Dralin

by Carroll, John H.

  Frath looked down the street both ways, trying to decide what to do. The truth was that he still wanted to take her even though he knew it was a terrible idea. The pleading look in her eyes destroyed all sense and resistance. “Can you move quietly?” he asked mysteriously.

  “I think so. The slippers Purla gave me don’t make very much noise and neither do I.”

  “Alright. Promise you’ll stay with me at all times. If I tell you to get behind me, do so. If I tell you to fall to the ground, do so. If I tell you to kneel, do so. If I tell you to run, do so. Every command I give you will be for your safety and you must obey it instantly, without question. Is that clear?” Frath knew his voice was hard and firm, but she had to understand.

  “Yes, it’s clear,” she agreed timidly.

  “Promise that you will do what I say, no matter how scared you might be or even if you don’t understand it.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

  Frath looked around again. No one was paying them any attention. Instead of taking her back toward the Noble District where the inn and wisdom were, he led her toward the southwest and foolishness. For a little while, they strolled along streets bordered by estates of different sizes. Sheela was quiet with anticipation of the adventure she was certain they were going on, while Frath spent a great deal of time looking around for any signs of trouble.

  The estates gave way to smaller, but still nice, houses. Then those gave way to slightly more ragged buildings including various businesses: a grocer, furniture store and a market for spirits of high quality, or so the sign said. Others seemed to fascinate Sheela. She kept looking back and forth to either side of the street and down side streets. Frath didn’t care about any of that, instead keeping his eyes on the alleyways and rooftops. He spotted a couple of rogues who stared at him, but they made no move to interfere with his business.

  Being a guardsman gave him a certain amount of protection. It was a high crime to kill him and the entire City Guard would do everything in its power to find anyone who would commit the murder. At the same time, many of the criminal elements of Dralin were just as dangerous and to openly declare war on them would be foolish for the Guard.

  As a result, members of the Guard were required to act with dignity and diplomacy. It was a rule that they not insert themselves into danger unnecessarily. Walking with a pretty woman in some of the darker districts of Dralin was unnecessary danger. It was into one of those districts that Frath was leading her.

  The Merchant and Church Districts were the southernmost districts of the Ancient Six around the Tower District. The Orphan District bordered the bottom of both. The change wasn’t as drastic as moving from the Tower District to any other district, but it was noticeable.

  “Did we enter a different district?” Sheela asked, looking around nervously at the large, dark buildings surrounded by high walls.

  Frath realized he hadn’t told her anything and she certainly didn’t know her way around. “Yeah. This is the Orphan District. It’s where I grew up.”

  Her eyes widened. “It looks dangerous . . . and dirty.” Bits of trash floated along top of water in the gutters. The streets were still warm enough that the snow melted and ran into the sewers, but even that wasn’t enough to clean the streets. “Most of the buildings have walls around the yards and those that don’t, look like they have iron bars on windows and doors.” She pointed at a meager clothing store where the windows and doors did indeed have bars on them.

  Frath tried to imagine what it would be like to someone who hadn’t grown up among the shabby streets and orphanages that looked more like high security prisons than places to raise children. There was a prevailing sense of sadness that always lingered in the air, as though the city itself realized what tragedies had befallen these children.

  And it truly was tragedy. Thousands of children in the orphanages had lost their parents, whether to disease, abandonment or violent deaths in the streets. A sub-council of the High Council ran the orphanages. The truth was that most of those council members were corrupt, lower-ranking officials that, for a price, let profit-making merchants put their own employees in to manage the orphanages as cheaply as possible. They shuffled children between orphanages to keep things murky. Frath had lived in eighteen different ones throughout his childhood.

  Some of the more troubled kids lived in high security orphanages with barbed wire atop the walls. Those kids became hard and crafty to stay alive, adding to the criminal elements of the city in most cases. Frath had lived in one of those for a year before he killed a man. After that, they moved him to a special orphanage run in coordination with the City Guard.

  “Frath . . . Are we safe?” Sheela asked timidly, pushing close against his side as they walked.

  He jerked out of his reverie and looked around, mentally kicking himself for not being alert. There was a group of seven rough, young men on a street corner and they were sizing up Frath and Sheela. He sized them up in return as they walked through the intersection on the other side. “Yes, they’re not a match for me and they know it.”

  Sheela looked at him, back at the group, then at him again with admiration in her eyes. Frath had made the statement as a fact, not as a boast. The group was tough enough, but they had no real weapons or training. They would fight dirty, but the City Guard was trained to fight dirtier when the situation required it.

  The young men went in a different direction, throwing a few last glances over their shoulders. Sheela looked back at them, staring in curiosity. Frath noticed. “You don’t want to stare at people in Dralin.” She turned back to him and he clarified. “There are a lot of interesting people, but if you stare at them, they take it as a challenge or think you’re watching them to turn them in for something. Just avoid anything but minimal eye contact and you’ll stay a lot safer.”

  Sheela frowned in thought and looked back over her shoulder one last time. Then she nodded. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” The agreement only lasted a minute before she stared into an alley they passed. A group of shadowy figures hunched over another on the ground. “Frath, should we do something?”

  “I can’t. I’m not allowed to be here alone and it could be a trap. I’ll be kicked out of the guard if I interfere.”

  They walked past the alley and its mysterious figures. Frath glanced back a couple of times to make sure no one would follow them. He didn’t like walking by, but had learned early on that he wouldn’t be able to save everyone. That knowledge ate at him a little bit each time though. Sheela kept looking behind them. What bothered Frath the most was that she repeatedly glanced at him with disappointment on her face.

  A few people traveled on the streets with their heads down, trying to get to their destination safely. The clouds obscured the setting sun, bringing night along a little sooner. A lamplighter accompanied by a swordsman to keep him safe was lighting lanterns. Kids who weren’t locked away in their orphanages for the night lurked through shadows rather than playing in the streets. Frath remembered the days when he used to lurk. He never joined any of the gangs, finding ways to be alone instead. He still preferred to be alone most days, although he liked being with Sheela even more.

  The street ended at a towering wall lined by neglected buildings, some of which were houses whereas others were seedy shops open at night rather than the day. Frath led her south into a poorly lit, narrow alley between some of the more ragged buildings. When Sheela plastered herself to his side, he knew she was re-thinking the wisdom of going on a dangerous adventure with him. At that point, it would be more dangerous to go back than to go forward though, so he continued.

  Sheela gave a little squeak when a rat bigger than her head ran across the ground in front of them. A few others prowled along the edge of buildings, much as the orphans had done in the streets past. Puddles of grimy water combined with strewn trash to make the walk unpleasant while pungent odors of food too rotten for vagrants attacked the nose.

  “Coin for food?” a voice c
roaked from underneath some blankets, eliciting another squeak from Sheela. Frath looked at the milky eyes of a blind beggar huddled in a corner and moved on quickly. Once again, Sheela stared. There didn’t seem to be anything he could say to stop her from doing so.

  There was no snow in the alley due to the fact that upper levels of the buildings were so close together above them. Melt water dripped down through openings and Frath did his best to shield Sheela from it. The tunnel he was looking for was on the right. Iron bars had once kept people out, but they were rusted and half fallen, giving them room to pass. Sheela resisted for a second before reluctantly going into the darkness. An instant later, only dim reflections of light shone from unknown sources. The echo of their footsteps splashing in unavoidable puddles was the only sound. Moss and mold was strong in the nostrils, indicating that few people walked through.

  It didn’t take long for them to reach another alley. It didn’t have so much trash, but it was darker and gloomier as though the buildings were holding up a great burden that was too much to bear.

  Frath turned south again, walking as quietly as possible. The soles of his boots were thick to protect against rough terrain and debris, but at the same time they were made to bend and land softly, muffling his steps. Sheela walked quieter, startling at every little sound or skitter of rat feet.

  The alley let out onto a street, but the darkness didn’t go away as much as one might have expected. The sun had set and only the red moon, Piohray, was out that night, although it was full. The effect was that it made the clouds glow a dim pink color, casting a surreal illumination over the foreboding streets.

  “Why aren’t the lanterns lit?” Sheela asked in a harsh whisper that seemed to roll clumsily along the cobble in front of them.

  “Lamplighters don’t come to the Forlorn District,” Frath told her, not speaking loudly at all. “People foolish enough to enter it tend to disappear.”

  Sheela stopped to glare at him in disbelief. “Then why are we here?” she whispered.

  “Because you said you wanted to stay with me tonight and do the other dangerous thing. This is the other dangerous thing,” Frath pointed out matter-of-factly. “We’re almost there.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll see when we get there,” Frath told her, tugging her along.

  She continued to glare, but followed quickly. “What are those shapes?” she asked, pointing at a group of hunched shadows down a side street.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Frath replied. “There are a lot of things that aren’t understood here. It’s best not to investigate.”

  “Are they people?” she asked with panic rising in her voice. “I don’t see any people. Where are all the people?”

  “People don’t come here. We’re in the Forlorn District.” Frath told her much more casually than the situation probably called for. He had been coming here since childhood and actually liked the place, even though he had never seen another living, normal person in it. “A few centuries ago, the High Council had it walled off to keep people out because it’s so haunted that even a consortium of priests couldn’t exorcise the ghosts and whatever else is here.”

  “So we’re not supposed to be here?” Sheela asked in alarm.

  “Nope.” Frath answered.

  “Is that a ghost?” she asked in a shaky voice, pointing fearfully at a pair of glowing human figures that were staring at them from a window, even though they didn’t have eyes to stare with.

  “No, it’s two ghosts. They’ll probably leave us alone. Ghosts aren’t that dangerous anyways. There are other things a lot worse.”

  “Probably? . . . Worse? . . .” Sheela had a death grip on his arm by that point and he was pretty sure that if anything came at her, she would probably crawl up his back and over his head to get away.

  “Here’s our destination,” Frath told her, pointing at an ominous building ahead. It was an ancient two-story church with a tall steeple at one end. Dark stones made up the walls and it had a red, iron shingled, A-frame roof that was rusting. Past rains falling on the roof had left red trails down the stone, making it appear as though the church was bleeding.

  Crows stared at them from the eaves and the low stone wall surrounding it. Frath led Sheela past a rusted iron gate lying ineffectively on the ground nearby. The sparse grass was brown and covered with a dusting of snow, while the skeletons of trees looked as though they had never had leaves.

  “This doesn’t look like a very pleasant place,” Sheela said apprehensively.

  “Well . . . yes and no. It’s a safe place for me though. I found it when I was very young. I ran away from some guys who were going to kill me.” They reached the arched double doors, which were grey with black carvings of crows surrounded by curving rose stems. The petals on the roses were purple as were the eyes of the crows. It was the only color on them, but Frath had never figured out what material it was. He opened the left door easily. Neither door ever made a sound, which had always fascinated him. “I went through that tunnel back there. The guys weren’t brave enough to follow me into the district. It scared me too, but I knew I would die if I went back, so I tried to find another way out.”

  Inside were twenty rows of dark stone pews to either side. A pure-black stone statue of a hooded woman kneeling on a dais was at the end of the aisle. When they entered, the statue looked up with glowing purple eyes that radiated vast power throughout the church. Sheela gasped, wrapped her legs around Frath’s waist and grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to scale his height. Frath felt the statue gaze into his soul before it went back to its praying position.

  “Fraaaathhhh!” Sheela wailed in terror.

  “It’s alright. We’re welcome here,” he reassured her. It didn’t do much good. Her feet hit the ground, but she buried her face in his chest and trembled from fright. “This is the Church of Distra, Goddess of Sorrow. I like her a lot and she tolerates me.”

  Sheela looked up at him, brow furrowed in bewilderment. “Goddess of Sorrow? I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Most people haven’t. She doesn’t like for people to know about her.” Frath thought about it for a moment. He looked down at Sheela. “Don’t tell anyone about her, actually. She’s letting you in, but it’ll upset her if you go around telling people.”

  “Oh . . . alright.” Sheela let go of him, relaxing more quickly than he had expected. She stepped forward down the aisle a little bit, folded her arms and stared at the statue for a moment. The statue didn’t react. Frath stood there quietly, waiting to see how Sheela would respond.

  She walked up the aisle a little ways, looking around at the tall arched windows along the wall. Multiple pieces of red and purple glass were set in iron framework within each window. “Frath, is there someone here?”

  “No. There’s never anyone here. Why do you ask?” Frath looked around carefully to see if anyone else might have shown up.

  “The candles are lit.” She pointed at iron candleholders lined along the wall and at tables with stepped shelves to either side of the statue. They all had candles with violet flames that flickered dimly, making the shadows dance slowly.

  “No. Those are always lit. Distra’s divine power keeps them aflame.” He walked up to her, put his left hand on the small of her back and his right hand on her shoulder. Frath wanted to be close to her, but mentally vowed he would immediately back away if anything made her uncomfortable.

  She leaned back into his hands, showing no discomfort at all. “I’m curious why you like Distra instead of another god.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life. They make me sad to the point where my entire body hurts. When I’m here, that hurt feels good.” Frath ran his right hand slowly down her arm to the elbow.

  She turned unhurriedly and put her own hands on his waist. “It feels good to hurt?” she asked in confusion.

  “You say it differently than I mean it, but yeah. When I went through that tunnel the first time and found this district, strange thin
gs happened.” He ran both hands up her arms to her shoulders. It pleased him a lot when she moved hers up and down his sides even with the chain shirt muffling the sensation. “Things started appearing on the streets. They were hunched over like those things we saw outside.” Using his right hand, Frath caressed her cheek and neck, drawing a soft sigh of pleasure from her. “Then I saw a couple of Deformed down another street. Ghosts didn’t just stand behind the windows, they floated through the sky. Even with all that, I wasn’t willing to go back. I ran until I found this church.”

  “How old were you?” Sheela asked. She pulled at his shirt and sighed in frustration at the chainmail underneath.

  “I was eight. Let’s go upstairs.” He took her hand and led her around the raised dais. Along the back wall were a few rooms and a door that led to a spiral staircase with purple-flamed candles in brackets on its walls. They went up that to a corridor on the second level above the church. From there he took her to the end of the passage where there was a silver door with gold etching. It was the only bright thing in the entire building. As far as he knew, it was made entirely of silver and gold. The etching was similar to the entry to the church, with a crow and rose stems.

  When he was a child, it had been locked. Then one day after he had been coming for a few years, it suddenly opened for him. Now he had access to every room in the church, including the basement with its secrets.

  “What is this room?” Sheela asked as they entered. She looked at a dark tapestry that took up the whole wall to the left. It was a crow and roses motif like nearly everything else about the church. More iron candleholders were lit, two against each wall of the big room.

  “I don’t know. It was a sleeping quarters of some sort. There’s a hole in the roof over there.” He pointed at the far corner to the right. “But other than that, it’s still in good shape. I have blankets and pillows over on this side,” he told her, pointing behind them at the opposite corner near the wall the door was on.