Foundations Broken and Built

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Silas nodded a silent acknowledgement.

  “So tell me more about your mule friend,” she changed the subject.

  “Well, he’s practically saved my life a time or two,” Silas offered. “The first time I escaped from captivity in Ivaric, my knife and my mule saved my life! My knife broke into the dungeon and set me free, then Hron told me where the caravan was so that I could find it and escape from the city.”

  “So as long as you’ve got those two, maybe you don’t need me after all?” Riesta asked teasingly.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Silas protested. “I’m sure there’s something you can do that the mule can’t!” he laughed.

  “We’ll see about that,” the Mover growled darkly.

  That night, when the caravan came to a stop, Ruten appeared at Silas’s wagon. “Get your mule tended to, then find a stick for sword practice,” the guard ordered. “I want to see how far you’ve fallen behind.”

  “What’s that mean?” Riesta asked when Ruten moved on.

  “That means bruises and welts,” Silas sighed. “He’s the best swordsmanship teacher you could suffer under.” He dutifully found a branch that he broke into the proper length and tended to Hron’s care before finding Ruten’s lantern illuminating a circle of bare ground, while Riesta idly stood by.

  “Let’s begin,” Ruten abruptly plunged directly into the exercise, swinging his own highly polished wooden shaft with smooth and practiced ease. Silas was on the defensive from the very beginning, and lost the first two protracted matches before he finally managed to best Ruten in the third. The contests were narrated by a running stream of comments from Ruten on the flaws and quirks in Silas’s style.

  “You two are quite the entertainment,” Riesta commented as the pair finished their work for the evening. She had watched the two contestants intently.

  “You ought to join us,” Silas quickly suggested.

  “That’s a good idea lass,” Ruten seconded, giving Riesta a knowing grin. “Bring a stick of your own tomorrow night.”

  “Why do I need to learn swordsmanship?” Riesta asked Silas as they walked back to their wagon’s parking spot.

  “Don’t you know how to fence already?” Silas asked innocently.

  “Everyone who goes through training to be a Mover receives training in swordsmanship,” Riesta answered quickly.

  “Are you good?” Silas asked. He hadn’t ever seen Riesta handle a sword that he could remember. She’d always been too able to easily wield her powers in situations of conflict.

  “I was as good as anyone else in the class,” she retorted defensively. “Where are we going to sleep tonight?” she changed the subject as they reached the wagon.

  Silas leaned into the wagon and reached beneath the drivers’ bench, from which he pulled out a bundle of blankets. There was only a single bundle present.

  “I’ll walk up to Prima and get a second bundle for you,” he sighed.

  “We can share the blankets,” Riesta responded matter-of-factly. “You’re not going to try anything inappropriate, are you?” she asked,

  “No, of course not,” he replied.

  “And neither am I,” Riesta stated. “So there’s no harm in sharing the blankets and the body warmth, is there?”

  Silas shook his head in agreement, and they settle down in a spot under the wagon, Silas conscious of Riesta’s movements and proximity until he finally fell asleep.

  Three days later they crossed the frontier into Ivaric itself. Riesta had managed to acquit herself reasonably well in her first sword work matches with Ruten, although Silas suspected that the guard leader had held back the full strength of his abilities.

  During the days, Silas was visited by many of his former caravan coworkers, who had heard of his various exploits and been made aware by Prima and Ruten of the major accomplishments that he had achieved. Several of the males came back for subsequent visits to see Riesta as well, as the caravan rumor mill debated whether she and Silas were a romantic couple.

  Riesta watched the tentative efforts to court her with bemusement.

  “They do this to every new female that joins the caravan?” she asked as their wagon pulled out of camp one morning after breakfast, where several members of the crew had jostled to serve her and draw her attention.

  “There aren’t many new females that do join the caravan,” Silas replied. “They have to give it a try when there is a new attractive girl,” he said gamely.

  “Do you think I’m attractive?” Riesta asked with a grin.

  Silas paused for a moment, as he thought of the first time he’d seen Riesta. She’d been raising a lift in Faralag, giving a ride to the people who needed to reach the upper floors of one of the city’s extraordinarily tall buildings. A child had fallen off the lift, and Silas had saved the little boy. Riesta had been pretty then, and she was prettier now, Silas felt. Her hair had grown longer since he’d seen her then, and she wore everyday clothes instead of the calm blue robe of a Faralag Mover. But she was open and honest in her person, someone who Silas believed would never tell him a lie for any reason; it wasn’t in her nature.

  “Yes, you are,” he admitted. “And you know it!” he gave her a playful shove on the shoulder to burst any potential for the conversation to grow intimate – he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to develop romantic feelings for another woman. His previous entanglements had proven to be problematic so far.

  She grinned. “It’s good to know you feel that way. Since we’re sleeping together, as I told the other men.”

  “You told them that? But they’ll think,” he didn’t finish the sentence.

  “They will,” Riesta agreed, “and they’ll leave me alone. None of them are going to try to further dally with the paramour of the great Abomination!”

  When the caravan reached the border with Ivaric, Silas slipped away from his wagon at a half mile’s distance from the boundary gate and fence. He used his powers to lift himself high overhead and far off in the distance from the gate, then crossed the boundary and rejoined the caravan a mile inside the dangerous nation.

  He was a step closer to his goal. Just a few more days of riding north through the countryside would bring him to the city where he wanted to confront both Ivaric’s leaders and their evil, adopted new religion.

  “Silas the Abomination, Silas, this is Jimes, the unofficial Speaker of the new regime in Avaleen, with a message for you,” a Wind Word message suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

  Silas’s head rose suddenly in response, startled by the unexpected communication.

  “What is it, Silas?” Riesta asked.

  “Silas, I am passing along news from Amenozume. I received a message from Sloeleen, who I have been trading daily messages with. Sloeleen reports that Amenozume is sending an army directly to Ivaric to invade the country, as a way to assist you.

  “I have been giving Sloeleen reports of what has happened here, and how you have left the city to fight Ivaric directly. Princess Lumene has convinced her mother that she should help you after you helped Amenozume,” Jimes reported. “The Princess is traveling with the army on the flagship of their fleet.”

  “That’s idiotic!” Silas exclaimed.

  “She’s sending a fleet, an army to invade Ivaric, to help me!” he reported to Riesta, as Jimes’s message came to an end. “She’ll get people killed!”

  “You found out about the fleet?” Riesta asked in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “You knew about the fleet?” Silas turned to face the Mover. “How did you know? You’re not a Speaker!” he stated in shock.

  “I,” she paused, “I have other ways of gaining information. I cannot say more than that.”

  Silas sat in stunned silence for a moment, then returned to the more immediate matter at hand.

  “But this is stupid – ridiculous! It’s putting all those lives in danger! Can you make them stop and turn the fleet around?” he asked.

  “I am not in a position to order
a royal personage to change a decision,” Riesta pointed out. “I am subject to them, not the other way around.

  “You are a Speaker, one with special abilities,” she counterpointed. “You can speak directly to her and her fleet yourself, can’t you?”

  “Not unless I know precisely where they are,” Silas answered. “If I send my message in the wrong direction, it will never be heard. And the ocean is a vast place; I can’t begin to guess where they are located.”

  “What can we do?” Silas said in anguish. “I don’t want those men and women to die!”

  “Maybe,” Riesta said slowly, “maybe you should trust the Queen’s decision. Perhaps there is more afoot than you know.”

  “I trust the Queen,” Silas answered dismissively. “It’s the Princess I don’t trust. She’s making the decisions, and I’m worried about her safety too,” he admitted.

  “What princess?” Riesta asked in confusion.

  “Lumene, Princess Lumene, of course,” Silas answered.

  He paused, as he digested the meaning of Riesta’s confusion.

  “Who did you think I was talking about?” he asked.

  “I meant Princess Lumene, of course,” Riesta quickly replied.

  Silas pulled on the reins, stopping the wagon, as the rest of the trading caravan continued to roll along.

  “No you didn’t!” Silas exclaimed. “You were talking about someone else, someone else bringing a fleet to invade Ivaric. Who was it?”

  Realization dawned as Riesta remained silent.

  “Faralag? Queen Preeanne? Is the Queen sailing a fleet from Faralag all the way up to Ivaric? I thought Faralag remained out of the affairs of the rest of the continent!” Silas spoke passionately to his companion. “Are you telling me the Queen is leading a fleet?”

  “And you mean to say there’s another fleet coming from Amenozume?” Riesta replied. “Two invasion fleets approaching Ivaric at once?”

  “It will be a catastrophe!” Silas exclaimed.

  “Or it may work,” Riesta pointed out. “Double the forces attacking – they probably will land in different places, stretching Ivaric’s attention and army out. The ruler and his evil god will be distracted from watching for you.”

  “What’s the holdup back here?” Ruten’s voice imposed on the pair who sat alone. Silas look up and saw that the rest of the caravan had moved nearly out of sight while the two Movers had shared their state of confusion.

  “Ruten!” Silas shouted. He needed to tell the guard of the surprising information. He looked at Riesta, hoping for her input, some comment to confirm that he should share the surprising news of the invading fleets that were sailing the ocean.

  Riesta ran her fingers through her hair in a sign of her own confusion, then shrugged.

  “Ruten, there are ships sailing to Ivaric to launch an invasion in support of my mission,” Silas announced breathlessly.

  The guard’s horse arrived next to the wagon, and Ruten turned it around, so that he faced the same direction as the other two.

  “If there’s nothing wrong with the wagon, why don’t you put your mules to work and start moving?” he asked.

  Silas mechanically flicked his reins. “Did you hear me?” he asked incredulously. “There are going to be thousands of lives at stake in a battle that doesn’t need to happen.”

  The guard’s glance skipped from Silas to Riesta and stared at the girl for a long second.

  “I didn’t spill the story,” she protested defensively. “Not all of it, exactly.”

  “You knew about the Faralag fleet too?” Silas asked Ruten in astonishment. “Or did you know about the Amenozume fleet?”

  “What Amenozume fleet?” puzzled wrinkles creased Ruten’s forehead.

  “Lumene is leading a fleet to attack Ivaric,” Riesta spoke up.

  “That’s insane! Who told you that?” the guard was agitated as he asked.

  “I heard it from a Speaker, who heard from the Amenozume Speaker,” Silas explained.

  “He was talking about a fleet invading Ivaric, and I just assumed he had found out about the Faralag fleet,” Riesta explained. “I’m sorry Ruten, I didn’t mean to give it away.”

  “I know you didn’t. You’ve always been pretty good about being discreet. And yet you somehow always seem to be so open and honest too. I think that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you,” Ruten spoke with a gentle smile.

  “You two are in love?” Silas felt another astonishing revelation strike a blow to his confidence that he knew and understood the world around him. At least when it came to the members of the caravan that he thought he had known, he wasn’t sure that he truly knew anything at all.

  “We were,” Riesta told him, putting her fingertips gently on Silas’s forearm, while smiling enigmatically at Ruten.

  “It just didn’t work out,” Ruten chimed in. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about. You’ve got to call that Amenozume fleet back,” he spoke insistently to Silas.

  “How? How am I going to do that? I don’t know where it is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have any reason to expect anyone there to listen to me,” he explained.

  Ruten rode along silently, one hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  “I need to go up and see Prima and report this,” he decided.

  “I’m going with you,” Riesta reported, and she rose to her feet, stepped across Silas, and flung a leg over the back of Ruten’s saddle. She settled in, making the guard adjust forward.

  “I’ll be back in a little while,” she shouted to Silas, and then Ruten’s horse carried her away, leaving Silas alone, confused, and unsettled.

  His wagon was moving once again, at least keeping pace with the rest of the caravan that was at a distance ahead of him, though not gaining any ground. Hron and his companion were contentedly pulling the wagon along, while Silas tried to decipher the reality behind all the incredible news he had just been told.

  “Jimes, this is Silas,” He turned and faced backwards. “This is Silas,” he paused, then grinned, “this is Silas, the Abomination, speaking to Jimes, in Avaleen. I received your message about the fleet from Amenozume.

  “Jimes, if you have any way, to convince that fleet to turn around, please do it,” Silas felt a note of pleading enter his voice. “I’m going to enter Ivaric city in just a few days, and I don’t want a lot of people being hurt unnecessarily. Thank you for anything you can do.

  “Tell Carlton I hope all is well for him in Avaleen,” Silas added, “and I hope all is well for you too. This is the Abomination,” he grinned at his own adoption of the nickname for himself, “ending this message to Jimes.”

  He had done something at least, he told himself. He felt a sense of helplessness and confusion brought on by the stunning revelations he had received in the past hour. Two fleets were on the move, Riesta had some unknown means of communications with Faralag, as did Ruten, and the two of them were former lovers! How much more did he not know, he wondered.

  Jimes was unlikely to have any success in passing a message to Lumene, Silas realized. The roundabout passage of a message from Silas to Jimes to Sloeleen was possible, but Sloeleen was likely to be at the palace on the island, while Lumene was aboard a ship at sea. Or if Sloeleen was at sea with Lumene, Silas had little faith in Jimes’s ability to successfully locate the course of the ship and transmit a message that would reach Sloeleen’s ears.

  He could try it himself. Silas was a better geographer than Jimes, or most of his contemporaries. He would be able to guess better at the course of the ship, and to send a message to Sloeleen, if she was aboard the ship.

  Or, he realized, he could simply address the message to Lumene herself, and bypass the possibility that Sloeleen might or might not be aboard. Speaking directly to Lumene would be emotionally challenging; he’d avoided taking that step for weeks, as he had slowly separated his heart from the emotional mess he’d fled from in the Amenozume palace. But lives were at stake, including the princess’s o
wn life if the invasion went wrong in any way.

  He paused and composed himself. He needed a steady voice, and he needed a factual, unemotional message to deliver. There was no sense in diluting the value and importance of his message by delivering it poorly, if he could correctly judge what direction across the ocean waters to deliver it at all. He looked up at the sun to judge its location, then twisted to face to the west-northwest, at an angle he hoped would strike the fleet, however far it might have sailed

  “This is Silas,” he paused for a moment, “Silas the Abomination,” he used the title again, not in jest this time, but to hopefully make Lumene think of him as a cold-blooded warrior, “Silas is sending this message to Princess Lumene, heir to the throne of Amenozume.

  “Lumene, if you are at sea, and you receive this message, I ask that you not send an invasion to Ivaric. Turn the fleet back and save the lives of your sailors and your army. I am on my own way to Ivaric for my battle, and I don’t want any innocent lives to be wasted,” he explained. “Save yourself and your followers, return to Amenozume, and be careful, please,” he spoke. “This is Silas the Abomination, ceasing his message to the Princess Lumene.”

  He let out a deep breath, then turned slightly, and repeated the message, sending it at a different angle in hopes of delivering it to Lumene in the event his first message had missed the location of the Amenozume fleet. He sent it a third time, then concluded he had done enough.

  His wagon was catching up to the rest of the caravan he realized; the wagons appeared closer, and there was a person standing at the side of the road up ahead. It was Minnie, he saw, watching him with a grave expression on her face as his wagon rolled up to her position. She hopped on board and slid across the bench to close the gap between the two of them.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

  “What? Yes, why?” Silas asked in confusion.

  Because of Riesta. You don’t have to be brave in front of me, Silas,” she counseled.

  “What are you talking about?” Silas felt a thorough sense of confusion.