The Grey Ghost: Book Two of the Archaic Ring Series

by Reed R. Stevens

  “Calm down, Nolan. It’s certainly suspicious, but I don’t think he’d try to harm us.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one he planted some unknown arrayment on.” He raised his left arm. “This didn’t just happen on its own. Whatever he did, it changed the colour of these symbols.”

  “I don’t know, Nolan.” She wasn’t able to hide the worry in her eyes, lips creasing into a frown. “For now, we’ve got other things to deal with.”

  Nolan’s breathing became rapid. How was he supposed to ignore what had just happened? It wasn’t until a soothing stream of white energy began to trickle out from the ring within his chest that he began to calm down. Even if I knew what he did, I couldn’t do anything about it.

  “You’re right,” he sighed. “We need to link up with Jason.”

  Both of them became downcast, as if a dark cloud loomed overhead. Neither of them had any way of knowing what might have happened while they were in Nia.

  As they were getting their bearings, Nolan caught Nyla glancing in the direction where she’d been held captive by the Bloodhand Sect. Noticing this, Nolan grabbed her hand and began walking out of the forest.

  “Come on,” he said, releasing her. “First thing’s first. Let’s head back to Greenwall. This place smells terrible.”

  Nyla gave a determined nod, and then the two of them began darting throughout the trees with aweing speed.

  It took less than a minute to clear the forest, which Nolan found much easier to navigate through with an enhanced spiritual sense. Taking the underbrush into account, it was easier to jump from place to place than it was to run through all of the shrubs and undergrowth.

  Nolan relied on his memory to lead Nyla through the vast meadows of dazzling flowers and over to the main road that would lead them to Greenwall’s eastern gate. They ran so fast that they kicked up colourful tufts of flower petals as they bounded through the sprawling fields, leaving tiny clouds of natural confetti in their wake.

  A minute into their travels, Nyla pointed upwards and exclaimed, “Look at that!”

  Nolan was amazed to see a massive bird soaring up into the sky from somewhere just outside of the city. Thanks to his exemplary eyesight he could vaguely make out a few silhouettes on its back despite there being several kilometres between them.

  “People are riding that thing? That’s crazy.”

  They hurried down the road, and eventually covered the final stretch into town at a brisk walk.

  They’re stronger than before? Nolan couldn’t help but notice that there were twice as many guards at the gate than there had been in the past.

  They were stopped for a moment, but the strongest guard present, a grizzled man whose cultivation was two levels above Nolan’s, waved them along. Nyla raised a few eyebrows on the way in, but the rough-looking man told the others that her aura was clean. A great deal of tension seemed to leave their bodies. The rest of the guards were at the second level of the Profound Entry stage. Normally they would have been impressed that Nolan had such a high cultivation at such a young age, but evidently he was nothing next to Nyla. Not only that, while it was only by a year, she was younger than him.

  What was that? He said her aura was clean. They must have heightened security in light of recent events, and those guards had probably suspected Nyla of being a disciple based on her young age and powerful cultivation.

  They arrived at a park along the main road of the eastern district, a simple stretch of well-kempt lawn that was dotted with several aged yet sturdy benches and centred by a small pond of murky water.

  Nolan was wearing a short white tunic and soft black trousers that he found easy to move in, a fine belt with a silver buckle holding up the loose garments from beneath his upper fabrics. Most people in this world tucked their tunics beneath the belt, but he let his hang down like a T-shirt. He’d thrown on a dark pair of smooth leather boots, the sword he’d bought at a shop in the southern district now hanging from his belt where he’d notched its scabbard to the leather. Many people carried around weapons within the city, so he wasn’t conspicuous.

  Nyla wore a grey pair of leggings beneath a long, sturdy robe of the same colour. Her simple clothes couldn’t hide the outline of her athletic limbs and attractive curves. Long black hair draped across her back, showcasing a healthy sheen from countless soakings in the Divine Spirit Fountain.

  “Should we return to our room at the inn?” she asked, staring around at the main street with cautious eyes.

  “Not the inn we stayed at, but another one. I told Jason to meet me there, and to leave the city if I didn’t come back within three days.”

  They ran freely through the streets, which were almost completely bereft of the many merchant stalls that had clustered the cobblestones the last time they’d been in Greenwall.

  “I can’t sense Jason,” said Nolan as they ran. “Can you?”

  She shook her head.

  They hurried to the Gilded Mare, the lack of bustle on the wide streets becoming startlingly apparent as they made their way there.

  Where is everyone?

  They’d known that Jason wasn’t at the inn long before they arrived, however they still dropped by so that Nolan could ask the staff if anybody fitting Jason’s description had recently checked into the inn. Several golden cards later and he confirmed that Jason and the girl had indeed checked into the hotel, only the clerks didn’t know whether or not they were in their rooms.

  A guest at the inn overheard Nolan’s inquiries, and after seeing how much gold he was dishing out, the grey-haired man was quick to inform him that he’d seen a young boy and girl fitting that description leave the inn not long ago, only they were accompanied by another girl and a woman. Who would have been with them? The information was unreliable, but he gave the gangly man a golden card anyways, since he had no way of knowing whether or not the claim was sincere.

  “If he was telling the truth, then Jason was here earlier today. Has it really only been six days since you rescued me?” Nyla sat across from him at one of the many large wooden tables that dotted the common room.

  Nolan nodded. “Remember that caravan we all agreed to take whenever we decided to leave?”

  “To Ferguson? You think he took it?”

  “It’s the only way he’d risk travelling from one city to another. He had more than enough money to buy two tickets.”

  “Do you know where to buy them?”

  “Yeah, let’s get some for ourselves. If there’s a caravan leaving today, then we’ll probably find Jason at the meeting place.”

  By the time they arrived at the simple stone building, the portly clerk behind the counter said that the next caravan was scheduled to set out in just a few minutes. At first he’d said that all of the tickets had been sold off, seeing as how this was the first caravan to leave the city in the past two weeks. It seemed that they delayed its departure in light of recent events so that more people would join in on the group, to provide a sense of security in numbers.

  Nolan insisted on buying the silver tickets, and the clerk came around after receiving a fat tip. He then led Nyla to the business district in a rushed manner, taking the deserted backroads to avoid drawing too much attention to their rushed speeds.

  When they were just outside of the reputable alchemy store that Nolan had frequented with Jason, he paused as a ticklish chill crept up his spine, goosebumps spreading down his arms and legs.

  “Why are we here, Nolan?”

  He opened the door and stepped through the threshold, wondering after the cause of his sudden unease. “To pick something up. That, and I’ll be needing your help for a little bit.”

  The shelf-ridden shop had the same awkward aroma of mixed herbal scents that he remembered. While technically he’d visited just a week or so ago, in actuality it had been over a year.

  “Ah, Mister Nolan!” The pallid store clerk got up from his seat, which was behind the front counter. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival.”


  “Is my order in, then?”

  The man nodded and then handed Nolan three spatial bags that he retrieved from a shelf beneath the counter. “It’s all there, though I don’t think that we will be able to get our hands on any more of these ingredients. Although they’re relatively inexpensive, there’s only so much cave dust and sun powder within the city.”

  “It’s understandable. I’m surprised you were able to get me this much.” He reached into his primary spatial bag and slapped a stack of golden cards down on the counter. “I’d like to rent a room, too.”

  “The usual one?”

  “The biggest you’ve got, if it’s available. I won’t be long.”

  If Nyla was curious then she didn’t show it, as Nolan chatted with the clerk for a minute or so before the pallid man led them up to a large room on the second floor. It was laden with simple furnishings, which included three large desks that supported various vials and containers of glass and crystal. The room had much better lighting than the one he usually rented, with over a dozen shining lanterns that contained small white candles that burned bright like LED lightbulbs.

  “What’s all this then?” Nyla asked the moment that Nolan closed the door behind him. “Shouldn’t we be meeting up with Jason?”

  “We’ll catch up to them soon, this won’t take long.” He pulled out the three spatial bags that the store clerk had just given him. “Remember what I told you about the sciences from my world?”

  She nodded. “That’s how you created those explosions.”

  “Exactly.” Nolan produced fifteen empty barrels, each the same size as the one he’d used to kill the leader of the disciples that had kidnapped her and Quin. He tapped one of the barrels, a clever smile on his face. “I found a store that sells these cheap—four for a silver card. I’ve been meaning to fill them up, but I’d already bought the store out of all the necessary ingredients.”

  “Fill them? With what?”

  “Gunpowder.” He retrieved two sets of oversized pestles and mortars from a nearby table, and handed a set to Nyla with a confident grin. “I’ll teach you how to make something cool. After that, we’ll hit the closest general store and then head off to catch up with that merchant caravan. Be sure to mind your strength. I can’t imagine these tools can take much force.”

  

  It took three hours for them to make enough gunpowder to fill all fifteen of the barrels. The grinding speed was many times faster than when he’d worked with Jason, in that dimly lit workspace on the first floor. With his current strength, it hardly took any time to grind up the ingredients to the necessary levels of fineness.

  After packing up all of the barrels, the two of them left the room and went downstairs to chat with the store clerk for a while. Nolan asked him if he knew why the streets were so lifeless, and also inquired about recent news within the city.

  Six days had come and gone since they’d disappeared from Venara, and it was now early in the evening on the seventh day. Just before he’d gone off to save Nyla, the city lord’s youngest son was murdered in public by a disciple of the Bloodhand Sect, almost immediately after another had been captured within the estate of one of the more reputable merchants within the city. Soon after, the city guard followed a disciple to a hidden encampment not far from Greenwall, and a small battle broke out. Only one disciple managed to escape, though most of the soldiers dispatched by the city lord had fallen in battle.

  For a handful of disciples to have taken out nearly all of those soldiers, Nolan couldn’t afford to be careless if he encountered any from the so called ‘inner court.’

  In just one week, Greenwall had seen more encounters with the Bloodhand Sect than all of Verdure had in the past decade. Nobody could be sure if there were other disciples hiding in their midst, and everyone knew what they did to any unfortunate soul that fell into their diabolical clutches. This was why people tended to stay indoors lately.

  It wasn’t just Greenwall; apparently the surrounding cities were also in a state of public unrest. This region of Flora bordered the expansive forests that separated Verdure from the plains region, the only obstacle that lie between the Bloodhand Sect’s territory and the kingdom.

  “One last thing,” said Nolan. “The disciple that was found in that merchant’s estate. Who was the merchant, do you know?”

  “A man by the name of Remus. Poor sob. His wives, the maids, even his boy; they’re saying that everyone who was on the property was torn to shreds by those monsters.”

  Nolan’s heart sank, and then began to palpitate. “Thanks.” He turned around and left without another word, and Nyla followed him out with sombre eyes.

  “You think they were looking for us?” They walked down the largest street of the business district, which was dotted with those few who were brave enough to chance leaving their homes. “Do you think they were killed bec—”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s terrible what happened, but what’s done is done.” Nyla’s hands were balled up into fists, her knuckles white. “We need to leave this city.”

  “We really do.”

  They stopped at a general store to pick up a jar of snapfire beans, and then hurried down the main road of the eastern district.

  After hearing about what happened to Remus and his family, Nolan’s heart was taut with anxiety. If it turned out that Jason wasn’t travelling with the merchant caravan, then there was a chance that he’d met with some great misfortune.

  They exited the eastern gates a short while later, leaving a long trail of dust in their wake as they sprinted down the captivating countryside. Great walls that were shrouded by vines and shadows loomed over them like an oppressive cloud on a dismal day.

  As the distant caravan came into view, a chill ran down Nolan’s back for the second time that day. He didn’t know why he was feeling such trepidation, but he shirked off the uneasy feeling that needled his gut, and hurried onward. It wasn’t long before they had joined up with the lengthy throng of carriages, horsemen, and beasts of burden, drawing the eyes of some that sat idly at the open faces of their vehicles. They had been told to seek out a man known as the Red Captain, leader of the mercenary band that was hired to protect the caravan. Over a hundred horsemen flanked the procession, not one of the warriors showing the slightest lack of vigilance. It was unsettling that many betrayed signs of fear and unease, a testament to the dangerous times that this region of the kingdom was facing. If burly and scarred warriors like this were scared, who wouldn’t be?

  They eventually found their man, a mercenary with a red helmet who spearheaded the four hundred or so travellers that were making the journey to Ferguson. They presented their tickets to him after a brief exchange, as the tall man didn’t seem to mind their late arrival. Afterward, they asked around for a while before an old lady let them sit in her rickety carriage along with her and her grandsons.

  Nyla spoke with the family for a while, but Nolan didn’t say much. The carriage ride reminded him of the day he met Kam and Kole, who’d been killed because of him, at least indirectly. He found himself cursing the Bloodhand Sect for being so petty, so evil.

  It wasn’t only the fate of those brothers that filled Nolan with grief. He and Nyla had scanned the entire caravan from end to end, and neither of them could find any traces of Jason or the girl.

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Starless Sky

  The caravan moved at an excruciatingly slow pace, at least in comparison to Nolan’s running speed. Several dozen carriages and just as many tarp-covered wagons made up the extensive procession, most of them privately owned by small-time merchants or wary travellers, at least according to the old woman who’d let him and Nyla bum a ride on her shabby carriage. Her nephew operated the cargo transport that followed directly behind them, a withered skeleton of faded wood holding up a thick brown canvas that served as both ceiling and roof. The design reminded Nolan of the old western movies that his dad had watched every night after work instead of spending time with
his kids. Westerns from six until sleep.

  The ride was irritatingly bumpy, but Nolan figured that it was about as good as it could get with thin wooden wheels and cracked, uneven pavement. Fuck sakes, I can jog faster than this. He felt an urge to ask someone for directions to Ferguson so that he could simply run there. The only reason he put up with the slow pace was the presence of the Red Captain and his mercenaries. Even though he was confident in his ability to protect himself, with disciples of the Bloodhand Sect freely roaming the region he didn’t want to take the risk of travelling alone.

  The interior of the carriage could barely hold six people. With two on one side and four on the other, he and Nyla sat shoulder to shoulder despite the extra room on their end. After living together for over a year, they were used to sitting side by side like this.

  Her shoulder feels nice.

  Thankfully, the window seat afforded him a chance to retreat into his own thoughts, for he didn’t feel much like talking. As for Nyla, she was busy entertaining the kids with retellings of the fairy tales that he introduced her to, though she took liberties with the plotlines at times. The old woman’s grandsons were two brown-haired brothers with honest eyes and gap-toothed grins. The childish enthusiasm that they displayed during each development in the stories was innocently heartwarming, though Nolan found it hard to appreciate them.

  Their smiles reminded him of Kole, the boy they’d saved on their way to Greenwall. Knowing that the kid had been murdered in the end put Nolan’s mind in a dark spot.

  The grey-haired woman was kind enough, listening to Nyla’s stories with appreciative attentiveness with a relaxed smile on her wrinkled face. Meanwhile, her grandkids continued to drink up the fairy tales as if they were the sweetest tasting juice.

  Farmhouses stopped popping into view once they’d travelled a certain distance, though the caravan passed several plantations that were guarded by men and women that wore the same armour as the soldiers from the recent battle. It seemed that the farms farthest from the city were run by the government, a reasonable precaution what with the apparent presence of bandits in the region.