The Ryle of Zentule

by Michael Green

  “Two Caspians. Whatever they say about Caspia, it is known to produce skilled fighters and quality equipment. The surfacers are useless, save the one who wields the Argument.”

  “We’re not useless!” Emma complained.

  “We’re pretty useless,” Dean replied.

  “We’ve been training,” Emma countered as she produced the wooden club. “Well, we trained once, but we plan on training every morning.”

  Blue stared at the club with a small grin. “Hopefully the Elazene can talk us out of any trouble we might run into.”

  I hope so too.

  Letty folded up the map and saw Emma pull a handful of protein bars from a backpack. “I don’t know what time it is, but I’m starting to get hungry,” she said, passing the bars around.

  As the hours passed, the countryside smoothed into plains, the hills disappearing into the distance. The trees gave way to tall, patchy shrubbery, which then thinned into grazelands dotted by the occasional farmstead. The ceiling, far above, had lost its chaotic flux of color and settled into an array of purples and reds, interlaced with bands of gold. The faintest trace of Amber raced off lanticward.

  Searching through one of her bags, Letty felt like she was being watched. She looked up and spotted an insect face peering over the side of the cart. Letty nearly shrieked as she reached for her Argument, Staza and Quill also noticed, but in their rush to arm themselves and stand, they all collided.

  “Hahahah!” The voice was small and female.

  “Petri! Leave them be!” Ahmet called from a cart further ahead.

  The girl pulled up her face mask and smiled at the group.

  “That’s not nice, little girl,” Emma said, rubbing a sore spot on the side of her head.

  She laughed again. “Put some clothes on, or you’ll wake the dead,” she said before leaping off the side of the cart and rushing to her father’s side.

  A short while later, they stopped to rest. Ahmet accepted help from Letty and Emma in unharnessing the brutons and grazing them, while the Caspians started a fire and took watch. Ahmet considered the sky carefully and then raised a banner over the lead cart. It featured a mauve field, crisscrossed by crimson and orange hearts.

  “For the locals,” he said, as Letty and her friends stared at the banner.

  Ahmet and Petri worked together to cook a few strips of meat and boil something akin to orange cabbage.

  The surfacers shared a look of concern as they were served that orange cabbage with chunks of unknown meat and vegetable. The Caspians only took moments to finish their dinners.

  Never squeamish, those two.

  “Usually, it falls to my guards to stay up and watch, but tonight I will share the duty, since we are so few,” Ahmet said, before deciding the order of watch. “I will lend the watcher my helm. Even if it is big, you must wear it, in case we are spotted. My armor will be too large, but the watcher will shroud themselves in a blanket. This should be enough for any patrols we might find here.”

  Letty cautiously accepted the first watch. She put the helmet on and draped the patchwork blanket over her shoulders before looking on from the head of the largest cart. She watched her friends unroll their bags and settle down in the hull, while the brutons nudged each other in a nearby rut. Ahmet and Petri enjoyed the privacy the covered carts afforded. Petri was pleased to have a cart all to herself.

  They had pulled off a fair distance from the road, but Letty could still see the main path, some ways through the brush. She looked at the bowl of water that Ahmet had placed at the head of the cart. Inside it was a smaller bowl with a tiny hole poked in the center. The hole allowed water in at a set rate. She was told that an hour would pass before the bowl clunked to the bottom. She was to sit out two clunks before her watch was over.

  Everything is so calm now.

  After her first hour was up, Letty stood to stretch and reset the bowl. She heard a rhythmic thumping in the distance. She spied something like a snake on legs, traveling down the main road. As it got closer, she realized it was an insect.

  A giant centipede?

  Letty felt her skin crawl as she palmed the Argument.

  Should I sound the alarm?

  The huge creature made little sound as it approached. She spotted riders wielding lances, topped with the same banner Ahmet had raised on his carts.

  The centipede halted, and a few riders considered their caravan.

  Letty was eager to call up the comfort of her blade, but she remembered Ahmet telling them to remain calm if approached.

  After a moment, the centipede lowered itself onto its knees and a pair of brutox leaped over the side. They walked through the brush and came upon the caravan. The brutons woke at the footsteps, but they didn’t bother getting up.

  They looked over the carts, casting a long glance her way. She felt suddenly hot inside the helmet and under the blanket, but she didn’t move.

  One brutox nudged the other and they moved off. A minute later they were back aboard the centipede and on their way.

  No one said anything about giant centipedes.

  Chapter 13

  Degoskirke

  Andy opened his eyes. The sky was crimson and motley. The motley colors melded and twisted among themselves, distinct from the crimson. Andy watched the sky dance and noticed a thin arc of mauve jut through the other colors with the force of lightning, before shattering into tiny pockets.

  He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was still asleep, and dreaming about a lava lamp.

  Sitting up, Andy realized he was on a mattress, which sat atop a square roof, lined with cracked tiles. He saw chains, bolted to the ground, but the shackles were lying at his sides. Red welts stood out on his wrists.

  Right, I’m a prisoner. But shouldn’t these shackles be on?

  Andy thought back to the last clear moment he could recall.

  I remember Thrag, and the ravager, and Ziesqe’s allies. They each arrived with a team of bodyguards. We made it to that city, Hyadoth, and then something happened.

  Andy looked at his robes for a clue, but, save their disorder, they were only familiar. He felt the obsidian jewelry still in place on his wrists, ankles, and neck, but there were no clues.

  I remember a helmet; that was important. But why?

  His head spun with unbelievable images, each poorly stitched together, like a preview for an action film. One upsetting recollection featured a stranger’s voice coming from his mouth. The voice, through his body, had been talking amiably to a towering, malformed ryle. Andy doubted the recollections, reasoning they were more likely to be dreams.

  Eager to be rid of them, Andy stood and stretched. His head throbbed, and his muscles were weak. Scared, he walked to the edge of the roof and leaned against the crumbling plaster wall.

  In every direction he saw crumbling city. Sprawling and half-ruined, the field of buildings looked like a rugged forest. Fires lit the occasional window, but most were dark or broken. The silence that accompanied the desolation made Andy’s skin crawl.

  What’s that?

  Deeper into the city he saw a misshapen wall, lined with equally ramshackle towers. Every span of the poorly made wall was unique from the rest. A mile of it looked to be of one design, with crenellations and blue square towers, where the next consisted of wooden stakes and a few round towers, plopped onto already present structures. The overall effect was shoddiness, and that effect grew as he viewed more of the city.

  Looking past the walls, Andy saw three spires that jutted so high, they reached the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes and traced the lines of the spires.

  They don’t end in a point; they reach the top.

  A sudden movement caught Andy’s attention. He spotted a brutox on a nearby building. It moved across its roof and leaned against a wall.

  Is it one of Ziesqe’s?

  It scanned the city, as if on guard. Andy crouched and, after careful minutes of watching, spied several brutox he hadn’t seen a moment ago.

 
There’s one in almost every building.

  He leaned over the wall and looked down onto streets littered with debris and wreckage.

  There!

  He saw a brutox crouched behind an overturned cart.

  Andy crept to the other side of the roof and looked down.

  A huge crater split through the middle of the street and a nearby mansion. The fissure pierced into the sewer below. And in the sewer, something large blocked the way. It was covered in tarpaulins.

  Andy stared and stared, until the tarpaulins swayed ever so slightly. There was movement beneath. A long, pointed leg shifted from underneath and was visible for a moment.

  It’s a ravager, kneeling, and covered up. They’re hiding it in the sewer.

  Surrounded, and unsure of where he was, Andy felt paralyzed.

  They’re everywhere, but I’m unshackled. This doesn’t make sense. Should I try to escape? Or is this a trick? It almost has to be.

  Andy crawled towards the rooftop doorway. He expected it to be locked, yet the handle turned. He opened it gently and then saw a slip of paper drift to the floor. It was a note.

  Andy felt suddenly exposed. He crouched against the wall and read the note.

  ‘I’ve freed you. Meet me in the nearby palace with the fountain. Go now, while the Masters are distracted!’

  Andy glanced at the empty shackles.

  You don’t have to tell me twice.

  He slipped through the door and onto the stairs, moving slowly, as the stairs threatened to creak under his weight.

  He descended three floors, and listened as the walls and floors nearby groaned, likely under the movement of armed brutox.

  A moment later he heard someone getting up too quickly from a chair.

  “She should be here!”

  I know that voice! It’s Ziesqe.

  “She’ll be here. Viqx has many faults, but traitorousness is not one of them.” Andy recognized Kal’s voice too.

  She is close to Ziesqe, and they’re talking about Viqx. She was red, with wings.

  “Of course, Viqx is too belligerent to be a traitor. It’s Veloiz! She might have given Viqx the slip.”

  “She’s a coward, Ziesqe,” Kal countered.

  “Yes, but she’s seen too much. If she goes to the Maelstrom, they might stop us before we enter the city.” Ziesqe sounded calm, though there was an edge to his voice.

  Using their conversation as cover, Andy slipped down a few more stairs. He peeked around the corner and saw Ziesqe and Kal, as well as Zava, and Inxa, the ychorons. The ryle wore shabby robes, while the ychorons dressed like paupers in rags.

  That’s nothing like them. What’s going on here?

  They had mismatched chairs and couches set up around a few rickety tables that had been pushed together. The tables held maps and pieces of kitchenware, which Andy suspected represented their forces.

  “There is good news: Another pair of ravagers arrived from one of your fiefdoms in the Nomarky. Though the creatures are the smaller savanna breed, they will be welcome. Another battalion of foragers and light infantry have come with them,” Kal said.

  A smaller breed. That might explain how they fit in the sewers.

  “And what strain are the foragers?” Ziesqe asked.

  “Locust, I believe. Their commander expressed interest in beginning immediate raids into the inner wreck. They believe that illicit commerce moves through those parts and into the old Niechenheim.”

  Ziesqe glowered at the maps. “These brutox are too eager. They do not understand the danger here.”

  “If they stay away from the queen’s district, the Locusts will be effective. We need the forage. As it stands, our force is too large to feed conventionally. We’re raising too many questions,” Kal replied.

  Inxa, orange and blue beneath her peasant’s clothes, stepped forward and moved pieces on the map. “In a related subject: We have just captured three outer bridges and cleared a few abandoned back-roads. This widens our supply line to the outer city, and will take some pressure off our foragers. We have the hands to occupy what the scouts are now calling, the mussel-shell route. Occupying it will ensure that supplies arriving from fiefs enter the city without drawing attention on the regular routes through the wreck.” Inxa spoke the last sentence quietly, looking away from Kal.

  “You think this new route will ensure us better supply than engaging the Locusts in their usual purpose?” Ziesqe asked.

  “Certainly, my lord. Foragers could supply us stolen provisions, though, not to contradict the Mistress, they will suffer attrition from contact with the local queens, who travel the whole city, not just their own district. There is risk of total catastrophe for our forces, if just one queen questions a captured forager.”

  Kal raised a brow before responding, “It is a fair point. I will concede that I know little of the city and the queens in particular. I never expected to be here.”

  Ziesqe nodded. “The city breeds a traitorousness that would hamstring any explicit invasion.” He looked over to his ychorons. “Even you, girls, the image of fidelity, would find your hearts torn if you wandered too deep.”

  Zava and Inxa shared horrified looks, “I would never,” “We will die for you, Master,” they spoke over each other.

  Andy’s eyes met Zava’s for a moment. He nearly gasped.

  She saw me!

  Zava remained silent while Inxa put a hand on the table and continued, “It is unnatural for the so-called, free ychorites, to live as they do. Despite that, I will obey. We will stay on this side of the wall, until the time comes.”

  Ziesqe fixed them with a blank expression for so long, the room became uncomfortable.

  He finally turned to Kal and spoke, “Detailed planning, at this stage, is pointless. We need to wait for Viqx and Veloiz, as much as it galls me.”

  Kal walked to his side of the table and laid down a pile of charts. “Let us then go over the standing orders, perhaps we can improve our position here in the wreck.”

  Ziesqe was frayed and unlike himself. Andy wondered if their plans were falling apart, and cracked a smile before continuing down the stairs, which ended one floor further down.

  I can try to sneak out since they’re distracted. Maybe Zava didn’t see me.

  Andy looked around a corner and saw a pair of guards by the large entryway.

  This must have been a mansion at one point.

  He went the other way, peeking around corners as he went, until he found an empty room that was once a greenhouse. The planters were overflowing with vines and silver-fleshed palms, which had ripped through the glass ceiling.

  Maybe I can climb out.

  Andy hopped into a planter and felt his robe tug on the vines. He grasped the palm and pulled himself up. When he reached the height of the ceiling, he spotted a door at the other end of the greenhouse, behind some tall reeds. The door looked like it led to the back garden.

  Really?

  Andy considered sliding back down.

  It’s probably locked anyway, he decided, and continued up the palm. He reached for the iron support that framed the glass panes and pulled himself up and onto it.

  The roof creaked. He held still, but a moment later it groaned ever so softly.

  This wasn’t the best idea.

  Andy shuffled closer to the house and grabbed onto a drainpipe, putting as much weight on it as he dared. He followed the pipe to the edge of the greenhouse and then down. As he inched down the pipe, he had a sudden thought.

  Does it rain down here in the Netherscape? It must, if they bother with drainpipes.

  A moment later, the pipe creaked. Andy froze.

  He cringed, expecting the fixture to tear free from the wall and send him plummeting to the ground.

  When nothing happened, Andy dared to look down, and saw the ground barely a foot away.

  Embarrassed, he released the pipe.

  I’m in a backyard, a regular old backyard.

  The sense of familiarity was uncan
ny. He kept low, moving through the overgrown plants and was about to climb a wall when he heard footsteps. He shrunk down and listened.

  Brutox in the streets.

  A minute later, they had come and gone, and no alarm had gone up from the mansion.

  They don’t check up on me that often. Andy hoped that whoever reported his absence to Ziesqe wouldn’t end up executed. Putting that aside, he thought, I must find the palace with the fountain.

  Andy hopped over the wall. The flagstone street was littered with the crumbling remains of buildings, broken down carts, scorched roadblocks, improvised weapons, and swirling pieces of paper.

  I’ll check the buildings nearby. Hopefully I can keep out of sight.

  Andy crossed the street, pausing at the sight of a long dagger embedded in a charred barrier. Feeling exposed, he rushed to it and pulled on it as hard as he could. The barrier crumbled into pieces, releasing the dagger. Without thinking, Andy took the dagger’s blade between his teeth and clambered over the wall into the next yard. He landed softly on turf and looked around. He was in a splendid rose garden that featured a large fountain at its center and a gazebo off to the side.

  What luck!

  Crouching behind a shrub, and with a dagger between his teeth, Andy felt like a pirate.

  This is ridiculous, he thought, taking the dagger in one hand.

  Andy crept to the fountain, put the dagger on the stones, and ran his hands through the cool water.

  He cupped his palms and took a sniff. It seemed fresh.

  He sipped, and then gulped down more. He drank his fill and washed his face, using his robes as a towel. Refreshed, he wondered if he should wait, or hunt for a yard with some fruit trees and return here later.

  Andy took the dagger, walked over to the wall that separated this yard from the next, and was about to climb over when he heard a door creak.

  He bent low and turned to look.

  Zava?

  The verdant ychoron stepped out of the mansion and into the garden.

  “Lysander?” She called softly. “I know you’re back here.”

  She was silent for a moment.

  She did see me. That or these bracelets give me away, he thought, looking at the obsidian bracelet on his wrist.