole his anger. ‘Aviti was swept into the Corb on our journey here and got carried downstream. Tyla went to retrieve her. I wanted to go and get her myself -’

  ‘They will be able to follow us,’ interrupted Faric.

  ‘Of course,’ said Dregan, his azure eyes glinting with interest, ‘the Lyrat Pair. I have heard tales of the prowess of such a partnership.

  ‘Still,’ he continued, ‘Eliscius was quite specific in his request. I am to return to him as soon as I have located you. Make your preparations and we shall leave.’

  The intruder turned and walked out into the daylight, without waiting to hear a reply. Wist exhaled the breath he was holding. ‘What now?’ Wist said, mainly to Faric - but he made no effort to exclude Nikka from his question.

  ‘I have no answers for you,’ the Lyrat replied. ‘We have cast our lot in with yours, but what paths are open to us? It would boot nothing to remain here. We must accompany this man.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Nikka with ominous grin. ‘I think you have outstayed your welcome here. And I would speak to this Eliscius.’

  ‘You’re coming with us?’ asked Wist.

  ‘If that is agreeable with both of you?’ Nikka looked between them.

  Faric acceded to the request with a shallow nod of his head and Wist shrugged. The Cerni’s imperfect presence reassured him in a way that Faric’s never had.

  As they gathered their belongings, Nikka made his own preparations, moving around his home, gathering the essentials for his journey. When Wist asked him why he had selected so many items, the Cerni had replied that you could never be too prepared for a journey, no matter how short the path appears to be.

  Faric set their packs down alongside the horses. He released the rope tethering them and brought them both to him. Then he lowered his head between the two beasts and held the pose for a dozen heartbeats. If there were any words spoken by the Lyrat, Wist was unable to hear them. Faric lifted his face and stroked each of the horses in turn, running his hands across the nose of each one, allowing it to take in his scent. Afterwards, Faric led them out to the open air of the mountainside and set them free.

  Wist protested at their loss, but Faric told him that he had sent them to find their companions.

  ‘The horses would not be any use anyway,’ said Nikka. ‘From here onwards they would likely slow us down. The mountains are no place for a horse; no place for a human either.’ Nikka grinned wickedly as he lifted his pack and moved out into the fresh new day. As he passed Wist, he winked once.

  The four companions moved out from Nikka’s home and within moments, it was gone from sight, along with the horses that had careered away down the mountain, unfettered and free
.

  Once again, Wist dwelt on the periphery of the group. Nikka moved over the treacherous terrain with a grace that defied his stocky build, his feet finding solid ground in amongst the dense shale and rubble that littered the mountainside. Dregan glided across the terrain; his long flowing black robes masked his footsteps. Not once did he stumble or have to readjust his balance, he simply moved where he needed to go, one step at a time. And Faric…Wist was not surprised to learn that the Lyrat was as comfortable on the mountain as he had been on the desert. Only Wist found himself constantly catching his balance. Every time he thought he had become accustomed to the land, his legs went from under him leaving him in an undignified heap. And when he picked himself up, he would hear Nikka’s light chuckle, but unlike Faric’s chiding, Nikka’s mirth brought a smile to his own lips, despite his wounded pride.

  They made their way around the mountain, remaining in the shade of its enormity. Nikka had provided some heavier travelling cloaks to keep them warm. After so many days crossing the desert, the cool of the hills had been a massive relief. But now that had turned to a deeper chill, and without the sun to warm them, Wist could feel the cold start to penetrate him. He beat his arms around himself to fight back the chill.

  ‘Feeling the bite, Son?’ asked Nikka.

  ‘It’s just taking me a while to become accustomed to the change,’ he replied. ‘And just how old are you? - Son indeed.’

  ‘I could not say for definite,’ Nikka grinned back at him. ‘This is certainly my third century. Mind you, old Jarri lived to see four centuries and more. It is said that he remembered this rending of the land. So I think I have some living left in my bones yet – Son.’

  Nikka continued to smile as they walked. It took Wist several moments before he had the courage to ask his next question.

  ‘You said you were a – a mercenary,’ he said, still unable to hide the distaste he felt for the word. ‘What was that like?’

  The smile fell from Nikka’s lips. ‘What would you like to hear? About the blood I have spilled? Or perhaps you would know of the fortunes I have wasted?’ Wist stared blankly at the Cerni. ‘I have squandered enough wealth to buy myself a small kingdom, or even to stop a larger one from tearing itself apart. Whoring, drinking, gambling – I even wasted some of it.’ Nikka’s solemn expression slipped for a moment.

  ‘I once killed a thief who stole from me,’ he said, his voice loaded with sudden self-loathing. ‘In truth, the coin itself was of no value to me; it was the power and respect it commanded that I wanted. And how I wallowed in my own self-importance for several lifetimes of a man. Not until my imprisonment did I see the futility of my life. You would think that a race as long-lived as mine would be able to detach themselves from the petty bickering that blights the shorter-lived races, but I suspect we spend our lives refining such base actions to artistic depths.

  ‘How great a relief it was to have my day defined by the amount of rock I could break or shape, meld or rend. When I was captive, my existence depended on following their law for, if I transgressed, it was not only I who suffered. My troupe would not eat that day if the crime was minor, longer if the masters desired it. This dependency did not come easily to me for all of my petty life had I operated alone. Trust is hard to earn amongst my kind, and hardest of all to one whom had sold his soul for guilt.

  ‘But that was not the question you asked. You wanted to hear the salacious details of a life lived on the edge of chaos and control. Ah, but I would never claim that there was no pleasure to be found in decadence. Still, it is a miasmal pleasure and never does it satisfy. I am sure a man of the world, such as yourself, does not need to hear such self-flagellation. Perhaps you have tales to rival my depravity?’ Nikka waited for Wist to join in, but after he failed to speak, the Cerni continued.

  ‘No? Well, you surprise me Wist,’ chuckled Nikka. ‘You are good-looking, if a little rough round the edges. You ought to enjoy your time.’

  ‘You contradict yourself with every word,’ Wist countered, trying to enter the spirit of the light banter. ‘With one hand you berate yourself for a life wasted and on the other you castigate me for failing to indulge myself.’

  ‘Ah, but does not the beauty of life reside within the implausible balance of frugality and extravagance? There is a perfect symmetry in contradiction.’

  ‘You are very thoughtful, for a man who spent his days killing.’ Wist regretted the words as soon as they were spoken them, but he could not call them back.

  Quick anger rolled in Nikka’s glare, but it passed on like a fleeting storm cloud. ‘You may wish to walk a few more miles in those shoes before passing judgement, Son.’

  In an effort to keep the conversation going, Wist asked, ‘Do you know where we are going?’

  Nikka adjusted the straps on his pack, moving the large hammer he bore on his shoulder to rest at an easier angle for his short stride. ‘I have no knowledge where we are being led, only that it should not take long to reach. In truth, I had not expected to head out across the rougher side of the mountain. There is little to be found here but narrow ridges and unattainable heights.’

  Wist looked back from their destination to where the horses had thundered away. How long would it take them to reach Aviti and Tyla? What could have befallen them? He hoped that Faric’s link with his Pair would alert them if something had gone awry, but standing on the slopes of Rathou, he could appreciate the futility of his worry.

  ‘Thinking of your companions?’ asked Nikka.

  ‘No, I was -.’ Wist’s denial sounded as hollow as he felt.

  ‘Nothing to be ashamed of – compassion,’ the dwarf said. ‘I do not think I have seen enough of that in my time.’

  ‘You talk a lot for a hermit,’ said Wist sharply.

  Nikka laughed once more. This time there was no anger in the gentle laughter. ‘Ah yes, as I have said, my life is one very long contradiction: an incompatibility. While I was a prisoner in the deep dark, I learned to talk, to open myself and tell everything. Every dark horrid detail of my life I spilled upon the obsidian impenetrability of the Underland. Not that any of the Volni could comprehend me. I spent a while trying to teach one of them my tongue. Unfortunately, his utterances were as incomprehensible to me as mine were to him. Our languages should have shared some commonality, but where my speech was soft and flowing, theirs was broken and vicious: another little enigma in my endless pile of puzzles.

  ‘Aye, so I learned to talk. I confessed all of my spoiled soul’s blackest deeds to those ghostly people. Maybe they did the same, for they spoke almost as much as I did. And when I left that place behind, I left a little of my soul too. A charred and ugly piece; fitting that it should be discarded in so dark a hole. And so, I think you shall find, that I like to talk,’ grinned Nikka, ‘even when there is nobody left to listen.’

  Wist looked out over the small foothills and on to the rolling desert beyond. From this vantage point, their journey across the desert seemed a small achievement. The distance obscured the minutiae of the terrain, the obstacles and places of sanctuary that they had found. Even the small signs of life were hidden from here, leaving the desert as unapproachable as he had once perceived it.

  ‘It has a peculiar beauty to it, does it not?’ asked Nikka.

  ‘A mind reader as well?’ Wist joked, this time tempering the tone of his voice.

  ‘You are not exactly a dice player, are you?’ retorted the Cerni. ‘I can read you more easily than the stone. I have sat here and watched the sun set out over the desert: wondered what it would be like to set foot on something that moved and responded to my footsteps; like trying to tame the world with my steps.’

  ‘I find it harder to walk up here in the mountains,’ Wist said, as he clumsily readjusted his balance to stop the grey rocks slipping out from under him. ‘What do you make of Dregan?’

  Nikka answered with a vague look of puzzlement on his dark brows. Wist looked away to the back of Dregan’s cloak as he glided along effortle
ssly beside Faric.

  ‘He doesn’t seem keen on being used as a messenger,’ Wist said. ‘I wouldn’t say he was hostile, but he certainly wasn’t very open.’

  ‘A very unusual messenger,’ commented Nikka, ‘if that is what he is.’

  ‘He seems -’ Wist said, struggling to articulate his disquiet, ‘- powerful.’

  ‘Aye, I would wager that he is mage,’ said Nikka softly.

  ‘A Mage? A Magician?’ asked Wist.

  Nikka looked to Wist, arching an eyebrow in query. ‘You truly do not want to accuse a Mage of being a lowly Magician. To do so is to compare a melder of stone with a mason. No, it is worse. It is to equate a king’s courtesan with a street whore. One plays in politics and pulling the strings of power, the other is used at the whim of the lowliest wretch. A true mage can use anything as his base material – stone, sand – even the very air you breathe and reconstruct its very nature, bend it to his own will. Aye, you were right I fear, when you labelled him powerful,’ said Nikka with a doleful nod. ‘For your own sake - do not call him a magician.’

  Nikka stopped on the trail, catching Wist by the arm, ‘Something is amiss.’ Wist tensed, prepared for attack. ‘No, I do not fear assault. The hill, it is not as it should be.’ Nikka pointed to a large abutment ahead on the path. The dark grey of the overhanging rock appeared impassable.

  ‘Has he led us to trap?’ Wist hissed to Nikka, but the Cerni was not listening. He was watching Dregan approaching the rock face. Faric strode alongside him, as if unaware that they would need to stop.

  With a single rotation of his right hand, Dregan removed the illusion covering the entrance to a well-lit cavern. Wist gasped as he saw the truth. This was their objective, the place to which Dregan had been leading them.