The Year of the Red Door
Volume 1
The Bellringer
Volume 2
The Nature of a Curse
Volume 3
A Distant Light
Volume 4
The Dreamwalker
Volume 5
To Touch a Dream
The Year of the Red Door
Volume 2
The Nature of a Curse
"For whosoever discovers the Name of the King
so shall he become King."
Copyright Page
The Nature of a Curse
Volume 2 of The Year of the Red Door
Second Edition
ISBN: 978-1-944320-46-1
Smashwords Distribution
Copyright © 2017
by William Timothy Murray
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permissions, review copies, or other inquiries, write to:
Penflight Books
P.O Box 857
125 Avery Street
Winterville, Georgia 30683-9998
USA
[email protected]
Be sure to visit:
www.TheYearOfTheRedDoor.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
pfbrev18/1
Publisher's Note
This electronic version of the Second Edition comes with significant enhancements over previous versions. In addition to minor corrections within the text itself, there is also included a glossary at the end of this book. Besides definitions, the glossary also contains links to maps that are also included within this book. The maps themselves have been revised and have coordinates to help you easily find items referenced in the glossary.
Depending on your particular reading device, smartphone, or reading app, you may be able to zoom or enlarge the maps included. If that is not possible with your device, links are provided to the website (www.TheYearOfTheRedDoor.com) where you can view the maps on your browser.
We have provided the glossary and the maps at the suggestion of our readers, all of whom we sincerely thank. And we hope that all readers, old and new, will make use of and enjoy this enhanced edition.
Penflight Books
Preface
Welcome to The Year of the Red Door. For those of you who are curious, I invite you to visit the accompanying web site,
www.TheYearOfTheRedDoor.com.
There you will find maps and other materials pertaining to the story and to the world in which the story takes place.
The road to publishing The Year of the Red Door has been an adventure, with the usual ups and downs and rough spots that any author may encounter. The bumps and jostles were considerably smoothed by the patient toil of my editors who were, I'm sure, often frustrated by a cantankerous and difficult client. Nonetheless, I have upon occasion made use of their advice, which was sometimes delivered via bold strokes, underlines, exclamation points, and a few rather cutting remarks handwritten across the pristine pages of my manuscripts. Therefore, any errors that you encounter are due entirely to my own negligence or else a puckish disregard of good advice.
For those of you who might be a bit put off by the scope and epic length of this story, I beg your indulgence and can only offer in my defense a paraphrase of Pascal (or Twain, depending on your preference):
I did not have time to write a short story, so I wrote a long one instead.
The Author
To
Albert and Billie
Prologue
The White Dragon
Dalvenpar Tallin, Robby and Ullin's uncle, was killed in the Dragonlands years before Ullin was even born. He died during a shoddy retreat from what proved a disastrous invasion of the desert lands. Crying "Remember Tulith Attis!" the attackers managed to sack and pillage the Green Citadel, one of the chief cities of the northern desert provinces. Although the invading forces would be defeated and ultimately repelled, few lessons would be learned from either side, and history would repeat itself in but a few years.
However, six weeks after the useless death of Dalvenpar Tallin and so many others, a group of seven mysterious riders moved along the final stretch of dusty track toward Kajarahn, the Free City in the northwestern desert. They were mysterious because they were dressed in black robes and coverings, such as assassins of the city sometimes wore, and they rode under no banner or standard. The guards of the city saw them while they were still far off, wavering in the heat, and they examined them carefully with their spyglasses. They were not renegades, clearly, since they rode handsome horses and were all dressed alike. No, not renegades, but it was unusual, and risky, not to ride under some banner, for without the protection of a powerful or influential house, few travelers stood much of a chance within the city, unless of course, they had plenty of gold for bribes. Indeed, soon enough, each guard held several coins of Dragonkind gold, and their captain a double amount, and the visiting riders were permitted to enter. They knew their way, and rode on through the bazaar and past the fine palace of the ruling lord of the city. They continued on beyond the gardens and baths and rode into the district of the town where merchants lived. They entered a small courtyard, and as the clatter of horse-hooves bounced from the surrounding walls, the owner of the house, seeing them from a window, hurried his wife and his young son into hiding. He then girded a sword and rushed out with many of his servants to challenge the arrivals. The son broke away from his mother, picked up his own small sword, and ran to join his father. The merchant glowered at the boy, but it was too late to send him back in, and he turned his attention to his unexpected visitors. The lead rider dismounted, approached, and bowed low.
"Peace," said the dusty stranger, loosening the coverings from around his face.
"I hope it is in peace that you come," said the merchant, bowing curtly. "Pray, who are you? And why do you disturb my home's tranquility?"
"Forgive us, good sir," said the stranger, bowing again, "but we come at our master's bidding. You may call me Tareef. Are you not Emal the Merchant?"
"I am. And is your master so low that you dare not ride with his standard?" asked the merchant sharply, eyeing the stranger and the others who came with him. His keen eye did not miss much, not the bearing of the strangers before him, the make of their saddles, the cut of their robes and light armor, nor the workmanship of their sword-hilts or even the stitching on the stranger's gloved hand. He saw clearly that these were no ordinary men since, for Dragonkind soldiers, they were fine of frame and had little sign of the desert sickness. Only a powerful master could provide the darakal elixir in such amounts to make his servants so strong. He also noted that a long bundled object, perhaps seven feet long, was strapped to the side of one of the horses. Tareef sensed the merchant's assessment, and he seemed oddly at ease with it.
"I assure you that we are here on peaceful business," he said to Emal, "but it is such that our master must keep to himself, as much as may be possible, as you may soon understand. He, our master, says that Emal of Kajarahn is a shrewd merchant and a wise trader. Furthermore, he says that Emal is an honest man who lives not in the way of so many of this city, but is proud to have his fortunes rest with his own acumen
and skill rather than upon swindles and lying."
Emal's eyes narrowed. His son stepped up.
"The flattery and praise of strangers has no merit but is to soften the cheat which follows!" the boy declared defiantly.
"Radasa!" Emal said harshly, pushing the boy back. "Know your place to speak when spoken to! I beg you forgive my son's outburst. I fear he listens to the sayings of his father too much, but has not yet learned the wisdom of silence."
Tareef only grinned and looked from the boy back to the father.
"I bring a commission for transport," he said as he produced a small folded parchment and offered it to Emal. Emal studied it for a long moment, then squinted back at Tareef.
"What your master asks will be difficult to do without arousing many questions," he said. "And it is a long way to go and will require many bribes. The only roads north are closed to our kind since the great battle of Calamandor, so I must commission trustworthy northmen to carry out this task."
"My master quite understands the difficulties," said Tareef, gesturing to one of his comrades nearby. Immediately two saddlebags were brought. The stranger took one and removed from it a purse and handed it to Emal.
"There is here twenty such purses to defray your costs and to yield some profit to yourself and to those you deem trustworthy to undertake this commission."
Emal nodded as he looked inside the purse. Then Tareef handed him the saddlebag.
"As well, I am instructed to also give you this," he said, holding out the other, much lighter saddlebag to Emal. Emal gave Radasa the first saddlebag, so heavy that the boy had to hastily put away his sword so that he could hold the bag with both arms. Then Emal took the second saddlebag that was offered, undid the flap, and looked within. His expression went from puzzlement to surprise then to astonishment. Inside was enough refined darakal to supply his family with the precious life-saving elixir for two years at least. Emal quickly closed the flap and glanced around to be sure no one else nearby had seen its contents.
"A king's ransom," he said, gesturing at the bag his son held, but meaning the one he himself still clutched. "And the object to be transported and delivered?"
Tareef turned and gestured to his men. They quickly untied the long object from the horse, and two of them brought it forward, handling it with great care. It appeared to be a thin carpet, rolled and tied within a sheet of heavy linen. The two men placed it gently and ceremoniously on the ground before him. Then they bowed and backed away. Emal noted that they bowed to the object and not to him.
"I pray you deliver this on behalf of my master," said Tareef. "And that you see to it that his note is included with it."
Emal took the note and read it.
"I do not understand it," Emal said.
"It is not for you to understand," said Tareef. "Does my master have an accord with you for the transportation of this object to the destination that he stipulates?"
Tareef held out his hand. Emal slowly reached out and took it, holding it for a long moment, making sure of the sincerity in Tareef's eyes.
"It shall be the honor of my House to do so," he said at last, bowing. "Rest assured, it shall not be tampered with in any way, nor shall it be examined by anyone acting on behalf of this House."
At this, Tareef bowed very low, putting his hand to his breast. He looked at the boy, at Emal, then down at the long bundle on the ground before turning and climbing back into his saddle as his men did likewise. Just as he started to rein away, Emal stepped up.
"I hope," he said, not too loudly, "that all is well in Almedian."
For the first time, Tareef frowned.
"I do not know what you mean, sir."
Emal nodded and backed away. Tareef turned his horse around, then paused.
"But," he said to Emal, "should I pass that way, I shall relay your good wishes. Peace!"
And with that, the secretive riders rode away, disappearing from the courtyard and down the street.
"Father," asked Radasa, "who were those men? And what is this thing they wish you to send northward?"
Emal slung the light saddlebag over his shoulder, took the heavy one from his son, and said, "Take the other end of it, son, and we shall carry it in together."
"My lord," said one of the servants, stepping up, "allow us to carry this thing!"
"No. My son and I will see to it. You may dismiss everyone back to their work."
Emal and Radasa lifted the long object and carried it into the house, up the stairs, and into Emal's bedroom. Hearing them enter, Emal's wife emerged tentatively from her closet as the two were putting the object down on the floor. With a finger held up, Emal stopped her questions and turned to Radasa.
"My son, hear me. You are not to ask after this object again, nor may you ask after those men or who their master might be," Emal said.
"But, Father—"
"Listen to me!" Emal said gently. "Only you and your mother are of greater worth than this object. But if any surmise what this thing is, or that you might know who this comes from, or where it is bound for, they will do cruel things to you and to your mother to make you tell all that you know. Even friends of this House would do so, I fear! By taking this commission, I place our House in great danger for the rest of its days, and all its servants likewise, long past the end of my own life. So I must keep it a secret from you and from your mother, insomuch as I can. And I will say this, too: I marked those men correctly, and I would do this for their lord merely for the asking, and I would consider my purse brimming with the pride of doing so. Count yourself blessed if ever you should have such esteem for another!"
"Father," said the son, "I know where Almedian is. And who lives there."
"Ah." Emal, distressed, glanced at his wife. "I see you have been at your maps. Very well, then. Let your lips be sealed!"
• • •
It was three weeks later that Emal completed the arrangements. The long object was carefully rolled into yet another carpet and sent northward in a shipment of goods bound for Vanara. Indeed, only goods from Kajarahn could make it out of the desert and into the north, unless they were goods taken as spoils of war, for Kajarahn was far from the centers of power, and its status as a Free City meant that trade could take place between its merchants and any they chose to deal with, be they Dragonkind, Man, or Elifaen, as long as payment was had and tribute was given. So it was a large, well-armed party of Men who departed Kajarahn with the long bundle that Emal sent north, Men who were paid well to defend their goods from renegades and Dragonkind soldiers alike, and who would also defend their goods from the Elifaen should they attack the train in the mountains. Their arms were put to use, too, for hardly had the train entered the foothills than they were attacked by renegades. But Emal's men were zealous in their duty and determined in the defense of their goods, and they beat back the robbers easily. An early snow made their way treacherous, so it was another month before the company made it through the mountains to Ladentree, in the western reaches of Vanara. In Ladentree, Emal's representative and long-time trading partner took charge of the goods, disposing of them according to Emal's careful and well-paid-for instructions. Thus the bundle from Emal, seemingly an ordinary carpet, was crated and sent eastward to the icy River Strayborn, and then by boat down to the River Iridelin where the crate was loaded onto a southbound barge destined for Altoria.
It remained in the Altorian port city of Draymoor for two months until it departed within the hold of the Selkie, a Glarethian merchantman. The ship made the passage to Solsorna, in Masurthia Realm, in good time, and was shortly afterwards back at sea, laden with trade goods and manned by a crew that was eager to see their families once again in far away Glareth by the Sea. Winter storms battered the Selkie, forcing it into Forlandis of Tracia Realm for almost two weeks. A few days after departure, the ship was again almost lost when it was nearly driven into the rocks of Grisland Strait by a sudden violent squall and was only saved by its quick-thinking captain, who ordered a bow anchor
dropped, which spun the Selkie into the wind and permitted its crew time to reef its sails. The squall passed, the ship safely cleared those treacherous waters, and the crew made good sail with fair winds so that the heavily laden ship lumbered easily northward. Two weeks after departing Forlandis, the Selkie docked at Colleton on the coast of the Old Eastlands Realm. By now it had been over five months since the contents of the crate began its journey.
In Colleton, the crate and much of the cargo in the ship's hold were unloaded and stored in a warehouse along with many other goods to await the passing of winter and early spring rains so that the roads might be better for transport wagons. Eventually, the roads cleared of snow and ice, and spring mud dried away. So it was early summer before the crate was uncovered within the warehouse and then consigned, along with many other goods, to a wagoneer for transport overland. Thus the crate slowly bounced and jogged across the Old Eastlands countryside, passing through one town or village and the next. The wagoneer stopped at virtually each and every hamlet to barter and to trade, and the long crate at the bottom of his wagon was shifted around, shoved over, covered and uncovered by various sacks, boxes, and bundles as he went. The season passed by as he traded and negotiated his way westward, driving through broad croplands and teeming woods and camping under starlight when no inn or barn was near. At last, in early autumn, the wagoneer came to the Saerdulin River. Crossing over by way of a ferry, he made his way up the Old South Road along the river and turned west again before reaching Passdale to carry the battered and travel-bruised crate on the final leg of its journey. He thus arrived in Tallinvale almost a year to the day after its contents were delivered to Emal in Kajarahn.
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