A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods

by Daniel Hylton

  Brenyn nodded. “More precious than my own life,” he told her.

  Her eyes went soft and she inclined her head. “Then I pray heaven’s grace goes with you, young man.”

  “Thank you, madam,” Brenyn replied, and he turned Noris and went back up the valley toward the crossroads.

  17.

  When he gained the crossroads once more, Brenyn looked west but then pivoted toward the east. Captain Grizeo had once told him that the darkings were first seen in the eastern regions of the world. If so, then the east was their matrix. Had the darkings that had taken Emi gone back to the place that produced them?

  While he hesitated, gazing first west and then back toward the east, Brenyn noticed something odd about the configuration of the ancient pavement that crossed under the hooves of his mount. To the north, west, and south, the roads went out from the junction in simple lines, like the mean tangent lines of a giant “X”.

  But upon the eastern side of the crossing, the corners of the junction – where that roadway went out from the “X” – were filled in with triangular areas of pavement, creating a sort of arrowhead pattern upon that side of the junction, as if the traveler was meant to consider that direction as somehow being more important that the other three. It was like an arrow, pointing east.

  Did that way lead to some vital destination? – toward more populated regions, perhaps? Or had the ancient engineers simply neglected to fill in the other corners of the crossing? Brenyn could not know the answer; still, after considering for another moment, he followed the arrow and went eastward, toward the mountains.

  The road began to curve gradually around toward the north as it navigated the head of the valley containing Marta’s market. To Brenyn’s left, the landscape sloped gently up toward the forested, rocky heights of the plateau. On either side of the roadway, the ground was rocky, cut by ravines, with patches of brush and grass everywhere. Streams bounded down from the heights, passing beneath the road under stone bridges of superb construction and ancient quality on their way toward the valley below.

  Eventually, he came to where the river that ran through the valley off to his right had carved a canyon back into the shoulders of the plateau. A magnificent stone bridge arched over that stream, which flowed and frothed a hundred feet below him.

  Beyond the bridge, the road went straight, on an eastward tangent, toward the distant gap in the mountains. This was wild, uninhabited country, and before the end of that day, Brenyn began to doubt his decision to go east. No one was about. There were no farms, no villages, and the few buildings he passed were all in ruins, though not, evidently, because of war. None were burned, nor had they been razed; but seemed to have tumbled in upon themselves from neglect and beneath the crush of unimaginable time.

  Overhead, the cloud cover thickened and lowered, and the gloom of the day, as it waned away, added to the heaviness and sense of foreboding that had gathered in Brenyn’s breast since he had first arrived at the crossroads. A chill wind that smelled of the possibility of rain gusted down the slopes. The sun, declining down the western sky, did not show itself again that afternoon.

  Still, Brenyn hastened eastward.

  Sunset came, unseen but apparent as the daylight failed, and Brenyn, now several leagues from the crossroads, had found no sign of people or civilization. The mountains in the east appeared to have come no nearer. As uncertainty mounted in his mind and heart because of the desolate, abandoned nature of the landscape through which he traveled, Brenyn moved off the road near where a small rivulet tumbled down from the plateau above and removed the saddle from Noris and picketed the horse to graze upon the bits of scattered grass while he gathered sticks for a fire.

  Had he chosen wrongly again? Were the darkings – and Emi – even now moving farther away toward the west?

  The night fell and cold came with it. Brenyn watched his fire burn down with some concern, for the chill wind had altered its course and now rushed up the slopes from the valley below with renewed vigor amid the falling temperatures. To escape the cold, he moved to the leeward side of a rock. There were a few dry sticks scattered about here, so he scooped some coals with his dagger and moved them to the new place and kindled another small fire. Still, the night deepened, the chill intensified. Eventually, sometime in the small hours, the fire burned out.

  Miserable, he was glad when the sky above the peaks to the east at last brightened with the advent of day. When it grew light enough to see, he gathered more sticks in the twilight and kindled another fire to drive the chill from his bones and flesh.

  While the sky brightened toward dawn, Brenyn considered the question of whether he should continue toward the east along the ancient road or turn back. There had been no sign of human habitation anywhere along this route the previous afternoon.

  But did the presence or absence of humans bear upon which direction the darkings would have taken? He did not know.

  Once more, despite the pain it caused him, he forced himself to ponder the possible reasons that the darking lord had taken Emi. The only reason that seemed sound to him, based upon his limited knowledge, was that she was intended as a reward to some human prince that in some way had gained the darking lord’s gratitude.

  But, in the end, he could not be certain of his reasoning, for he knew nothing of the magical, wicked species known as darkings.

  What were the darkings? He wondered.

  Were they partly – or even mostly – human, themselves?

  If so, could the darking lord have wanted Emi for himself?

  That thought sickened him, but he made himself examine it, nonetheless. The more he considered that possibility, however, the more he doubted its veracity. Captain Grizeo had described them as “creatures”; Marta had also employed that depiction of them.

  Everyone that he had ever heard speak of darkings thought of them as something other than human, despite their resemblance to humans in physiognomy. Why else, he thought, would they wear masks? What sort of face was hidden behind those white cloths?

  Something other than a human face, probably.

  Discarding the thought that the darking lord had taken her for himself, therefore, Brenyn returned to the idea that Emi had been taken as a prize for some human prince somewhere. And if that was indeed the truth of it, then he was likely wasting precious time, going any further eastward into uninhabited wilderness.

  Still, despite these ruminations, when the sun rose and he saddled Noris and had mounted up and once again gained the road, Brenyn sat and stared toward the east for a time. But though he looked long, he could make out not one thing in that direction that suggested human presence.

  Down in the valley below and back to his right, every one of those distant dwelling places, every house, sent a tendril of smoke skyward in the chill beginning of the new day – but no smoke arose anywhere to his front, between him and the mountains. There was only endless roadway and unknown earth between him and the distant gray peaks with a discernable gap where the road, many leagues ahead, passed through to yet another unknown region.

  Brenyn realized, with a sinking of his heart, that, should the darkings have come this way, they would be many leagues, many days travel ahead of him, diminishing almost to none the chances he would ever catch them up. And without any human presence to verify that they had traveled this road, he might journey forever in the wrong direction. For if they had not gone eastward and he continued, any small chance that remained of saving Emi was lost.

  He sat upon Noris, paralyzed with indecision, while the sun cleared the distant peaks and began to climb the sky.

  At last, unwilling to waste more time, Brenyn turned Noris about and headed back to the crossroads. It was after mid-day when he returned to the junction where the two roads intersected each other. Without hesitation, he went through the crossroads, toward the west, and down around the curve in the road and into another shallow valley that lay between the plateau upon the east, beyond which lay the valley where Marta maintain
ed her market, and an extension of the forested heights upon his right.

  Here, also, in this small, narrow vale, there were few farms, none near the road, and no villages. To the front, however, the road gradually descended toward broad plains that stretched away to the south toward the most distant horizon, and to the west, going out of view below the extension of the plateau. And down there, he could make out the patchwork pattern of cultivated ground.

  There were people there.

  Now, if only those people could tell him where the darkings had gone. He urged Noris into a quicker pace, descending toward the lower ground. As he lost altitude, the plateau began to veer away to his right, and the valley opened out onto the broad plain.

  A small stream, not quite large enough to be named a river, tumbled out of a cleft in the verge of the plateau and became his traveling companion as he descended the roadway, frothing over rocks and small waterfalls as it made its way toward the lowlands.

  Eventually, as it angled toward the west, the plateau on his right softened its edges and devolved into a range of forested hills that sloped toward the plain. The plain spread away toward the south and the west for as far as he could see, unbroken, to the most distant horizon. And there were many people here.

  Abruptly, Brenyn’s eye focused upon one area of the distant landscape.

  Smoke rose up there. A lot of smoke.

  This smoke did not arise from households warding off the chill of the day, for it was concentrated, thick, and dark. Brenyn knew instinctively that it was smoke from the fires of war. And further off, far away in the south across that vast plain, gray haze smudged the horizon. In at least two places.

  War, apparently, raged everywhere.

  Ceaseless, unending, and widespread.

  And very likely, Emi had been borne into this broad region of conflict. At least, so long as she was in the care of the darking lord, she could not be harmed. If possible, therefore, he must find her before her circumstances were altered. Once she was no longer in the possession of the darking, her life would undoubtedly be at risk, for there seemed to be naught but war and ruin here, in the south of the world.

  The road began to level out as it neared the flat land. Brenyn urged Noris into a canter.

  Toward evening, he entered a region of farms. Here, at least, there was no evidence of the ravages of war. The houses all stood undamaged and farmers were at work in their fields. A mile to the west, there were structures of a sizeable village clustered along the roadway.

  And there were people about in that village.

  Brenyn slowed as he came alongside a tavern, whose tables and chairs sat upon the walkway next to the road. Two older men sat at one of the tables. Brenyn halted and addressed them.

  “What is this place?” He asked.

  The men turned and examined him quietly with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

  The man on the right, a stout man with gray hair and a full beard, looked over his weaponry and nodded, his gaze hard and knowing. “You a mercenary, lad?”

  “No,” Brenyn replied. “I am not a mercenary. I am seeking two darkings that may have traveled along this road – a lord with his servant driving a cart. I followed them out of the north – and I need to discover them quickly.”

  This genuinely astonished both men.

  “You are chasing darkings, lad?” This came from the other man, a tall, thin man whose beard rivalled that of his companion.

  Brenyn nodded. “I am. They took something from me. Did they come this way? – do you know?”

  The stout man frowned up at him. “Are you a sorcerer?”

  Brenyn returned his frown. “No.”

  The man shook his head. “Then you better pray you don’t catch them, lad. If you do, it will be death for you.”

  “It matters not,” Brenyn replied. “I must catch them up. Did they come this way?”

  Both men shook their heads. The man on the right replied and his reply caused Brenyn’s heart to sink. “There have been no darkings upon this road for some time – at least none that I know about. Nor has there been rumor of any coming here. But then, we are a bit out of the way here – on the edge of things, you know.”

  “What is the name of this land?” Brenyn asked.

  “You are in the village of Tinzen, in the land of Juritzia.” The man answered.

  “You have seen no darkings?” Brenyn persisted.

  “No.”

  “Do you sit by this road often?”

  The man nodded. “This is my tavern. And I would have seen them. Unless they came by at night, and no one saw them or heard them; they did not pass this way.”

  “Do darkings indeed travel by night?” Brenyn wondered.

  The man shrugged. “Who knows what those evil creatures do – they are not human. I doubt they sleep. For all the wickedness that they do in the world, there is no time for sleeping.”

  Brenyn’s spirits lifted slightly. “Then they may have passed by here during the night.”

  “It is possible,” the man agreed, “but, thankfully, we don’t see many darkings here in Tinzen – none in a year or more.”

  Brenyn shook his head. “We had never seen a darking in my land, either, until they came and took something very precious.”

  “That is what they do best,” the thin man agreed. “They steal goodness away and leave death and evil behind them. From whence do you hail?” He asked.

  “I come from Vicundium, in the north,” Brenyn replied.

  The man frowned. “I’ve not heard of that land.”

  Brenyn nodded. “It is unlikely that you would have heard of it, for it is a small land, and further ‘out of the way’ than this place. Nor had we seen any darkings there until four years gone when a black darking came. Then, near the end of winter, the darking lord came with another that drove a cart and they took… something.”

  “Well, I have seen none hereabout lately, for at least a year or more,” the stout man stated.

  “Nor have I,” his gaunt companion agreed. “And let us hope it remains so, eh?”

  The stout man nodded emphatically. “Let us hope those vile creatures and their wars stay beyond our horizons.”

  “Well, we are small,” the thin man said, “unworthy, perhaps, of their warmongering. I pray we never see another.”

  With these statements causing his hope to gutter at the edge of extinction, Brenyn asked them, “Who knows of these darking creatures? With whom may I speak that has knowledge of them?”

  The thin man glanced at his companion and then answered. “Mercenaries know more than anyone, I suppose, for they travel far and wide and fight in the causes of many princes. They are both bad and good men, fierce men – they fight for money. If you want to know as much as can be known of the darkings, find a mercenary band.” He glanced once more over Brenyn’s weaponry. “They will likely want you to join with them, though. Indeed, from what I hear of them, they may insist upon it.”

  Brenyn’s hope sputtered to life once more. “Mercenaries know about darkings?”

  “As much as can be known,” the stout man answered.

  Brenyn lifted his gaze and looked west. “I saw smoke on the horizon this morning,” he said. “Is Juritzia at war?”

  The stout man shook his head. “Not at the moment, but who knows how long peace can remain?” He shook his head again. “No, the smoke you saw likely arises from either Thayn or Braddia. The princes of those two lands have been trying to destroy each other for years now – ignoring us, fortunately.”

  The man watched Brenyn, whose gaze was fixed west and narrowed in thought. Then, as if he could read Brenyn’s thoughts, he shook his head once more. “You can’t go that way, lad, not to the west. The borders of both Thayn and Braddia are closed. The guards will slay anyone that approaches those frontiers without asking for either your name or your business.”

  “How far away is the border?” Brenyn asked.

  “Three leagues, maybe less,” the man replied. “As I said
– Juritzia is a small land, unimportant. It may be all that saves us.”

  Brenyn met the man’s gaze. “But mercenaries can tell me of the darkings?”

  “What can be known,” the man responded, and he shrugged. “And that is little.”

  Brenyn thought of the mercenary “town” and its captain, of which the woman, Marta, had told him. In that moment, desperate, he decided upon a new scheme to discover where Emi might have been taken. He turned Noris about, nodding his gratitude.

  “Thank you,” he told the men.

  “Be careful, lad; the world is dangerous.”

  Brenyn gave no reply to this but simply urged Noris into a canter as he went back to the east and toward the crossroads. The sun was setting behind him when he left the plains, turned north, and entered the valley below the escarpment that delineated the high plateau. Night caught him there. Recalling the chill wind that had tormented him upon the plateau, he gathered plenty of wood and kindled a fire next to a large boulder, feeding the flames as the night deepened.

  Once more, sleep eluded him; as the darkness fell, it brought despair with it and filled up the chambers of his heart.

  Would he ever find Emi?

  Doubt, black and vicious in its irresistibility, overwhelmed him, rendered even more terrible by the chill darkness of the night that gathered about him.

  When he had set out, he had thought to catch the darkings up within a day or two, defeat them somehow, and free his beloved, returning her home to Vicundium. Instead, he found himself many leagues from home, with the trail dried up, and the hope of finding her reduced to a vain and desolated thing. Where she had been taken – east, west, or south – he did not – and could not – know.

  The world was large and filled with dangers, and he and Emi were both lost in it.

  That night was worse than any that had preceded it. Brenyn did not sleep but paced restlessly while he kept the fire burning, even as the tiny flame of hope guttered in his breast.

  Before dawn, he had saddled Noris and was climbing up the curve in the road toward the crossroads. He reached the junction two hours later and immediately turned southward, down the road that led into the broad valley. He passed by Marta’s market about mid-day. She was sitting out in front and lifted a hand to him as he went by. Brenyn nodded his head but did not halt.