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

by Daniel Hylton

  “We all are,” Jed answered. “Everyone here is a member of Murlet’s band.” Then he glanced around thoughtfully. “I heard the captain tell you that we don’t help lost souls here,” he said quietly, “but the truth is that most of us are lost souls. Everyone here has a reason to be here.”

  “What’s your reason?” Brenyn asked. “Why are you here?”

  “I am from a land called Braddia,” Jed replied. “The prince of that land – he names himself a king, King Dened – went to war with the land of Thayn, to the south and west. I joined the army.”

  He paused to sip his drink and shook his head in sorrow.

  “Our home was near the border with Thayn,” Jed went on, “to the west of the Nampan Highlands, near unto the sea. The folk thereabout are intermingled, and many of the bloodlines cross the border between the two lands. While I was fighting in the east, our prince, King Dened, decided that none of the people within a league of the frontier could be trusted, even though many of the lads from that region, like me, fought in his legions.”

  He paused once more to partake of his drink, and this time he drew in a deep draught. Then he wiped the foam from his mouth and gazed forlornly at the back wall. “The whole of my family was slaughtered – by men from Braddia, my supposed comrades – even my sister, who was but three years of age.”

  He heaved a sigh. “When I learned of this great evil that was done to my own blood, my greatest desire was to go into the palace and slay Dened myself.”

  Jed tipped up his drink, scowled, and shook his head. “Such a thing was impossible, of course, so I abandoned my post and my company and came here, to the wilderness, and eventually met up with Captain Murlet and joined his band.”

  Brenyn looked at him and indicated the booth. “Were you tested as well?”

  Jed nodded. “Oh, aye, everyone is tested, you know.” Then he shook his head. “Though I did not pass the test in quite the same manner as you.”

  He considered Brenyn then. “Why are you here?”

  Brenyn decided to be truthful. “I was in love with a beautiful woman. Her name was Emi and she was a princess – but even so, despite her high station, she agreed to marry me. One day, before we could marry, a darking lord came with a servant and took her away. I chased them from my homeland to the land of Paladia and thence to the crossroads at the head of this valley.” He shook his head. “But by then I was many days, even weeks, behind them, and I know not which road they took – from that crossroads or any other. A man told me that mercenaries know much about darkings, so I came here, hoping to join and perhaps learn how I can find her.”

  Jed, while he grimaced in sympathy, nonetheless shook his head and glanced around the room, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell the captain this story,” he warned Brenyn. “Captain Murlet doesn’t like anyone to have a motive for joining other than money.”

  Brenyn considered this and then he nodded. “Alright,” he agreed quietly.

  But then he asked Jed, “What do you know of the darkings? Do you know whence they arise?”

  “I only know that they are very wicked and very powerful,” Jed replied, “and that war, ruin, and death follow them. They prey upon the weak-minded, greedy princes and convince them to go to war with their neighbors.”

  “Why?” Brenyn wondered. “What do they profit from war between the lands?”

  Jed glanced about once more and then answered quietly. “I heard the captain say one time that he thinks the darkings have a master, somewhere in the far east, a god, maybe, or a great and powerful wizard or something, and that he just wants the world of humans to burn and to suffer, for it gives him pleasure.”

  “And the darking lords?”

  Jed shook his head. “I have never seen a lord. There aren’t many, I think.” He frowned at Brenyn. “It was a lord that took your princess?”

  Brenyn nodded.

  Jed’s frown deepened. “Why would a lord seek out a human woman? – even if she were the most beautiful of all women. They cannot mate with human women, surely?” Abruptly, he grimaced at the insinuation of his own words. “Sorry, Brenyn.”

  Brenyn waved it away. “It’s alright, Jed – I have wondered the same, much anguish has it caused me.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “I suspect that he took her to give her to some prince as a sort of reward.”

  Jed frowned at him once more. “Do darking lords do such things?”

  “I do not know,” Brenyn admitted.

  Jed furrowed his brow as he considered it. Then, he shook his head again. “Lords are powerful, Brenyn,” he said. “They view human princes as but chattel, so I hear, mere puppets that they can manipulate to do their master’s bidding. I doubt they ever reward creatures they think so far beneath them.”

  Brenyn felt a great sadness pervade him. “Then why did the darking lord take Emi?” He wondered.

  “I am sorry, Brenyn,” was Jed’s only reply.

  19.

  Over the next several days, Brenyn and Jed became friends, bunking in the same house, and sharing the details of their former lives with one another. Jed rode a large, leggy roan mare that he had named Kuria after his sister that had been slain by the soldiers. In the daily drills that Captain Murlet insisted upon, Brenyn and Jed rode side by side in the mounted training, and Jed taught Brenyn the basics of swordplay.

  In the evenings, when the men gathered in the public house, Brenyn usually spent that time with Jed, but sometimes, as he got to know the others, he would quietly and in a manner that he hoped suggested nothing more than curiosity, ask about darkings. What he learned was usually nothing more than he had already heard from other sources, but the most curious – to Brenyn, terrifying – thing he discovered was that none had ever heard of a darking lord taking a human woman, for any purpose.

  Eventually, word got to Captain Murlet of Brenyn’s endless questioning. One evening, Murlet sought him out, and indicated a quiet booth. “Let’s talk,” he suggested.

  When they were seated, Murlet tipped up his tankard, drank deeply, and then looked across the table at Brenyn. “Tell me about your interest in darkings,” he said.

  Brenyn hesitated. “I apologize, captain.”

  Murlet fixed him with his sharp gaze. “For what?”

  “I was warned not to pursue the subject of darkings with the men,” Brenyn explained. “It won’t happen again.”

  To Brenyn’s surprise, Murlet smiled. “I tell the men to forget whatever thing it was that brought them here, to concentrate only upon earning our pay,” he said, “for it helps to keep them focused. But something brought us all to this place.”

  He glanced away for a moment and it seemed to Brenyn in that instant that a shadow darkened the captain’s gaze. “Something brought me to this place,” Murlet went on, “that yet matters to me. But that thing that made me choose this life cannot now be altered or remedied, and therefore is not to be dwelled upon, for regret and sadness can dull the senses and take the edge from a man’s wits.”

  He shook his head. “But it doesn’t mean that the something didn’t happen, or that it can ever be truly forgotten.” He leaned forward with his arms on the table and looked at Brenyn. “What is it that brought you here, Brenyn Vagus? Fear not, you have shown your worth and your willingness to work. So, tell me.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Brenyn told him the story of the taking of Emi and how he had tried to find her and rescue her, without success.

  When he had finished, Murlet sat in silence, frowning down upon the table. After some time, he shook his head. “I have never heard of a darking lord taking a human woman,” he said. He looked up. “Darking lords are seldom seen, and no one knows where it is they go when not abroad upon the earth. They are the masters of the darkings, and it is believed that each lord has as many as ten or perhaps twenty darkings under his command. Further –” He halted abruptly, frowning. “Did you say that a darking – a black darking – came to your town some years before the darking lord returned?”


  Brenyn nodded. “Four years earlier, a darking came.”

  Murlet nodded. “It is said that the lords – we call them red darkings – can see through the eyes of their servants, so, whatever a black darking sees, his lord sees as well.”

  Brenyn sucked in a sharp breath. “If that darking looked upon Emi…”

  Murlet nodded. “His lord would have seen her as well.” His frown returned. “But that alone does not explain why he came later and took her.”

  He tipped up his drink and furrowed his brows in thought. “Once,” he said, “long ago, I heard a tale of a darking lord taking an object of beauty away from those that possessed it.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t a living thing – it was a gilded statue of some sort of sea creature. Nonetheless, it was a thing of beauty, and the darking took it. I asked my father about it, and he said – I cannot verify, of course – that darking lords often took such things.”

  Brenyn’s heart compressed painfully inside his chest. “You think the darking lord took Emi simply because she is beautiful?” He dreaded tendering the next question but could not resist. “For what purpose?”

  Murlet shook his head. “Who can know, Brenyn? Certainly, I cannot. If, in fact, the darking lord took your princess for himself, then he took her for the same reason as the other took the golden statue – because she is a thing of beauty.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they are one and the same – he that took the statue and he that took Emi.”

  “Then where would he have taken her?” Brenyn wondered miserably.

  Murlet’s sharp gaze softened. “I do not know. I am sorry. No one knows where the darking lords dwell, Brenyn.” His brow furrowed once more. “Darkings appeared in the east, they say, long ago, and brought war and terror and death. Mostly, they prey upon the weaknesses of the tin crown princes that rule over the various lands.” He scowled in disgust. “It often takes very little to tempt those who have much to seek to take more from their neighbors.”

  But then his tone moderated. “Though, in the beginning, so it is said, some princes resisted the urging of the darkings to go to war with those that dwelled nearby – and the darkings simply slew them and replaced them with other, more malleable ‘princes’.”

  Brenyn asked the question yet again. “What do the darkings – and their lords – gain from all this war and destruction?”

  “I have often wondered,” Murlet confessed. “For it seems that they gain nothing – unless pleasure is derived merely from the chaos and slaughter that they engender. I do not know.” A frown came upon the captain’s features yet again. “We tell ourselves here that we dwell apart; that we do not partake of the madness, but, in the end, I suppose that we serve the purposes of the darkings as much as anyone, for we fight, and we kill.”

  He shook his head. “We avoid darkings, if at all possible, though the few that we have encountered showed scant interest in us and what we do.”

  “Whence do they arise, these wicked creatures?” Brenyn wondered. “In the east? Do they dwell in the east?”

  Murlet shrugged. “They appeared there first, so it is likely, I suppose, but I do not know.”

  Brenyn’s spirit darkened while his heart plummeted deep into despair. He thought of that lonely road that trended eastward from the crossroads, and went into wilderness, where no humans dwelled. Had he given up on that road too soon? Had the darking lord, in truth, taken that cold and dreary path toward the east? If so, Emi had by now gone far beyond his ability to rescue her.

  He slumped in his seat and put his head in his hands. “I will never find her again, will I?” It was an admission of sorrow as much as a question.

  Captain Murlet drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am sorry, Brenyn. Our world lies about us in ruin and is filled up with misery.” He sighed. “Your tale is unique,” he admitted, “but every man that is here is here because of great loss. I am sorry,” he said again.

  That night, after full darkness had come, Brenyn left the pub and went into the forested foothills that rose above the town and climbed to the top of a small rocky hill, where he could look out over the darkened valley. His soul was black and his spirit awash in grief as he stared into the gloom of the night.

  It was time for him to admit to a terrible truth.

  Emi, he knew now; beloved, beautiful, kind, and gentle Emi, was lost to him.

  Forever.

  He bowed his head and wept, long and bitterly.

  Then, he lifted his head and looked into the blackness once more, as he confronted yet another truth.

  Life, for him, could not now go on.

  He could exist, if he so chose, but he could not live.

  Two choices weighed in the balance before him.

  He could either choose to align himself with the mercenary band, and, whenever possible, seek vengeance upon the foul race of darkings.

  Or, he could draw his dagger and plunge it into his heart.

  The hours passed while he wrestled with the future and the question of whether he would inhabit it.

  In the end, it was a near thing.

  It was deep in the night when, at last, he chose vengeance.

  20.

  Over the next several weeks, while he trained with the band and learned to wield his sword, a profound change occurred within Brenyn’s soul. With the loss of any chance that he might someday regain Emi, hope died, and in its place something else was born. A great and implacable hatred for the race of darkings took root and grew in the place that hope had abandoned. And where once there had dwelled a sense of terrible urgency to find Emi and to save her, an odd sort of patience now flourished.

  He found that he was content to dwell with Murlet’s band of mercenaries, to learn their ways, contribute his part, and become an accomplished soldier. The future, for now, could wait.

  One evening, a tall slender man, dressed in fine dark robes, rode into town and up to the entrance to the tavern, and went into an upper room with Captain Murlet, Sergeant Kristo, and three others. Moments later, it was announced that the men could take the next day as a day of leisure – there would be no training.

  Brenyn looked over at Jed. “Why? – what now? Who is that man?”

  “That is Beran Hile. He is our legate. Hile was a lord of some sort, or maybe even a prince, once,” Jed explained. “When he shows up, it means we are about to get busy. And that’s good. Supplies are getting low, and spring is upon us.”

  Brenyn frowned. “What is a legate?”

  “He is a sort of ambassador for our band. He goes about the land meeting with the various princes. He’s in their same class, you know. When he shows up, it means some prince needs something protected, or transported, or he just needs some killing done.” Jed grinned. “If Captain Murlet likes the offer; then we go to work, so we’d best see to our mounts and our weaponry.”

  Taking that advice to heart, Brenyn went to the stables and examined Noris very carefully, checking the horse’s shoes and his general health. Then he went to the armory, took his weapons to his room and looked them over as well. Afterward, he went to the tavern, where he found the place abuzz with the men wondering where their next “employment” would take them.

  A large, fierce man named Flum raised his tankard of beer and stated, “Beran Hile is upstairs with the captain and the council. Soon, my lads, we will free another tin-crowned idiot of some of his gold. Here’s to a profitable summer.”

  “Here, here,” they all agreed.

  Brenyn remained silent, though he raised his tankard high. Gold did not necessarily interest him – he yet possessed one gold coin and a few pieces of silver. It was vengeance that made him long for the chance to employ his weaponry. He would dutifully perform whatever task the captain set him to do, but he would also, while he was out there in the world, be alert for any chance to rid the world of a darking. Whenever he spoke of such things to Jed, his friend would inevitably frown and shake his head.

  “Humans cannot kill darkings, Brenyn.”
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br />   To which blunt statement, Brenyn would ever reply. “Well, we shall see.”

  “I would rather you not die, Brenyn,” Jed insisted once when Brenyn had spoken thus. “I have few friends, and you are the best.”

  “Nor do I mean to die needlessly,” Brenyn told him. “I mean to discover their weaknesses, for surely there is a weakness that they all possess.”

  “I have never witnessed a weakness in them,” Jed argued.

  Brenyn thought for a moment and then looked at his friend. “How many darkings,” he wondered, “do you think there are in the world?”

  Jed shrugged. “Who knows? Dozens, at the least, perhaps hundreds, maybe thousands. The world is a big place.”

  Brenyn nodded. “And I mean to slay them all, everyone,” he stated. “So, you see, Jed, I must live long indeed, once I discover the weakness whereby they may be slain.” His gray eyes hardened. “I mean to slay them all,” he repeated. “I intend to hunt them down and slay them all.”

  Jed shook his head. “You worry me, Brenyn.”

  At the end of that day of leisure, Captain Murlet and Beran Hile and the others came down the stairs as evening fell and Murlet called for the men to gather around. Jumping up to stand on top of the bar, Murlet looked at them all. “The good prince of Morilund, Pelterez, in whose service we have often labored,” – here, Murlet executed a grand, flourishing bow – “has very generously offered a grand sum of two hundred and fifty gold coins to remove squatters from Merkland off his lands and out of his towns. Let us have a vote – who wants to relieve Pelterez of his gold?”

  A general shout rang out. “Aye!”

  When the din had died down, Captain Murlet looked around once more. “Any opposed?”

  “Aye, captain – I am very much opposed,” Clef Echols, the barman, stated loudly.