Beyond The Vale

by Brian D. Anderson

  Linx exited the building and took a long breath. As much as she loved Upper Troi, Drake had been right. Lower Troi seemed more alive; more tangible. Though she had never quite understood his love for manga juice, even the food was better. Of course, if you said this in the presence of a noble, they would look at you as if you’d lost your mind.

  The driver opened the rear door for Linx to enter. “I’m heading back up,” she said.

  The driver nodded silently.

  It was still strange to have people treat her this way. She was a trusted aid to the king, and while officially she held no rank in the royal guard, not even Salazar had authority over her. This being the case did not make the way people looked at her – as if she were about to bite off their heads at any moment – any easier to get used to. She was still a thief at heart, a street urchin from the provinces.

  When Salazar had summoned her and asked that she steal a vex crystal from the power station, she’d had no idea where that would lead. Otherwise, she might very well have run away, back to the provinces. There had been a time she would have thought someone like Xavier a person to be feared…even respected. Now he was little more than a tool, a means to an end. Though she wasn’t about to underestimate him; the man had risen from a member of the royal guard to the nobility through deception and careful planning. He might be a bastard, but he was a smart bastard.

  The ride to Upper Troi was exceptionally long, made so by both the traffic and the urgency of the meeting she was about to have. Linx was ready to play her hand. She could only hope that she had not miscalculated.

  She fingered the holovid in her pocket. I guess I’ll know soon enough.

  Chapter Eight

  Drake descended the steep, rock strewn hill, dodging the prickly thorn brushes, twice nearly sliding the rest of the way down after stepping on loose gravel. Guery, conversely, had no trouble navigating the obstacles, even in the dim light of the quarter moon.

  At the bottom was a narrow trail that stretched on for about a hundred yards to a broader dirt road on which they headed east for about half a mile. The smell of fire and oil grew stronger with each step, and his eyes began to sting and water. Ahead the glow of flame silhouetted the rooftops of several buildings, and the clinking of hammer on metal could be heard from somewhere inside.

  “No one should be on the street,” said Guery. “But just in case, if anyone stops us, let me do the talking.”

  Drake nodded. The first few buildings were about as poorly constructed as anything he had seen before. They looked like a stiff breeze could topple them into a heap. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the windows were lit with what looked to be lamps, though what fueled them he didn’t know. Certainly not mana. Glancing skyward, he took in the stars partially obscured with clouds along with the acrid smoke billowing from what had described as a mining town.

  After passing a few more buildings, they turned left down another street. Here was more of the same, though in slightly better repair, with a wooden promenade running along either side. A few people were trudging about, though none seemed interested in Guery and Drake. Still, Drake kept his head down and tried not to appear overly interested in his surroundings.

  After crossing an intersection, they halted at a set of large double doors secured by a lock and chain. Guery fumbled around in his pocket for a moment and produced a ring with several

  keys attached. Eventually he found the right one and removed the chain. The door groaned open, and dim lamplight spilled out onto the street.

  Guery stepped back to allow Drake to enter. “You’ll have to stay here until the transport arrives in two days.”

  Beyond the door were several wagons and crates scattered about, along with various pallets of twisted iron and what appeared to be broken tools – hammers, pitch forks, and the like. At the rear was a ladder that gave access to a loft. Lyal was sitting at the edge, arms folded atop the middle rail of the banister, kicking his feet.

  “What do you do here?” asked Drake.

  Guery shrugged. “Repairs, mostly. The forge is in the back. I use the scrap to make parts for wagons, and once in a while I make spikes when the rails come loose.”

  Metalwork in Vale was done on a much larger scale, though Drake’s father had from time to time fabricated parts for his inventions. This was done using mana to heat the steel, so Drake imagined the Bomar process would be completely foreign.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Guery. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping, and then we’ll have a spot of supper.”

  Drake was led to the far left corner of the building, where a tall pile of lumber had been stacked neatly. Behind this was a cot and a blanket.

  “It’s not much,’ said Guery. “But we don’t have guests very often.” “It will do just fine,” said Drake, stowing his pack against the wall.

  Calling down Lyal, Guery then took Drake through a door at the rear and into another smaller building. Here were a pair of single beds, a table, and an iron stove. A few chests, a cabinet,

  and a dresser were the only other furnishings, and on the walls hung more tools along with a crude painting of a light-haired woman in a blue dress. On the stove rested a pair a steaming pots, and a loaf of bread was waiting on the table.

  Lyal gathered plates and bowls while Guery retrieved a bottle and cups from the cupboard. Drake, unsure what to do, took a seat at the table. Guery joined him and opened the bottle, which was filled with what smelled like wine. Lyal’s job was apparently to serve the food.

  It’s the small things you need to know, thought Drake. Common habits and customs.

  This was true for a hawker as well. To blend in at a new town, it was essential to know the local way of doing things. Each town had its own slight differences, slight but important to know when chasing a runner.

  The meal was a simple potato stew and a helping of boiled cabbage – plain but palatable.

  The wine was sweet; a bit too sweet for Drake’s liking. “So tell me,” said Guery. “Where are you from?”

  Drake felt his skin crawl at the question. “What do you mean?”

  “In Malizar. I can’t place your accent. But then I’ve been out here for so long, I almost forget what home looks like.”

  These were the types of questions Drake wanted to avoid. “Sort of all over,” he replied, using the same evasive answer he had given a hundred times as a hawker.

  This seemed to be a satisfactory response. “Was your father a tinker or something?” “Something like that.” A tinker? He quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about yourself.

  What’s it like out here?”

  This drew a curious look. “How long were you out in the forest?” He waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s a hard life. Constantly worrying about Nelwyn raids. No lights. No horses. Soldiers coming and going all the time. I wish I’d never signed up for this.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Same reason we all did. Lies. A land of riches, they called it. Where a man could come with nothing and make something of himself. All we had to do was have the courage to try.” He drained his cup and poured another. “If I’d known what it would be like, I’d have stayed put. My wife wouldn’t have left. Sure, I’d still be nothing but a low-born smith. But at least my family would be together.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “I told you. She left me for the Bolan Captain. That wasn’t the official reason, of course.

  She said she was ill, and with no way to treat her here, they let her return to Malizar.”

  Drake decided not to pry further into the subject. “If you hate it so much out here, why not go back yourself?”

  Guery furrowed his brow and then turned to his son. “Go to the loft, Lyal. Time for study.” Lyal hesitated. He had been quiet throughout the meal, stealing fearful glances over at

  Drake. The deaths he’d witnessed had apparently affected him greatly.

  “Go on,” said Guery, with a reassuring smi
le. “It’s fine. I’ll come get you in a bit.” Reluctantly the boy stood and exited the room.

  “Now, friend,” said Guery. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re really from?” Drake stiffened. “What do you mean? I already told you.”

  “If you were from Malizar, you would know I can’t go back. The Imperium won’t allow tradesmen to return.”

  Drake was caught, and he knew it. Careless. “I can’t tell you where I’m from.”

  “I owe you my son’s life. But don’t think for a second I won’t turn you over if you’re putting him in danger.”

  “I’m not. That much I can promise.”

  Guery stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. “I suppose you could have hurt us already if you wanted to. There’ve always been rumors of other Bomar out there in the wilderness. Survivors of the Great Upheaval. No one believes it. But I guess maybe we should. Is that what you are?” When Drake didn’t respond, he added: “If you can’t fool a dim-witted lout like me, what do you think will happen to you in Malizar?”

  Drake lowered his head, thinking of what to say that would not leave him more exposed than he was already. “You’re right. I’m not from Malizar. I’m from a place far from here. I can’t tell you exactly where. And you couldn’t find it if I did.”

  “I see. Why have you come?”

  “I’m…a scout of sorts, I guess you could say. I’ve come to learn about your people.” This seemed as close to the truth as he could tell without divulging his actual mission.

  Guery raised an eyebrow. “Learn about us? Why?” “To see if you’re a threat.”

  Guery sniffed. “If you’re worried about threats, look to the Nelwyn. They’re nothing but blood-thirsty savages, that lot.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I guess you haven’t run into them yet. Well you’d better hope you don’t. Kill anything without pointed ears – that’s their motto.”

  “So you’re at war with them?”

  “I suppose. Not so much lately. They’ve faded into the woods for now. But they’ll be back.” He refilled Drake’s cup. “If you’re really from somewhere else, you’d better warn your people before the Nelwyn finds them.”

  Drake could see that Guery believed what he was saying. “Have you tried talking to them?” “There’s no talking. Not to the Nelwyn. They think they own the whole bloody world.” “But if they were here first…” Drake paused. Better not to antagonize him. Clearly he did

  not like the Nelwyn. “So you think the war will end?”

  “Sooner or later. But who knows? I’m no soldier. No one tells us what’s going on out there. I’ve heard for years that it will end. It never does, though. I mean, take the past few months. Soldiers have been pulling out and going back to Malizar. Of course, folks around here think that means the Nelwyn are giving up. But if they’d seen what I’ve seen, they wouldn’t be so quick.”

  “What do you think it means, then?’

  “Some new weapon’s coming. That’s what I think. Last time it was the cannons. Time before, new rifles. Who knows what it’ll be next?”

  Drake nodded. This confirmed what the Nelwyn thought. Though perhaps it was not as devastating as they feared.

  “I know you can’t tell me where you’re from,” said Guery. “But at least tell me what it’s

  like.”

  “Not very different from here,” he lied. He went on to describe the outer provinces, assuming that telling him about Troi would not be the wisest thing to do, given the primitive way these people lived. He also left out cars, and any device he had not seen…which was nearly all of them. And of course he made no mention of mana.

  “Sounds a lot like home,” remarked Guery. “Though I guess you could always be lying…or insane.”

  Drake laughed. “I wonder that myself sometimes.”

  “Well, so long as you’re not in league with the Nelwyn.”

  “From what you said, they’d kill me before I got the chance to say a word.” “That they would.”

  They talked for a time longer, Guery taking a moment to call Lyal back in to bed.

  “You’ll need to tell folks you’re a scout for the Imperium,” he said as he was putting away the now empty wine bottle. “At least until you get to Malizar. But I have to warn you, if you’re caught, no one will believe your story. If you hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and did away with Manny and Hali, I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”

  “What would they do to me?”

  “They’d probably peg you as a deserter. Or a lunatic. Either sees you locked away in prison.”

  Guery rose from the table and started to the exit. Drake followed, and they made their way back to the next building where he’d be sleeping.

  “Thank you again for your help,” said Drake.

  Guery nodded. “Just trying to get even. You’ll need to wake up early tomorrow. I start at dawn, and it will get noisy in here.”

  After Guery turned off the lamps, Drake stretched out on the cot and recounted the days’ events. He had either stumbled on a bit of luck, or quite possibly doomed himself. The Bomar were not like he’d expected, at least not Guery and his son. They reminded him all too much of the people in Vale, and it made him wonder what would happen once they learned of the outside

  world. The Bomar technology he had seen thus far was primitive. He knew they had firearms, but so far he hadn’t seen one – though there could be any number of reasons for this. Still, they had pushed the Nelwyn to the brink of extinction.

  What would the people of Vale do? Drake wanted to believe that they would learn to share the world with the Nelwyn. But he feared they would behave no differently than the Bomar. And with the weapons they had, it would be a slaughter.

  No, he thought. Not if Lenora is on the throne. She would never allow it.

  As sleep took him, he pictured her in his mind and wondered what she was doing at that moment. The idea of her among the Nelwyn was curiously unsettling. His reason said that Guery had spoken from ignorance and bias. The Nelwyn had not appeared warlike. They had no real offensive weapons. What then? Why was he feeling the pull to believe Guery’s account? The answer made him feel ashamed. It was the same reason he had tended to believe someone from Troi over someone from the provinces, only now it was more pronounced. The Bomar looked like him, talked like him, were like him in obvious ways that the Nelwyn were not. That he was susceptible to such base feelings, those he detested in others, was a bitter pill to swallow.

  The morning arrived far too soon. Drake’s back ached and his head pounded from the previous night’s wine. The clanking of metal being tossed about sounded like a holoplayer being blasted into his ears.

  He sat up to see Guery rummaging through a pile of twisted iron a few feet from the other side of the wood.

  He smiled over to Drake. “Sorry to wake you. But I have to make three repairs today.

  There’s some food waiting on the table if you’re hungry.”

  Drake pushed himself up and stretched, joints cracking in protest. “You need any help?”

  “All I can get,” he replied. “But you’ll need to stay out of sight.”

  As Drake reached the rear exit, there was a loud boom of a fist hammering at the main entrance. After a quick look from Guery, Drake ducked outside, leaving the door ajar just enough to peer through.

  Guery took a nervous breath then pushed it open. A man in a blue tunic and red trousers, wearing the same silver triangle on his chest as the men in the forest, stepped inside.

  “What can I do for you, Jimmel?” said Guery

  “Two of my men went missing yesterday,” he replied, his expression and tone stern and authoritative. “I was told they were last seen on their way to find you.”

  Guery affected a puzzled expression. “Me? Why were they looking for me?” “Don’t play stupid.”

  Guery shifted his feet. “Look, I didn’t see them. I was with my son hunting mushrooms all

  day.”

>   Jimmel scrutinized him for a long moment. “Where is your son now?” “I sent him to buy salt. You can wait, if you want to talk to him.”

  “No. But if you see them…and they don’t cut your throat…tell them to report to me right

  away.”

  “I will.”

  The man turned to leave, then stopped. “On second thought, you don’t mind if I take a look around, do you?”

  “If you want. But I have work to do, so you’ll have to show yourself around.” Drake tensed. His sword and pack were next to his cot.

  A thin smile slowly appeared as Jimmel locked eyes with Guery. “Never mind. I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

  When the door closed, Guery staggered to a crate and leaned on his hands, breathing heavily. Drake entered and moved near to the cot.

  “He knows you’re hiding something,” said Drake. “I should leave.” Drake had seen the look Jimmel had given Guery before – the look of someone who knew a lie at a glance. He’d be back.

  Guery nodded. “Yes. That might be for the best. You can hide near the switching station until the transport arrives.”