The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  The sight of it renewed William. He led his horse faster, finding a burst of energy. When they reached the cold, clear water, he kept hold of the horse’s reins and reached down past the banks, splashing his face. He smiled. It was the first smile Kirby had seen him wear since Brighton.

  Kirby bent down next to him, holding onto the horses’ rope while filling her flask with the gurgling water.

  “We might as well get our fill while we can,” Kirby said, returning his smile.

  William finished his water and looked up and down the banks. He looked at the sky, then back at Kirby. It seemed as if he had more questions. “Do you ever miss your homeland?”

  “You mean my real home? Before the settlement?” Kirby asked.

  “Yes, that one,” William said.

  “I have a few good memories there, but mostly when I was young, before I knew the ways of the world.”

  “Before you were infected,” William guessed.

  Kirby nodded. “Much of the land was scarred by war, as I told you. My parents were taken away before I was your age.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They were infected and forced to fight in one of the worst wars. They died.” She lowered her head. “I spent the rest of my childhood living with different relatives, most of whom didn’t have enough food to feed me. When it came time for a choice between feeding me and their children, they passed me along to someone else. And so it went, until I was old enough to live on my own.”

  “I see.” William nodded sympathetically.

  “But I do have a few memories I carry with me,” she said, a faint smile returning to her face. “I remember my father taking me to a waterfall that seemed enormous to me when I was younger. I remember holding his hand as we got close enough to the edge of the river that I could feel the spray of the water.”

  “Was the waterfall as big as the dam we passed on the way here?”

  “Not that big.”

  “Did you have dams that big in your homeland?”

  “We had lots of enormous buildings that the people you call the Ancients made. Many of them were destroyed, but others were intact. Some we built.”

  William looked at her curiously, seeming as if he was holding back a question. “You always refer to them as the people we call the Ancients. I don’t understand that. What did your people call them?”

  Kirby looked at him a moment, the smile staying. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “You seem to know a lot of things that the people of Brighton don’t know. I think I would believe you.” William watched her with a curiosity she hadn’t seen on his face in a while.

  Kirby looked around, ensuring no one else was close by, even though they probably wouldn’t understand what she was about to say. “The people you call the Ancients are us, William. We are the Ancients.”

  William opened and closed his mouth, looking as if he was digesting some unbelievable information. Or maybe he was putting pieces together of something he’d suspected all along.

  “They are our ancestors, living for generations before us, creating life, or destroying it, doing the same things back then that we are doing now. Talking. Living. Eating. Doing what they needed to sustain themselves until age or war took them.” Kirby watched William’s reaction.

  “I can’t believe that,” he whispered.

  “They—we—built the place you call the Ancient City, and many, many others all across the lands here, and in lands neither of us have seen.”

  “If that is true, then that means our people created Tech Magic. How is that possible?”

  Kirby smiled. “Our people built those things the same way you build a cart, or a house made of stone. They just used different materials, and lots of different knowledge, much of which has been lost. But not all of it.”

  “So the things we call Tech Magic really aren’t Tech Magic at all?” William’s face was filled with wonder.

  “That is true.” Kirby couldn’t help but keep her smile. “You are a quick learner, William.”

  “I don’t think anyone I ever knew would believe that.”

  “You’re probably right,” Kirby said. “Don’t tell Bray, okay? He likes to think he knows everything. It is amusing to watch.”

  William’s face remained incredulous as he looked up at the sky, and then down at the stream. “I could spend the rest of my life here, listening to you talk. I feel like I have so much to learn.”

  “That would be nice, William,” Kirby said, a sad smile crossing her face as she splashed more water over it. “But we should probably get going.” When she opened her eyes and her vision cleared, she saw several men emerging from the trees down the stream, watching. They looked away when Kirby spotted them, pretending as though they were talking. “Let’s get back to the house, William.”

  Chapter 40: Kirby

  When Kirby and William made it back to the house, they were surprised to find Bray sitting in the only chair. He’d taken off his boots, and his hair was wet and slicked back, as if he’d washed it somewhere. At his feet were several squirrels.

  “I brought dinner. It’s probably not as good as the fish you had earlier,” Bray said, tilting his head to show that he smelled the odor in the air, “but it’ll fill our stomachs.”

  Kirby still hadn’t fully forgiven him for leaving most of the day, but she was in no mood to start a new argument. And he’d gotten food, which for a man like him, was as close to an apology as she was going to get. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

  Bray shrugged. “Like I said, I have no plans to leave. It took me a while to hunt. And I actually got some exploring done. I found out some things.” He briefed them on what he’d heard from Jaydra, as well as what he’d learned about The Important Ones. Then he told them about the second island. “It seems like what Jaydra said was true. Where did you go?”

  “We were off getting water in the stream,” William explained.

  “You were right about the guards,” Kirby said. “Men watched us when we went to the water.”

  “I told you,” Bray said.

  “Flora admitted they’re afraid of us. They’re being careful.”

  Bray nodded. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing. Even still, we should keep a close eye out. Are you feeling better, William?”

  “A little,” William said.

  “His fever broke before we left. And I think the walk to the stream did us good,” Kirby said.

  “You missed the healer,” Bray said. “She just left. She brought some things.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a pile of dried herbs and placed them on his lap. “Do you know what these are, William?”

  “Echinacea and lavender,” William said without hesitation. “They’re good for people with winter sickness.”

  “She said we can put them in some tea, and they might help.” Bray looked at the herbs. “I usually don’t believe in that crap, but that paste changed my mind.”

  “Whatever fear these people have, they haven’t tried to harm us,” Kirby said with a weary sigh. “We should get some good rest tonight. Flora suggested we join one of their hunting parties, depending on how long we stay. She said it might be good to earn our keep. She was going to mention it to Bartholomew. Most of them leave in the morning.”

  “Probably not a bad idea. We can hunt with them until William gets better. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet this Deacon, whenever he decides to show up. If we see something we don’t like, we can fight our way out of here with your Tech Magic and my sword.”

  Chapter 41: Flora

  The sky was dark as Flora hurried across the wooden bridge leading to the second island, carrying a burning torch in one shivering hand. She couldn’t see the water below her, but she could feel the cold coming off it, stinging her face and creeping under her jacket.

  She’d only been on this side of the bridge once, when she was asking for permission to leave the settlement. She’d never been among The Important Ones longer than t
hat.

  She hurried past a few of the watchmen—the only people awake at this hour—and nodded. No one stopped her or spoke to her. They knew she was coming. A while ago, one of Deacon’s Trusted men had woken her and instructed her to get dressed and report here. That man had left before she could ask any more questions.

  She looked over her shoulder, wondering if he was following.

  Was this a test?

  She couldn’t help but think she’d made a mistake in coming back. Perhaps she was living the last moments of her life. Her heart hammered as she considered that she might die an insufferable death, worse than she might’ve received from the Halifax men. For a split second, she considered running the other way, but she knew she’d never make it further than Deacon’s men allowed. Even if she escaped from the island before she was caught, Becca and Bailey would be punished for her transgressions.

  She passed a few more men peering out over the water, holding their torches low so as not to attract any wandering Savages. A few glanced in her direction, their expressions unreadable. Perhaps they were already guessing which direction the meeting would take.

  When Flora reached the other end of the bridge, two men ushered her along the pathway and to one of the island’s two buildings, the one on the left. Before entering, one of the men extinguished Flora’s torch. The other checked for weapons. Verifying that she was unarmed, they creaked open a door and led her down a windowless, dark corridor.

  One man took the lead; the other walked behind.

  Dark shapes hung on the walls, little more than passing shadows as she was ushered past them. Some looked like artifacts that had been pulled from the rubble—strange, twisted pieces of metal, things her people had brought back to Deacon and given as gifts, things that she assumed had uses, though she had no idea what those uses might be.

  Flora’s body still ached from her battle with the Halifax men and her long journey in the forests. Her bruised face and broken nose were proof of her bravery, but it wouldn’t mean anything without the offering. The guard in front glanced back at her, making sure she was still there.

  As they reached the end of a long hall and approached a door, the leading guard knocked, and a muffled voice from within gave the order to enter. The man swung open the door, ushered Flora inside, and then closed it, leaving her to face her fate.

  Chapter 42: Flora

  The man in the room was so silent that Flora might’ve sworn she was alone, if she hadn’t seen him in the chair behind the desk. A single torch hung on the wall, providing just enough light to see the man’s silhouette, facing her direction. Long, gray hair fell over his face. She could barely see his eyes, but memory filled in the gaps. She’d seen Deacon plenty of times, presiding over the ceremonies or leading her people to battle.

  But she’d only seen him once in this room—and on this island.

  She searched his desk for the object that had been the source of rumors ever since she’d been alive, but all she saw was a long, bumpy shadow, the same thing she’d seen the last time she’d been here.

  Someone shifted in the hallway. The soldiers were lurking on the other side of the door, awaiting an order.

  Flora fell to a knee.

  “Do you have the offering?” Deacon asked.

  Flora opened her mouth, fear almost preventing her from speaking. “I don’t,” she managed.

  Her confession hung in the air. She was supposed to bring back the skin of a man from Halifax to be considered for marriage.

  They both knew it.

  So did the guards in the hall, who were probably awaiting the command to drag her off and subject her to whatever punishment Deacon saved for people like her. She’d never heard of anyone coming back without a skin.

  Not alive, at least.

  The rules of the tradition had been ingrained in Flora since she was a little girl, peering at the second island from the other side of the wood bridge, dreaming of the man she’d wed and the children she’d bear once she completed the offering, eventually claiming her place among The Important Ones, if she lived long enough. The tradition was expected of all women. Everyone in The Arches fought. Everyone learned how to survive.

  Hoping she hadn’t made a fatal mistake in coming back, she said, “I intended to get the offering, until I met the strangers.”

  “The rules only allow for a skin of your enemy, once you you leave and the tradition begins,” Deacon said.

  “I understand.” Flora hung her head subserviently.

  “Do you remember the verses?”

  Flora swallowed the lump in her throat. “Every bond is forged in blood, whether it is the birth of a child, the skinning of an animal’s flesh to eat, or the blood of an enemy to bless a marriage.”

  Silence again.

  Flora hoped her memorization of the sacred lines would buy her more time to speak.

  Deacon shifted in his chair. He said nothing.

  Another noise came from the hallway, imperceptible if Flora hadn’t been listening for it, waiting for the door to open and rough hands to whisk her from the chamber. At any moment, Deacon would speak the commands that would punish her for coming back too soon. I failed you, Becca and Bailey. She gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. When the silence was unbearable enough that she almost couldn’t stand it, she opened her mouth, ready to make a final plea for her life, but Deacon interrupted.

  “I’ve heard about these people, and the god weapons. I’ve heard about the boy who can speak to Savages. You did a commendable thing, bringing them back.”

  Flora hoped that those words might exempt her from the ritual, or at least buy her more time to complete it. Her knee ached from kneeling, but she knew better than to stand.

  “Tell me everything that happened since you left.” Deacon adjusted in his chair.

  Flora said, “Anya and I tracked two of the Halifax men through the forests, looking for a place to ambush them.”

  “Anya was the girl I sent you out with,” Deacon recalled.

  “Yes. She was my sister. We left here as soon as you gave us permission. It took us a while to locate a few of the men, but we finally did, and we followed them, trying to kill them for their skins. When the time was right, we attacked them and fought bravely, but Anya lost her weapon, and we were forced to regroup.”

  “Not too bravely, if you failed,” Deacon said, letting his comment hang in the air. Flora swallowed. She waited until he said, “Continue.”

  “The men tracked us up the coast, and we stumbled on a place we’ve never seen. It was some sort of town, surrounded by burnt wooden walls and filled with towers several levels high. Bodies of people and Savages lay everywhere, in towers, and around lots of smaller houses. It looked like a large battle had happened sometime earlier. Down by the shore were a handful of giant water houses, bigger than the ones the hunters found in the cove all those years ago. We found one with a hole in the side and we hid in it.”

  “Bartholomew told me about the place,” Deacon said with a nod. “We have scouts on the way to locate it. What happened after that?”

  “We hid for a while in one of the rooms, until Anya could recover. But the men discovered us. We attacked them. One of them broke my nose.” Flora gestured to her bruised, beaten face, hoping the evidence would confirm her story, even though it wouldn’t buy her sympathy. “The battle spilled onto the beach. One of the men shot Anya with an arrow, killing her. Before I could retaliate, the strange woman named Kirby appeared and killed the men from Halifax.”

  “She used the god weapons,” Deacon surmised.

  “Yes,” Flora said. “The weapons put holes in the men and drew their blood. They killed them without the woman touching them. Not the way you might with an arrow, but with something you could hardly see, because it flew too fast.”

  “Incredible,” Deacon said, shifting in his chair. “Bartholomew and Jonathan spoke the truth.”

  The reaction gave Flora a pinprick of hope that she might survive until morning. Clu
tching on to that small hope, she added, “The woman has two god weapons, a longer one and a small one. I saw her use the larger one, but she tucks the other in a pouch on her pants. She protects them.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Deacon said.

  “I thought about trying to take them while she was asleep, but I assumed it would be better to get her back here alive.”

  “It sounds as if she is better off alive than dead. We will need to know how to use them.” Deacon scratched his chin.

  Flora felt a wave of relief at what might’ve been considered another failure.

  “What were the man and boy doing during this attack?”

  “They were elsewhere in the settlement. Perhaps they were in one of the towers or houses, or outside the settlement wall. They joined us when the Halifax men were dead.”

  “Bray and William,” Deacon said, reciting the names Bartholomew must’ve told him. “Tell me about the boy, William, who can speak to Savages.”

  “He seems wise in the ways of tracking, for someone so young. He came from a town called Brighton, along with the man. He knows how to ride a horse. He’s smart.”

  “And he sends Savages away with his voice.” Deacon’s tone said he didn’t believe it.

  “Yes. I witnessed him do it by a stream. We were attacked by a group of Savages and he commanded them to leave.” Flora fell silent as she realized how far-fetched her story sounded.

  “Perhaps they were distracted by an animal, or another group of men.” Deacon nodded as if he’d found the answer.

  “We were alone,” Flora said, with as much sincerity as she could project. “And we stayed that way for the rest of the night. None of the Savages returned.”

  Deacon remained silent. “We will need to test this boy’s power. Are you sure these people are alone?”