Daggers of Ladis

by RG Long

  Trying to persuade her eyes to remain open and her brain to keep putting one thought in front of another, she sat up fully on the ground and looked down at the dying flame.

  This only made her feel worse. Though no one had said anything about it, she felt like they were waiting for her to aid their travels by using her magic. It would be easy to light a fire using her stone. Or, at least, it should be easy. But the very thought of producing such a spell made her feel exhausted.

  And she just couldn’t.

  “I’m fine,” she said, though she knew she didn’t sound convincing. It had been a full week since they had left Meris. They were only a short distance from Juttis now. If they were quick, they would be there tomorrow. If Blume weren’t slow, that is.

  Ealrin sat down next to her. She dreaded what was coming next. He would ask about what was bothering her and what was making her so sluggish. She would have to tell him she had no idea.

  She braced herself to be frustrated, both at him and herself. There had only been a few times she had been upset with Ealrin and they always involved her abilities or her adventurous nature.

  She neither felt confident in her abilities nor very adventurous at the moment, but she also knew she’d defend herself in spite of that.

  “What was Holve thinking?” Ealrin asked.

  Blume’s defenses and arguments that she had prepared clogged her mind for a moment as she tried to make room for the question Ealrin had just asked. It was certainly not what she had expected.

  “What?” she said, unable to get things straight in her head.

  “I mean,“ Ealrin sighed, moving his hands and stuttering in a way that made Blume think that he wasn’t quite sure he himself knew what he wanted to say. “Why send us to the north? And why stay back, forcing us to go without him? He’s supposed to be the one in charge. Isn’t he? And didn’t he want to leave Ladis all together? Why are we still here?”

  Ealrin put his hands on his head and gave a small grown.

  “I’m sorry,” he said folding his arms in front of his chest. “I’m just tired. And hungry. And confused.”

  Try as she might, Blume was still having a hard time concentrating, but she was able to latch onto that last word.

  “What are you confused about?” she asked in a manner that made her sound much more alert than she actually felt.

  “On Ruyn, we were making peace between the races. Or at least stopping Androlion from killing them all. On, Irradan at least I felt like we were trying to help the elves not obliterate each other. Jurrin told it all so neatly. But what are we doing here? Why come to this awful land and stay? We have no purpose here.”

  Blume took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “We have to do the same thing we’ve done everywhere we’ve gone,” she said with more conviction then she felt. She could tell Ealrin was confused and maybe even feeling lost. He had helped her in so many ways. Perhaps she could offer him a moment of clarity and help him in return. If only her head would stop spinning.

  “We’re going to do what’s right. It isn’t right that people would kill each other over religion. Or force others to convert when it’s not what’s in their heart. We have to convince them that there’s a better way. There has to be a better way.”

  Ealrin didn’t say anything for a long time and Blume was grateful. Even the short conversation had made her head pound with pressure and the pain was making it hard to continue to speak. She rubbed her temples with her fingers in an attempt to ease the sting.

  “You’re right,” Ealrin said after a bit. He lifted his head up and looked at Blume.

  “We’ve got to do what’s...”

  He cut off mid-sentence and Blume looked at him questioningly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Something’s wrong with your ring,” he said, the tone of his voice changing drastically.

  Blume held out her hand and looked at the ring he had given her. It shone with a blue light like it always had but...

  Then she saw it. It was the quickest of flashes. Within the gem of blue there was a wisp of black smoke. Something was wrong with the stone.

  “Let me see that,” Ealrin said offering his hand out to Blume.

  He reached to take off her ring, but she found it wouldn’t budge. That was strange. She pulled on it, but the ring would not come off. She held out her hand again so that she could get a better look at it. In the cold weather, she hadn’t even considered that this ring that had been at one time too large for her might try to slip off. But it hadn’t. It wound closer to her finger, like it was a part of her. Now that she had tried to get it off and failed, there was nothing more in her mind that she wanted to do than to rip that ring off of her finger.

  She pulled with all her might, but the ring would not budge.

  “What’s wrong?” Ealrin asked.

  “I can’t get this ring off,” Blume said, already out of breath from the effort she had given trying to remove it.

  “Let me try,” Ealrin said. He moved over to her and gripped the ring between his fingers. He couldn’t move it. Not even a little.

  “That’s strange,” Ealrin said with his brow furrowed. “It came off of my finger just fine. I was afraid it was going to be too big for you, honestly.”

  Blume looked down at her ring again. It made her feel uncomfortable, knowing that it was difficult to take it off. If should have slid off easily with her hands being as cold as they were.

  But it wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s time to wake everyone up,” Ealrin said, nodding at Blume. “One more day. “Hopefully after that we will be able to get you some food and real rest. And maybe even some answers.”

  He looked at her hopefully, but a nagging doubt loomed in Blume‘s mind. Being unable to get off the ring along with her current feelings of helplessness seemed to signal something dark was in store for them. And she couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried.

  Ealrin walked around the camp, shaking the rest of their party. They began to get ready for their last trek to the north kingdom. The suns were beginning to rise over the horizon, but they brought no light to Blume’s mood, nor shone any brightness on the feeling of gloom she couldn’t shake.

  IT WAS ONLY BY THE light of the moons and torches along the walls of the city that they were able to see their destination. It loomed off in the distance. To Blume it seemed like an insurmountable trek, but she knew they had to make it there.

  They would have been there before the darkness had set in, but Ealrin had insisted they rest for her sake. She had tried her best to push her body to its limits, but after Ealrin had caught her and prevented her stumbling for the third time, he refused to take another step until she rested.

  She was grateful, but resented the fact that she needed it. The day’s march only made her wearier. No matter how much food she ate, and she knew Jurrin and Ealrin were both giving her their portions, she could not fill her belly and she could not erase the sense of dread filling her being.

  While the other cities of Ladis had been built into mountains or relied on the surrounding cliffs to offer protection, the northern kingdom of Juttis had simply built its walls insurmountably high. They loomed over the desolate landscape, which might keep out an invading army just as well as cliffs or mountains.

  While they had carried most of their water with them, Blume saw no source that could support such a city. Nor did she see fields or pastures with enough food to rely on as well. It seemed that the north kingdom survived on spite alone.

  “Rather bleak place don’t you think, Mister Ealrin?” Jurrin asked as they looked at the city they were meant to infiltrate.

  Blume saw Ealrin nod his agreement, but he didn’t offer up any commentary. She wondered if his mind was on their task at hand or if it was otherwise preoccupied.

  Gregory took a step in front of the group and turned to face them. It was hard to see his face in the dim light, but he looked determined and grim.

&nb
sp; “Remember how we said that it was hard to get a contact in the north kingdom to gather intelligence for us?” he asked.

  Blume recalled the conversation.

  “We have one contact who is sympathetic to our cause, but even when we’re with her, we will need to be on guard.”

  “Her?” Blume asked, recognizing for the first time the gender of their contact had not been spoken. Somehow, for such a bleak city, she had not expected a woman to be willing to spy for them.

  Gregory nodded.

  “We’re getting into the city on her blessing alone,” he said. “So, mind your manners. Unless you can’t help it. In that case, keep your mouth shut.”

  “That means you’ll be staying quiet then, right Gregory?” Maccus asked with a smile on his face.

  Gregory gave him a withering glare, but it didn’t seem to faze the young man.

  Tratta stepped forward and pointed down at the road, or at least at what looked like a road from this far away.

  “Soldiers?” she asked, apprehension in her voice.

  Gregory looked down at the place where she indicated.

  “No,” he said. “That’s our ticket into the city.”

  28: Furs and Favors

  Miss Rivius was in a state. She shook her head as she walked down the long stone hallway of her sprawling complex. She fussed with the buttons on her coat more out of habit than actual attempts at fastening them tighter. Not only had her latest shipment of goods not come on schedule, as she had hoped it would, she had also had to fire three girls from her workshop whom she had caught stealing patches.

  Of course, she would have given them to the girls had they asked, but thievery was not something she would tolerate in her shops. If these girls got away with it, the next thing she knew all of her wares would be out on the streets of Juttis on the black market and being sold for twice as much as they were worth without her seeing a coin for her labors.

  Running the largest fur, cloth, and clothing store in north Ladis was not a small task and must be constantly managed. If she were to get lax, then some other upstart would take her place and begin trying to under sell her. That’s why Miss Rivius was always one step ahead of her rivals. Whether it meant buying out their little shops or recruiting them to sell her own goods and splitting the profits, she was a powerhouse of trading and bartering.

  Which is why she was one of the most powerful women in Juttis and certainly one of the most feared. She suspected that this was why she had remained single her whole life. This, and she doubted any legitimate claim of her hand. Mostly they were power hungry men looking for her money more than her companionship.

  No matter.

  She would find solace in her booming business instead of the arms of a worthless lover.

  “You there!” she called at a servant who was passing in front of her at the intersection of the hall. “Where is Master Ferrin?”

  The poor girl looked stricken and Rivius knew her tone was harsh, but there was business to attend to and she hadn’t seen her supplier yet. This worried her more than she cared to admit. With the recent strife down south, she hated to lose another faithful business partner.

  More so, she hated to lose the furs.

  “I haven’t... He hasn’t come through the gates yet, Miss Rivius,” the dark headed girl replied. Her eyes were wide with fear as she knew this was not the answer that was hoped for.

  Miss Rivius let out a deep sigh, while still staring down the girl. Likely this was one of the orphans she had taken in. The girls who had blonde hair were all from well to do families and mostly kept their hair up in a neat bun. This girl had dark hair split into two braids down the front. She had likely done it herself. There weren’t many dark haired girls in her shops and the ones that were there were often shunned.

  “See to the gates,” Miss Rivius said. “I want you by the entry fires. Send a servant the moment he comes, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Miss Rivius,” the girl said, curtseying awkwardly. “Thank you, Miss Rivius.”

  She scurried off down the hall and Miss Rivius watched her go. As she left, she saw a seam coming undone in the girl’s coat.

  “Come back here!” she called, this time fussing with her buttons in order to remove her jacket. The girl looked scared again, but absolutely went white when Miss Rivius held out her hand to her.

  “Give me that jacket,” she said sternly. “It’s falling part. Here, take this one while I have this mended.”

  At first the girl just looked at the coat with wide eyes. Miss Rivius began to help unbutton the servant’s coat and then put her own on her. It was then that she noticed the girl’s bony shoulders. She made a mental note to ensure this one got a few extra helpings at meal times.

  Miss Rivius was a hard woman, but she was not uncaring.

  “Off with you now!” she said, ushering the girl in the direction she had been heading, before she tried on the servant’s coat for herself. It was certainly worn down and thin. She sighed. It would be time to redo all of the girls’ coats if this was the case. But, more than likely, the poor child had been given the worst coat in the bunch due to her dark hair.

  She made another mental note to check on her tomorrow to make sure she still was wearing the coat she had given her and had not had it taken by one of the other servants.

  Miss Rivius was a ruthless business woman, but she would never be accused of mistreating her girls. She worked them hard and nearly to the end of their abilities, but she saw that they were well fed and well clothed.

  The best clothing maker in the north could not have her servants wearing worn out jackets.

  Walking briskly down the hall, she pulled out of her pants pocket a list and a coal pen. She checked the next thing off of it, added her two new items, studied it a moment, and then continued on her path. There was much more to attend to.

  After checking on the sewing room, where girls sat at desks and followed the same pattern over and over again to put together coats and jackets, and the raw materials room, where furs and cloths were cut and shaped to be sent to the last room she was just seeing about, the cutting room. This was where every piece was put into a pattern and cut to perfection.

  This created a lot of scraps, and even they were put to good use. Not one piece of usable fabric or furs was ever left on the floor. It would be saved and used in smaller creations or, at the very least, when it was worn down to the smallest of strips, used for tinder to keep the fires going around the shops.

  Miss Rivius oversaw it all. Whenever she walked into a room, the master of the area would come and bow to her and give her a report. Whenever something was to her liking, she gave praise where it was due and moved on. When something was not up to snuff, she would hound the master until they got it right.

  Her masters were all kinds: males and females, young and old. She valued creativity and resourcefulness, not doing a job because that was what was expected of them. She would often promote someone from the workstations who seemed especially adept at their skill to show others the same. These would often become her masters. By virtue of this, some of her laborers had sat in the same chair for years, content with their work and not showing any sign of being able to move past their station. Others could sew or cut brilliantly, but couldn’t teach someone else to do the same.

  Had it been so when Miss Rivius was a youth, she may have come into her own sooner. Now, being a woman well into her middle years and getting older by the day, she saw that everyone who worked hard was rewarded.

  Those who stole, however...

  “I do care for your family and their hunger,” she said as two guards escorted out a young man who was caught pocketing scraps. “But if you steal from my warehouse, you are fired from my shop.”

  “Miss Rivius. please!” the young boy pleaded. He had a red bandana around his white blonde hair and was shorter than his slightly deep voice would have placed him. “We need the extra coins!”

  “You should have thought of that before you st
ole,” she said. “This is now the third time you’ve stolen from my shops. Each with a month long suspension in between. Each time, you beg to come back and then steal again. I won’t have it!”

  They walked him to the gates of her compound and tossed him into the courtyard.

  “Do not dare come back,” Miss Rivius said warningly. “You have scorned my grace and sneered at my goodwill. I care deeply for your family, but I do wish they had raised you to be honest and work diligently with your own hands instead of stealing from my stables, my storerooms, and my kitchens!”

  “Please, Miss Rivius! Please!”

  “Miss Rivius!” came another voice, one she had heard earlier that day. The young girl who was wearing her coat came running up to her. She curtsied again as the two guards saw the young boy thrown out of the gates.

  “Master Ferrin is here!” she said, pointing at the gates where three carts surrounded by torches and several men were coming through the portal.

  Miss Rivius looked up and pushed some of her own darker hair behind her ear. It had fallen out of her bun. She was both relieved to see Master Ferrin and worried. This was to be a special shipment.

  “Bring it into the stables!” she exclaimed to the guards around Master Ferrin. “I want to see to this shipment myself!”

  She looked at her guards with a keen eye.

  “And make sure that boy gets to his home!”

  IN THE STABLES, IT was cold and blustery, but not because of the lack of fires to keep the workers there dry and comfortable. Whenever a shipment came in, large doors had to be flung open and the elements, whatever they happened to be at that time, came in with them. Today, the winds of the north were blowing harder as the sky darkened and the night set in around the city.