by Lee LaCroix
“Thank you for getting us out of that bloody dungeon,” Vern offered, shaking Garreth’s hand.
“And thanks for helping us out here. I have a good idea how we could play this to Malquia’s advantage,” Garreth replied as he clasped their bound hands with his other.
“One last thing,” Garreth stated before the captain walked away and handed him a letter.
“I’ll make sure it’s delivered first thing,” Vern replied with a nod and then boarded the ship.
Garreth could hardly wait for that letter to land home and its response. In the meantime, he knew he’d be out in the market, questioning anyone and everyone about the man in tattered blacks and of crimson eyes. Hopefully, he would have a lead or two and would have to continue his journey onward, but not before the blood red sails of the Crown Aegis appeared on the horizon and made their new home in the seaside garrison.
Act Two
Chapter Eight
By the time the light from the flickering candle and the glow from the rising sun had become the same colour, Malic had just finished the concluding details of a letter upon a narrow scroll of parchment. With a careful finger, he flicked the excess ink off the feather before placing it on the table to the side of the message. With a steady hand, he scrawled his signature in a flowing motion and then took a final look over the parcel.
“Spymaster Galhaast,
My voyage to the far island has gone as successful as my last visit. Their martial leader, the one they call Berault, has fallen victim to my blade, and if he does not succumb to his wounds, the poison will surely finish him. My escape from the land was not unordinary, but I have come across the strangest thing on my travel from the port city to Erawal where I reside as I write this message. Two warriors, both equipped with armour of mursame and one of red hair, have begged my assistance in their travels. I have to believe that they both have traveled here from Malquia, and one may be a warrior of light as depicted in the battles under the Blackwoods lord. I request that a battalion be dispatched to the area to assist me in securing these two back to Vandar for trial, and to scout the area for any more of these travelers.
Forever faithful,
~ Malic the Red.”
Malic rolled the parchment up into the shape of a thick yet narrow scroll and secured a string around it. He whistled three times, and for a moment, stared out the window at the rising sun. Shortly, a falcon soared in front of the sun, its outstretched wings casting a flurry of sharp feathers as silhouette, before landing on the windowsill in front of him. He patted the falcon’s head twice as it bobbed around, tied the message to a loop on its collar, and then patted it away. Malic watched the bird fly off into the distance and then swiveled around to see his two guests in the bed. He would not kill them. No, a much more deserving punishment awaited, he thought. A sentencing passed down by the infinite glory and justice of Vandar. Malic figured he needed to bide his time to keep them in his sight, so he may trade them in for reward and put some distance on the death that followed him everywhere.
After all traces of the candle’s thin smoke or waxy aroma had left the room, Kayten awoke with a yawn and a stretch. She turned out of bed and rubbed at her eyes before noticing that Malic was not in the chair where she had last seen him. It only took her a short time to confirm that he had not continued on his travels as his travel pack still sat in the room’s corner. Her stomach began to growl as soon as she sat back down on the bed, and she wondered what she would do for food today. She doubted she could find fruit without stealing from farmer’s crops. She turned towards Novas to see how his recovery was proceeding.
“Novas. Novas. Awake,” she spoke as she nudged at his shoulder.
Novas turned away from the shadow of the wall and into the gathering brightness of the room. His eyes finally opened, and he glared at Kayten, focusing on his gaze.
“How do you feel?” she asked him as she put a gentle hand on his forehead.
“Better, but still a little groggy,” he replied.
“Well, come on. Try to stand,” she suggested.
Novas got to his feet but then stumbled into the table and fell into the chair.
“You better take it slow today. You look better,” Kayten said as she watched Novas take a deep swig of the canteen.
He took his lips away from the spout, swirled the canteen around, and found it empty.
“Looks like we’re running low. I’ll go grab some more. You just try to feel better,” Kayten offered before taking the canteen from Novas, pecking him on the forehead, and then walking out of the room.
Kayten found her place at the water’s edge between a trader refreshing his camel and two ladies from the village. As the bubbles from the canteen burst forth, she looked about at the wide stretch of water around her. On the far side of the water, a pair of tanned men washed themselves, wearing nothing but a burlap loincloth, and scrubbed themselves all over with a washing rag. They splashed themselves with the water, refreshing in the rising desert heat, and made their way back into the town soaking wet. Kayten drew back the hood on her robe, exposing her fiery, frizzy locks to the new day’s sun, and poured the water upon her head. She was surprised at how well it made her feel and how much focus it seemed to restore. As she was refilling the canteen, she caught sight of the two women to her right staring at her and the colour of her hair. She smiled at them, and they looked away as they continued to their washing, beginning to converse again.
“Did you hear about the northern forest?” one of them spoke as she rung the water from a garment.
“No, but I can guess, it’s getting worse isn’t it?” the other replied as she did the same.
“Yes. Basson says that it will only be a month or two before we can see it from the hill,” the first one explained, nodding towards the looming sand dune.
“All that red is killing the plants. Have you seen the pools of water? It looks just like blood,” the second one stated.
“All thanks to the damned Vandari and their damned mine,” the woman condemned.
“Shh, Sunyi, shh. You must not say that in public,” the other whispered as she looked around the oasis.
Kayten looked towards the top of the forested dune and saw nothing but the silhouette of green and gold trees against the blue sky. She was curious though. At the sound of the Vandari, mines, killing of plants, and blood red pools, she could only think about the devastation that was brought upon Deepshine during its occupation. Curiosity soon got the best of her, so she set off around the pond and waded her way through the bushes and long grasses past the border of the trees. Kayten spit and sputtered at the air as she came face to face with a swarm of buzzing insects floating eye level in the shade. She struggled, flapping her arms and hands around her, to dissuade them from following her any further. Before long, she came to a beaten path in the forest, wide enough that she presumed it was made by the locals, and followed it in a twisting way north. Soon, she was at the summit of the hill, looking down its opposite side. Even then, she could tell something was amiss.
When she finally arrived at the northern borders of the forest, she gasped at the sudden change to the flora and the earth that surrounded her. The leafy bushes around her turned to almost nothing as their leaves vanished and their uplifting branches withered and were streaked with eerie blood red veins. The trees around her carried the same scars. The bark of the palms had molted off, revealing a dead husk of wood below it, and was striped again with crimson marks. None of the leaves on any of the plants remained. A demented, shadeless area surrounded her as if torn from Kayten’s darkest dreams.
By the looks of the splintered wood panelling and the torn fabric of the window coverings, the housing there looked abandoned and derelict as if human life once thrived there but no longer did. A small pool rested between the shacks and gurgled as if it were a spring. Still, the strangest part was the water to Kayten. A dark red crust formed around the edges of the small pool. As she touched it, the delicate skin broke off and dissolve
d in the water. To her surprise and horror, the liquid swirled around like blood when she touched it. Kayten pulled her hand away but found that the pool had stained her. Kayten turned and ran all the way back to the clear pools where she could wash the haunting mark off of her.
Kayten returned to the Sand Rat and opened the door just in time to see Malic’s dagger fall from on high and sink into soft flesh, spraying crimson juices everywhere. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he continued to cut away at his victim without mercy, slicing it into pieces and revealing its tender innards. Kayten watched as the liquids seeped and poured off the table. Drip by glistening drip, a red pool formed on the floor.
“Ah, Kayten. Just in time,” Malic announced. “Pomegranate?”
“Yes, please!” she announced as she took a slice of the sweet fruit from him.
She thanked him and sat next to Novas on the bed, passing him the canteen. Novas gulped down the water, trying to clear the sticky sweetness that coated his mouth.
“You took long enough,” Novas said, breathing long and deep.
“I had to look at something I heard about down near the pond,” Kayten responded.
Novas rested against the wall and raised a curious eyebrow, and Malic watched her from the table as he munched on a melon slice.
“You and your father would be upset at what I have seen. Just around that high ridge from the city, the forest continues on a ways. There are houses near the northern border, now empty and in ruin, alongside a smaller pond. The trees no longer give it shade for their leaves have wilted and fallen away. The small hove has been tainted, for a red silt has mixed in with the water there and the plants that depend upon it. The stain sits upon the edge of the water. At the slightest movement, it turns the liquid to blood. Just look,” Kayten explained as she held up the hand that was still a shade redder than her other.
“Ah, the Bloodsands. Aside from the spoils of more irrigable land that the Vandar found in Kal’resh, they also happened to stumble upon a foreign mineral while constructing one of the first of their settlements, one which brought untold advancement and convenience to their labors. Bloodfire ore is what it is called in this region. Like its moniker, the stone is crimson red like our precious fluids. By a mistake and an explosion, it was found that bloodfire had a surprising quality. It would produce heat and fire if force was applied to it and even explode under the right circumstances. Bloodfire became very popular in the frigid regions of Vandar because it became the sole reagent to start fires, furnaces, and forges. As it was experimented with further, blacksmiths found that molten iron weapons would absorb bloodfire ore if it was mixed with quenching oil. Could you imagine a hammer that could toss a man with the strength of a roaring fire? It was also found if the ore was carefully processed into dust and pressed using chilled metals that it could be refined into solid shapes like pendants or rings,” Malic explained.
After Malic took the ring from his finger, he dragged it along the sandy stony wall, which left a trail of ashy black and lit the crimson core like a small sun. He then pressed the lit ring into the wick of a nearby candle, and it quickly flickered to life like did Malic’s smile at the sight of such invention.
“That’s very grand and exciting but what about the forest? What would cause the wood to become rotten and bloodied?” Novas replied.
“Due of explosive property of bloodfire ore, it was difficult to extract it from the earth initially. Workers could not use shovels, drills, or pickaxes to take it from the earth without receiving a painful reproach. It was eventually realized that soaking the ore with water would prevent it from igniting as it was dug from the earth, so the Order goes to great lengths in the desert to quench that required thirst. Although they would never admit it, it seems that the runoff from the mining process, the mixture of grinded bloodfire ore and water, seeps into the soil and poisons the earth around it, causing the blood-stained forests like the one just north of here,” Malic stated.
“So the mine is responsible for that terrible forest? The Vandari are? I heard some ladies speaking at the pond today. They said that the rot was climbing up the hill towards Erawal. Is it possible that the mine could one day pollute this oasis like the rest of the forest?” Kayten inquired.
“If what you say is true, then I have no doubt about it,” Malic uttered.
“Well, I have to go see it. This sickening reminds me too much of Deepshine and that is not something I will abide,” Novas stated as he stood up and reached for his sword.
“I think you should wait. If you run into the Vandari, you may not be so lucky,” Malic stated.
“I feel fine. The only ones who will need luck are the Vandari. Kayten,” Novas called as he headed towards the door.
Kayten nodded and followed after him, and Malic followed the two as well. They turned into the first alleyway outside the Sand Rat and made their way undetected to the gate of the town. They waited until a group of traders walked into the city, leading their camels inside by the reins, and Novas made his way through the gate between them. Even though his sunsteel armour shimmered on the sunlit sands, he hurried along the city walls to hide himself from the guards and then made his way towards the pond when it was safe. Before long, the three were making their way through the wood of bush and palms, and they only caught up to Novas when he came to a slowing stop at the edge of the crimson desolation. He pulled a withering leaf from one of the plants and chewed on it. His tongue dangled as he spat it from his mouth. He did not find the taste of earthen green but of something sour and acidic. Kayten led him to the small hove where the houses stood, and Novas swirled the water with a stick and frowned when it turned to blood. The earth was bleeding here, he thought; it was seriously injured.
Novas led them out of the shallow valley where the blood forest ended and towards the pillar of soot and smoke, ever-present and always disheartening, which he could see before he left the city. They traveled over the warm sands. Although his armour was hot to the touch, Novas was unimpeded by its weight or the heat because he desired to find the cause of this calamity. Kayten and Malic finally caught up to him at the top of the dune where he stared out over the next deep valley.
To him, the land was like an open, bloodied scar. For a distance surrounding the mine opening, the sand was stained black and red and reached out towards the desert in flecks and points, looking like a wound depicted on canvas. Novas watched as the carts of shining bloodfire were dragged out of the mine like blood pumping through the veins. He stared from afar and was angered and disgusted.
Garreth stood in the shade against the market wall, biding his time while the stable master finished up business. A man in Vandarian armour walked by and met Garreth’s eye, and they both nodded in return; the disguises were so foolproof even Garreth was alarmed for a moment. Even though the Vandari had not visited Nacosst since their garrison had been overthrown, the town seemed to be proceeding as naturally as usual. Although, as Garreth had not always been here, he could not actually tell if it was truly different. A camel spit and reared its head as it was pulled away by its new master, and Garreth approached the man who had sold it before he could make his way inside.
“Hello there, merchant. I have a question for you,” Garreth called out with a solid wave.
“Ah, a Malquian. How can I help you this day?” the man replied with a respectful bow.
“I’m looking for a man. Perhaps he was a customer of yours? Could have been by in the last four days,” Garreth explained to him.
“Four days is not long, but I see many people. What’s he look like?” the stable master asked.
“I am told he wears a tight, tapered garment of black cloth. He also has blood red eyes and uses long daggers for protection,” Garreth told him.
“Ah, black cloth, red eyes. Fairly common around here. Let me think,” the merchant said as he leaned against a post of the stable and crossed him arms.
“Oh yes. I do recall one man. Younger than I. Perhaps around your age. I think he had
just bought a new white robe in the market because before mounting the donkey that he bought from me, he cut it open with a sizable knife. So he could move around better, yes?” the man explained.
“I recall the pants that were exposed by the torn robe were black as well. I think his eyes were red, but I cannot be sure. I sold him a donkey. He was headed towards the oasis city of Erawal. Could this be the man you were looking for?” the stable master inquired.
“Possibly. Thank you for your time,” Garreth said with a nod and a shake of his hand.
It was the first clue he had had in his two days of searching the markets and the streets for information. It was only a hunch that the assassin had passed through here, but the stable master had provided him with two out of three of the distinguishing features, which was more than enough to convince Garreth to action. And the merchant had also known the customer was traveling to a place called Erawal. Garreth vowed to leave as soon as he could, but he was stuck in Nacosst waiting for something. At first, he heard the rapid pitter-patter of running feet, and then a red blur smeared beside him and ran in front. A figure in a familiar red cap and vest appeared, turned on its heel, and faced Garreth.
“They are here. They are here!” Ayden explained, waving Garreth to follow him.
Garreth nodded, hustled along at a light jog, and made his way through the harbour gates onto the salt-sprayed docks of Nacosst. Every detail of the Crown Aegis banner was visible at that distance. The symbolic rendition on the sails of the ship was close enough for Garreth to make out the diamonds in the crown or its shapely points. The cooling sea breeze pushed the second of the ships with the same red sails towards the dock a short distance behind the first. Garreth watched as the inscription of the Windwalker came into full view when the ship’s anchor was cast overboard and the sailors leapt off the deck and tied the ship to the posts of the dock. By the time the second ship, the Bluebreeze, had made its place in port, the gangplank of the Windwalker had slapped upon the docks, and a large figure stood at its peak looking down onto the docks.
