Valverna

by A Clarkson

  Magnus looked around the room that they had been attempting to sort through, with a small smile curling his lip. Ira poked her tongue out at him, which earned her a slight chuckle.

  Rubbing a hand through her hair, Ira asked in a more sombre tone, “So what happens now?”

  “Now we try to figure out what they were looking for.” He paused his perusal of the room to look at her, “I think we need to head into the Blue Desert to visit the Pimento Compound.”

  Ira nodded as they turned to leave the wreckage that had been her home. Only days ago her life in Valverna seemed boring and mundane, and Ira had been restless and unhappy, wishing for something different. Well, be careful what you wish for, she thought.

  Ira’s life here was gone. With Bill and Clarisse gone too, she didn’t even know if she wanted to be in this city.

  Magnus stopped Ira in her tracks by sliding an arm swiftly around her from behind. “Full disclosure,” he whispered into her ear in a voice that had Ira’s spine tingling, “I quite like the dainty underthings.”

  He then smoothly withdrew his arm and slid out the door in front of her. Leaving Ira feeling a mix of flustered and turned on, but no longer depressed over the destruction of her life.

  Chapter 12

  The Compound

  Ira had never left the city. She had been out into the woods and hills surrounding Valverna to hunt, but she had never followed the road beyond the valley.

  She had been surprised at first to see the poor state of the villages. There were a few small settlements located inside the valley, where some of the farmers who tended the rybrum fields lived. She visited these once or twice while hunting, to water her horse, or refill her canteens. The homes in these towns were beautiful small cottages with gardens filled with thriving vegetable patches. These villagers were strong and healthy, with well fed livestock grazing on nearby slopes. Some of the homes owned horses, others bicycles.

  They were hardworking people who, although they were by no means wealthy, lived comfortably in the shadow of Valverna.

  Ira always assumed that those who dwelled beyond the valley were the same. She had been wrong.

  Her ignorance became clear the moment they entered the narrow canyon that marked the edge of the valley.

  Ira spent the leisurely journey down the river on the deck of the boat, rather than staying cooped up in the rooms below. The river barge would take them as far as Drisden, a small settlement a few hours down river, where they would rent horses to make the remainder of the journey to John Pimento’s home.

  Ira watched idly as the lush fields of rybrum passed on the riverbanks beside the boat, followed by the barren land beyond that once held such hope for a better future. As the barge neared the end of the valley, the terrain became harsher, grassy slopes giving way to sheer cliffs that exposed the ochre stone beneath. At the edge of the valley, the river looped in a wide bend before entering the canyon proper. Sheer walls of rock, no longer softened by the lush fields, loomed dramatically thousands of feet above the blue river that wove beneath them.

  Ira gazed up in wonder as she saw that these cliffs were not the dead landscape they appeared at first glance, but rather the walls were teaming with life. Dark holes peppered the cliffs hundreds of feet above the barge in a seemingly random pattern. On closer inspection, Ira realised they were the opening to a series of caves that hummed with activity as people moved in and around them. The caves were connected by a complicated network of ropes and ladders that crisscrossed the canyon walls above the river, providing a means for those living in the caves to both traverse the pass, and descend to the water’s edge.

  As the boat weaved through the waters below, villagers high above shouted down greetings and well wishes. Ira realized with amazement that the men around her were smiling and waving, greeting some of the children running on the ropes above by name.

  Magnus’ squad hadn’t all joined their journey. Ira’s personal bodyguard Margo had been one of the few to stay back, Magnus believing Ira would be perfectly safe surrounded by a crew of fifteen men for the majority of the trip. The team wore easy smiles the moment they entered the canyon, as though they could breathe more easily now they exited the valley. That sense of always being poised for an ambush that Ira noticed the very first time she saw them, seemed to have faded with every passing mile they moved from Valverna.

  The shift surprised Ira. Everyone in Valverna always warned of the dangers beyond the safety of the valley. Nobody had enough power to control the roads between the kingdoms anymore, and thieves found travelling parties to be profitable targets. Travellers Ira met at Flor’s often shared terrible tales of highwaymen and bandits attacking them on the road. Magnus’ men seemed to feel safer beyond the safety of the city’s walls, and Ira wondered if that was because they were the biggest predators in these deep waters.

  The barge slowed, and Ira saw they were approaching a small suspended platform that hung from the nearby rope bridges. A few children gathered there to meet them, and quickly snatched the ropes the crew tossed their way.

  Rhys leapt off the boat, landing gracefully on the small platform, a move Ira would never have believed possible for such a large man. He smiled broadly and ruffled the hair on some of the children’s heads, before swinging a small boy up in his arms.

  “That’s his little brother Jackson.” A deep voice said softly beside Ira.

  She turned to glare at Magnus for sneaking up on her, and he simply smirked in return. Arrogant prick.

  Looking back at the happy reunion, Ira asked in wonder, “He lived here?” It was hard to imagine how the giant Rhys ever fit in those small caverns or balanced on these ropes.

  Magnus laughed at Ira’s bewildered expression as he moved to join Lee at the cargo hatch. “He wasn’t always that big.”

  Seeing them open the hatch Ira asked, “Are you peddling your magical wares?”

  Hauling out a bag of fruit and vegetables Magnus said with a laugh, “Magical potatoes maybe. Come give us a hand.”

  At Magnus’ invitation Lee gave her leg a quick scan before nodding and handing her a bag of onions.

  “I have to admit I didn’t expect you guys to be vegetable salesmen.”

  “We only trade vegetables with the canyon dwellers. These people have no money, and they can’t grow anything because the canyon is in the shadows for too much of the day. So we bring them vegetables whenever we pass.”

  Ira glanced back at the children gathered on the suspended dock. The children were painfully thin, clothes hanging off them like sacks draped on barren trees. Ira would have been amazed that those skinny arms could carry this food, but she knew only too well the strength that could be housed in even the weakest looking frame.

  Ira couldn't help the suspicious crawling in the back of her mind, how much did she really know of these men, were they good people? Were they taking advantage of these villagers?

  “What do they trade with you?” Ira did her best to hide the slight edge that entered her voice.

  “Weapons.” Lee said in his thick accent, grinning at Ira’s surprise. “That knife you swiped from the General came from here.” He nodded toward the canyon walls surrounding them. “The villagers find them buried in the caves, relics of some long lost civilization.”

  Well that certainly wasn't what she expected.

  The canyon people had been the first of a series of poor communities the barge passed. Ira stared in shock at the terrible living conditions of those mere hours from the world's most advanced city. Had the technology, the wealth, all the progress of Valverna, spread so little beyond its own walls that even villages situated on its primary trading route suffered so greatly?

  Vegetables were only brought out for those dwelling in the canyon, but the barge stopped another half dozen times before they landed in Drisden. Ira helped the men hand out everything from medicines, to cloth, to small pieces of hardware.

  In return, the villagers would present Magnus with a salvaged piece of trea
sure, many of which Ira didn’t recognise. She couldn’t understand the trades. In some cases it appeared as though Magnus was buying a priceless artifact in exchange for a bag of clothes, while in others, his men seemed to trade valuable medicines for nothing more than a piece of junk.

  At their penultimate stop Magnus hand delivered a small black bag filled with papers and books to a young boy around the age of six. The boy gave Magnus the largest smile Ira had ever seen, eyes sparkling and white teeth shining out of a dirt-covered face, before handing over a brooch adorned with a dark green stone with black flecks.

  Ira was desperate to ask Magnus about it, but any conversation was waylaid by the crew springing into action as the boat pulled into their final destination.

  Drisden was a trading post that had slowly turned into a town as the sea of canvas tents and wagons transformed into brick and mortar stores. The small city was now one of the best equipped ports in the world, with all manner of goods and services available for the travellers with a pocket full of gold. It was also the most hectic. The lack of town planning led to a nonsensical design with streets that started and ended abruptly, resulting in a chaotic mess that took hours to navigate.

  Waiting on the docks as they pulled in was a short woman with curly chestnut brown hair and a splash of freckles across her rounded cheeks. Chelsea Brooks looked exactly as Ira remembered from the posters and news reports five years ago when she lobbied for the expansion of the rybrum fields.

  With a dazzling smile at Magnus, Chelsea intercepted them as they descended from the barge.

  “Gary let me know you would be riding out this afternoon, so I thought I would tag along!” With a wink in Ira’s direction she added, “I hadn’t realised the escort would be so handsome.”

  Ira’s stomach clenched at the flirtatious grin Chelsea threw toward Magnus, but did her best to look unaffected as she joked, “Careful, I’m not sure a horse will be able to carry both him and his ego if you keep that up.”

  “I like you!” she said, holding a hand out to Ira, “Chelsea Brooks at your service.”

  Ira couldn’t help but smile in return, “I know. I don’t think you would find a person from Valverna who doesn’t know you. I’m Ira.”

  “It never hurts to be polite,” Chelsea said with a casual shrug before looping her arm through Ira’s. “Now, tell me about these handsome men you are travelling with as we go find some horses.’

  Magnus’ crew made quick work of docking and locating horses for their journey further inland through the Blue Desert. Although Valverna established a network of transport through rickshaw and barge, most of the continent still relied on good old fashioned horse power to get around, and any large town had at least one stable where animals were available for lease. Ira was given a well-mannered speckled mare named Sophie who walked calmly amongst the hectic Drisden streets, clearly accustomed to the chaos.

  Leaving Drisden they were quickly swallowed by miles of desert, the tumbleweeds and poorly nourished livestock the only movement on an otherwise dead landscape.

  Every few kilometres the modest clay homes of the local villages gave way to large walled-in properties that enclosed luxurious adobes surrounded by lush oases.

  Occasionally you could hear the sounds of laughter coming from those within the compound’s walls, and Ira supposed this would be a lovely place to live if you owned your own oasis filled with green vegetation and cool bathing pools.

  After their second stop to water the horses with water they carried from Drisden, Ira queried why they were not simply using a local well in one of the towns.

  “The water in the Blue Desert is all privately owned,” Magnus explained, passing her a canteen. “It has to be pulled from deep underground using expensive pumps.”

  Ira took a swig of the canteen before pouring a trickle down the back of her neck in the hopes of gaining a moment of relief from the hellish temperature. “So why do they call it the Blue Desert? It doesn’t look particularly blue to me.”

  “I believe that was a cruel joke by the wealthy pump owners,” Chelsea interrupted. “This place used to be an uninhabitable wasteland, but after the Drought, a giant cistern was discovered buried deep into the earth - just one of the many new treasures that appeared,” she added sarcastically. “Anyway, the region was renamed in honour of the whole ocean of water down there, simply too deep to access. After the rybrum was discovered, we had the technology to access the water, but for those who could afford it. Each of these compounds houses a pump. If you don’t own one, you need to buy water from someone who does to survive. Most of the residents out here simply don’t have the money, so they trade labour instead.”

  Ira nodded. The Citadel in Valverna offered a similar program for servants, allowing them to pay back the cost of food and housing through their work.

  Magnus scowled at the arid land surrounding the small tree they were sheltered beneath.

  “The problem is that the cost of water is so high, most can never work off their debts. The longer they stay working to pay off what they owe, the longer they live here and more water they need to buy. It’s a never ending cycle.”

  “Why don’t they leave?”

  “Most people can’t,” Chelsea explained. “They are indentured servants, owing the debts of their parents, as well as their own, to the compound owners. But even those who aren’t paying off a life of servitude likely simply couldn’t afford to leave. They own so little they have no way to start fresh anywhere else.”

  Ira considered this as they continued their trek further into the desert. How could people live out here? Raise their children to be bound to a life of servitude all for the price of a glass of water.

  Knowing John Pimento built his retirement home in the Blue Desert, where the poor served the rich in some kind of archaic serfdom, lessened her opinion of him. Perhaps his death had been a blessing to those he owned. Did the debts pass to another on the owner’s death? Was the murderer some kind of Robin Hood seeking to free the oppressed?

  No, Ira scolded herself. The murderer had killed Bill and Clarisse. Not to mention the Wick children. This was no vigilante seeking justice for the weak.

  ***

  A few hours later Ira stood beside Magnus in John Pimento's study and tomb.

  Gary turned out to be the compound’s manager and was a tall man in his forties, perhaps six foot two, with a lean build and sandy blond hair. He was a vivacious and boisterous fellow, who happily chatted away to Magnus and his men.

  Ira immediately felt several degrees cooler upon passing through the wooden gates that were the only things breaking up a large expanse of sandstone walls at the compound’s entrance. The leafy trees and calm pools inside chilled the air and stirred a soft breeze that set goosebumps across Ira’s skin. The sensation was soothing and very welcome.

  The compound was made up of a series of small clay adobes set in a semi-circle around a large central hub. Between the buildings lay a network of paths that were all well shaded by the leafy green canopy above. There were several pools scattered around the property, some deep enough to bathe, others simply cooling the air around them.

  Chelsea excused herself shortly after their arrival to greet some of the other residents. She was apparently a frequent collaborator of John’s who would regularly visit the compound and had developed close relationships with several of the families who lived here.

  Gary led their group into one of the largest adobes, explaining that this had been where John’s body was found. The space was broken into three areas, a traditional looking study, equipped with a large wooden desk and a small seating area; a library, stacked floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books in various languages and from various eras; and a lab that opened directly into a humidity controlled greenhouse. Gary explained that John was found a few weeks ago by one of the maids doing a routine morning clean of the office. It was not unusual for John to work late into the evenings, so after dinner, he had been left to work in peace, with his de
ath only being discovered several hours after the fact. Nobody had seen or heard anything unusual.

  From Gary’s explanation it sounded as though John died slowly from blood loss. His body was found sprawled on the floor of his office, cuts and bruises covering his body. They found no restraints holding him in place, and when Magnus explained the poison found in John’s blood work, Gary looked horrified and a bit green, before he quickly excused himself. Ira knew the feeling.

  The room had been cleaned and put to rights weeks ago, and offered little insight to Ira beyond what she could learn about John Pimento from his workspace. She explored the rooms and was overwhelmed by the range of technology John was working with. This had to be one of the best equipped labs in the world, and it was out here in the middle of nowhere.

  "How did he get in?" Ira asked absently as she felt Magnus enter the room.

  The walls into the compound were at least fifteen-feet tall, and made of a smooth stone that even someone as nimble and light footed as Ira would struggle to scale. Ira knew from their ride here that anyone approaching would have been easily visible to the two uniformed guards at the gate from at least a mile out, and Gary confirmed the gate was guarded round-the-clock. Unlike the other compounds, all the staff resided inside the walls, so there was not a staff change over when an intruder could have snuck in.

  “Assuming our murderer managed to sneak up on the compound at night without being seen by the guards, and managed to scale the walls in some shadowy corner, how did he get in here? The only entrance into this building is a keyed entry that Gary confirmed John changed regularly.” Ira turned back to look at Magnus. “So did our murderer simply waltz up and knock on the door?”

  “So John knew our murderer.”

  “Knew him, and didn’t think it was suspicious that he showed up unannounced after escaping the massacre at the lab?” She countered skeptically. “Surely John would have suspected Jeffrey if he just showed up out of the blue. So perhaps the murderer wasn’t obviously associated with the lab, and John didn’t think he was connected.”